In '71, history etched in pain, A tale of discord, a loss to explain. From Jinnah's dream, a unified might, To fractures deep, in the darkest night. East and West, two wings once soared, United in faith, in dreams adored. Yet politics brewed an unsettling storm, Tearing apart what had been the norm. Bengal's ethos, its vibrant call, Clashed with power, leading to the fall. Cries for freedom echoed loud and clear, Amidst the chaos, hope turned to fear. Amidst the bayonets, a nation's cry, A struggle for rights reached the sky. Dhaka's streets bore witness, stained red, As a nation's unity hung by a thread. Through the pages of history's tome, The agony of '71 finds its home. More than a tale of a land torn apart, It's a reminder etched in every heart. Simple and sorrowful, this tale's refrain, Of a nation's loss, a unity's pain. In '71, history's sorrowful trace, A testament to unity's fragile grace.
"Exploring the maze of thoughts, seeking solace in untangling the mind."