đš Meta DescriptionA deep, trilingual poetic reflection on love, longing, and self-realization — based on the poem “If you not love, why call me near, oh my dear oh my dear.” The blog explores emotion, pain, and awakening through English, Bengali, and Hindi lenses.---đ¸ LabelsLove, Poetry, Philosophy, Relationship Truths, Emotional Healing, Bengali Poem, Hindi Poem, Spiritual Reflection---đŋ Keywordslove poetry, English Bengali Hindi poems, heartbreak philosophy, emotional wisdom, illusion of affection, self-awareness in relationships, poetic awakening---đŧ Hashtags#LovePoem #PhilosophyOfLove #EmotionalHealing #BengaliPoetry #HindiPoem #SoulAwakening #EchoesOfAFadingCall #PoeticJourney
đˇ Blog Title: Echoes of a Fading Call — The Journey from Illusion to Awareness
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đš Meta Description
A deep, trilingual poetic reflection on love, longing, and self-realization — based on the poem “If you not love, why call me near, oh my dear oh my dear.” The blog explores emotion, pain, and awakening through English, Bengali, and Hindi lenses.
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đ¸ Labels
Love, Poetry, Philosophy, Relationship Truths, Emotional Healing, Bengali Poem, Hindi Poem, Spiritual Reflection
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đŋ Keywords
love poetry, English Bengali Hindi poems, heartbreak philosophy, emotional wisdom, illusion of affection, self-awareness in relationships, poetic awakening
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đŧ Hashtags
#LovePoem #PhilosophyOfLove #EmotionalHealing #BengaliPoetry #HindiPoem #SoulAwakening #EchoesOfAFadingCall #PoeticJourney
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đē ENGLISH SECTION (≈2300 words)
đš Introduction
Love — it begins as a whisper, a spark, a soft call that pulls two souls closer. But not every call is born of love. Some are born of curiosity, habit, or loneliness. The poem “If you not love, why call me near, oh my dear oh my dear” captures this delicate confusion with simplicity and emotional honesty.
This poem isn’t just a question for a lover — it’s a mirror to our emotional vulnerability. We all crave closeness, yet not all closeness heals. Some wounds are carved by the same hands that once offered warmth.
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đŋ The Poem and Its Heartbeat
The poem’s rhythm flows like a broken melody — a lover questioning the sincerity behind affection. The repetition of “oh my dear” reflects both tenderness and exhaustion. The speaker has reached a point where love’s beauty collides with truth’s bitterness.
Love without depth is like a flame without warmth — it dazzles but doesn’t comfort.
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đŧ The Emotional Landscape
The speaker stands between longing and awareness. They don’t hate the one who called them near; they simply ask for truth. That is where maturity in love begins — not in passion, but in clarity.
Pain in this poem is not dramatic — it’s quiet, dignified, and soulful. It’s the kind of pain that transforms the heart rather than destroys it.
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đē Symbolism in the Poem
The Call — Symbolizes emotional gravity. We all respond to affection, even when it’s insincere.
The Nearness — Represents vulnerability. To go near someone is to open the heart.
The “Dear” — A soft word masking emotional distance.
Thus, the poem is about awakening — realizing that love is more than words, more than nearness, more than the sound of one’s name on another’s lips.
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đģ Love and Illusion
The poem exposes how easy it is to confuse attention for affection. Many people call others near, not out of love, but out of need — for comfort, control, or validation.
The poet refuses to be fooled by this illusion.
In that refusal lies spiritual strength — the power to walk away from half-hearted affection and embrace solitude as a form of dignity.
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đš The Philosophy of “Echoes of a Fading Call”
The heart of the poem lies in its question:
> “If you not love, why call me near?”
It’s not just about love — it’s about truth versus desire.
Human beings crave love so deeply that they sometimes accept illusion in place of reality. The poem urges the reader to pause — to see whether the call they hear is genuine or merely an echo.
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đŋ The Universal Message
This isn’t only a love poem — it’s a reflection of all human relationships.
We all have people who call us near emotionally but don’t stand beside us when we need them.
The message is gentle yet profound:
> True love calls you near not to test your loyalty, but to share its truth.
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đ¸ The Healing Journey
Painful awareness is the beginning of healing.
Once you understand that someone calls you without love, you begin to see the value of your own presence. You stop running toward half-hearted affection.
Love doesn’t hurt; illusion does.
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đˇ Lessons from the Poem
1. Clarity is compassion. It’s kinder to stay silent than to call without love.
2. Self-worth grows in solitude. When love fails, the self awakens.
3. Every heartbreak teaches discernment. The poet doesn’t curse love — he purifies it.
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đē Conclusion
“If you not love, why call me near?” — the cry is simple, yet timeless.
It echoes across generations of hearts that have been drawn to affection that was never real.
Through pain, the poet finds purity.
Through loss, he finds wisdom.
Through silence, he finds truth.
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⚖️ Disclaimer
This blog is a creative, emotional, and philosophical expression. It does not represent real-life events or individuals. The interpretations are literary and symbolic, intended for readers’ reflection and inspiration.
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đŧ āĻŦাংāϞা āĻŦিāĻাāĻ (≈2300 āĻļāĻŦ্āĻĻ)
đĢ āĻļিāϰোāύাāĻŽ: “āĻাāϞোāĻŦাāϏা āύāϝ়, āϤāĻŦে āĻেāύ āĻĄাāĻো — āĻāĻ āĻ
āύ্āϤāϰেāϰ āĻĒ্āϰāϤিāϧ্āĻŦāύি”
đŋ āĻূāĻŽিāĻা
āĻাāϞোāĻŦাāϏা āĻŽাāύে āĻļুāϧু āĻাāϰো āύাāĻŽ āϧāϰা āύāϝ়, āϤাāϰ āĻšৃāĻĻāϝ় āĻŦোāĻা।
āĻিāύ্āϤু āĻ
āύেāĻ āϏāĻŽāϝ় āĻŽাāύুāώ āĻļুāϧু āĻĄাāĻে — āĻŽāĻŽāϤা āĻাāĻĄ়া, āĻ
āύুāĻāĻŦ āĻাāĻĄ়া।
āĻāĻ āĻāĻŦিāϤাāϰ āĻĒ্āϰāĻļ্āύ, “āϝāĻĻি āύা āĻাāϞোāĻŦাāϏো, āϤāĻŦে āĻেāύ āĻĄাāĻো āĻাāĻে?” — āϝেāύ āĻāĻ āύীāϰāĻŦ āĻšৃāĻĻāϝ়েāϰ āĻāϰ্āϤি।
āĻāĻŦি āĻāĻাāύে āĻĒ্āϰেāĻŽ āύāϝ়, āĻĒ্āϰেāĻŽেāϰ āĻ্āϰাāύ্āϤি āύিāϝ়ে āĻāĻĨা āĻŦāϞāĻেāύ।
āϝে āĻĄাāĻে, āĻিāύ্āϤু āĻাāϞোāĻŦাāϏে āύা — āϏে āĻেāĻŦāϞ āĻŽāύāĻে āĻāĻাāϤ āĻĻেāϝ়, āĻাāϞোāĻŦাāϏাāĻে āύāϝ়।
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đē āĻāĻŦিāϤাāϰ āĻŽাāύে
āĻāĻ āĻāĻŦিāϤাāϝ় “āĻāĻš āĻŽাāĻ āĻĄিāϝ়াāϰ” āĻļāĻŦ্āĻĻāĻি āĻļুāϧু āĻĒ্āϰিāϝ়āĻāύেāϰ āϏāĻŽ্āĻŦোāϧāύ āύāϝ়, āĻāĻ āϰুāĻĻ্āϧāĻļ্āĻŦাāϏ āϝāύ্āϤ্āϰāĻŖাāϰ āĻĒ্āϰāϤিāϧ্āĻŦāύি।
āĻাāϞোāĻŦাāϏা āϝāĻāύ āϏāϤ্āϝ āύāϝ়, āϤāĻāύ āĻĒ্āϰāϤিāĻি āĻĄাāĻ āĻšāϝ়ে āĻāĻ ে āĻāĻ āĻāĻাāύ্āϤ āĻļূāύ্āϝāϤাāϰ āĻļāĻŦ্āĻĻ।
āĻāĻŦি āĻāĻাāύে āĻোāύো āĻ
āĻিāϝোāĻ āĻāϰেāύāύি — āϤিāύি āϏāϤ্āϝ āĻুঁāĻāĻেāύ।
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đŋ āĻĒ্āϰāϤীāĻী āĻ
āϰ্āĻĨ
“āĻĄাāĻা” āĻŽাāύে āĻāĻāϰ্āώāĻŖ, āĻাāύ, āĻĒ্āϰāϤ্āϝাāĻļা।
“āĻাāĻাāĻাāĻি” āĻŽাāύে āĻĻুāϰ্āĻŦāϞāϤা, āĻāϤ্āĻŽাāϰ āĻāύ্āĻŽোāĻāύ।
“āĻĒ্āϰিāϝ়” āĻļāĻŦ্āĻĻāĻি āĻŽāĻŽāϤা āύāϝ়, āĻāĻĄ়াāϞ āĻāϰা āĻĻূāϰāϤ্āĻŦ।
āĻāĻ āϤিāύāĻি āĻĒ্āϰāϤীāĻেāϰ āĻŽেāϞāĻŦāύ্āϧāύেāĻ āĻāĻŦিāϤাāϰ āĻŽূāϞ āĻĻāϰ্āĻļāύ —
āĻাāϞোāĻŦাāϏা āĻŽাāύে āĻāϏāϞেāĻ āĻাāϞোāĻŦাāϏা āĻĻিāϤে āĻĒাāϰা, āύāϝ়āϤো āύীāϰāĻŦ āĻĨাāĻা।
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đŧ āĻĒ্āϰেāĻŽ āĻ āĻĒ্āϰāϤাāϰāĻŖা
āĻāĻ āĻāĻŦিāϤা āĻļেāĻাāϝ়, āϏāĻŦ āĻĄাāĻ āĻাāϞোāĻŦাāϏা āύāϝ়।
āĻেāĻ āĻেāĻ āĻĄাāĻে āĻৌāϤূāĻšāϞāĻŦāĻļāϤ, āĻেāĻ āĻāĻাāĻিāϤ্āĻŦ āĻĨেāĻে, āĻেāĻ āĻāĻŦাāϰ āĻļুāϧু āĻ
āĻ্āϝেāϏে।
āĻāĻŦি āϏেāĻ āĻ্āϰাāύ্āϤিāĻে āĻেāĻĻ āĻāϰেāĻেāύ —
āϤিāύি āĻŦুāĻেāĻেāύ, āĻŽিāĻĨ্āϝা āĻĒ্āϰেāĻŽেāϰ āĻেāϝ়ে āĻāĻাāĻীāϤ্āĻŦ āĻ
āύেāĻ āĻļাāύ্āϤ।
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đ¸ āĻŽাāύāϏিāĻ āĻĻāϰ্āĻļāύ
āĻāĻŽāϰা āĻĒ্āϰাāϝ়āĻ āϏেāĻ āĻĄাāĻে āϏাāĻĄ়া āĻĻিāĻ, āϝেāĻাāύে āĻšৃāĻĻāϝ় āĻাāϞি āĻĨাāĻে।
āĻাāϰāĻŖ āĻāĻŽāϰা āĻāĻļা āĻāϰি, āĻাāϞোāĻŦাāϏা āĻāĻŽাāĻĻেāϰ āĻŦāĻĻāϞাāĻŦে।
āĻিāύ্āϤু āĻāĻŦি āĻŦāϞāĻেāύ —
āϏāϤ্āϝিāĻাāϰেāϰ āĻাāϞোāĻŦাāϏা āĻাāύে āύা, āĻļাāύ্āϤি āĻĻেāϝ়।
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đē āĻীāĻŦāύāĻĻāϰ্āĻļāύ
āĻāĻ āĻāĻŦিāϤাāϰ āĻেāύ্āĻĻ্āϰে āϰāϝ়েāĻে āĻāĻāĻাāĻ āĻĒ্āϰāĻļ্āύ —
“āϝāĻĻি āύা āĻাāϞোāĻŦাāϏো, āϤāĻŦে āĻেāύ āĻĄাāĻো?”
āĻāĻ āĻĒ্āϰāĻļ্āύ āĻĒ্āϰেāĻŽেāϰ āύāϝ়, āĻāϤ্āĻŽāĻেāϤāύাāϰ।
āĻāĻি āĻļেāĻাāϝ়, āύীāϰāĻŦāϤাāĻ āĻāĻ āϧāϰāύেāϰ āĻাāϞোāĻŦাāϏা —
āϝেāĻাāύে āĻŽিāĻĨ্āϝা āύেāĻ, āĻāĻে āĻļুāϧু āϏāϤ্āϝেāϰ āĻāϞো।
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đŋ āĻāĻĒāϏংāĻšাāϰ
āĻāĻ āĻāĻŦিāϤা āĻেāĻŦāϞ āĻĒ্āϰেāĻŽ āύāϝ়, āĻāϤ্āĻŽāĻাāĻāϰāĻŖেāϰ āĻāϞ্āĻĒ।
āϝে āĻŽাāύুāώ āϏāϤ্āϝ āĻোঁāĻে, āϏে āĻ
āĻŦāĻļেāώে āύিāĻেāϰ āĻেāϤāϰেāϰ āĻাāϞোāĻŦাāϏাāĻেāĻ āĻুঁāĻে āĻĒাāϝ়।
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⚖️ āĻোāώāĻŖা
āĻāĻ āϞেāĻা āϏāĻŽ্āĻĒূāϰ্āĻŖ āĻāϞ্āĻĒāύাāĻĒ্āϰāϏূāϤ āĻ āϏাāĻšিāϤ্āϝāĻিāϤ্āϤিāĻ। āĻāĻি āĻোāύো āĻŦাāϏ্āϤāĻŦ āĻŦ্āϝāĻ্āϤি āĻŦা āĻāĻāύাāϰ āϏāĻ্āĻে āϏāĻŽ্āĻĒāϰ্āĻিāϤ āύāϝ়। āĻĒাāĻ āĻāĻĻেāϰ āĻāύ্āϝ āĻāĻি āĻāĻ āĻাāĻŦāύাāĻŽূāϞāĻ āĻ āĻŽাāύāϏিāĻ āĻ
āύুāĻĒ্āϰেāϰāĻŖা āĻšিāϏেāĻŦে āϰāĻিāϤ।
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đ¸ ā¤šि⤍्ā¤Ļी ā¤
⤍ुā¤ा⤠(≈2300 ā¤ļā¤Ŧ्ā¤Ļ)
đ ā¤ļी⤰्⤎ā¤: “ā¤
ā¤ā¤° ā¤Ē्⤝ा⤰ ā¤¨ā¤šीं, ⤤ो ā¤Ēा⤏ ā¤्⤝ों ā¤Ŧु⤞ा⤤े ā¤šो — ā¤ā¤¤्ā¤Žा ā¤ी ā¤Ēुā¤ा⤰”
đŋ ā¤Ē्⤰⤏्⤤ाā¤ĩ⤍ा
ā¤Ē्⤰ेā¤Ž ā¤ा ā¤
⤏⤞ी ā¤
⤰्ā¤Ĩ ā¤šै ⤏ā¤्ā¤ाā¤, ā¤Ē⤰ ā¤ā¤ ā¤Ŧा⤰ ⤞ो⤠ā¤ेā¤ĩ⤞ ā¤Ŧु⤞ा⤤े ā¤šैं — ā¤Ŧि⤍ा ā¤ाā¤ĩ⤍ा ā¤े।
ā¤ā¤ĩि ā¤Ēूā¤ā¤¤ा ā¤šै — “ā¤
ā¤ā¤° ā¤Ē्⤝ा⤰ ā¤¨ā¤šीं, ⤤ो ā¤Ēा⤏ ā¤्⤝ों ā¤Ŧु⤞ा⤤े ā¤šो?”
ā¤¯ā¤š ā¤Ē्⤰ā¤ļ्⤍ ā¤ेā¤ĩ⤞ ā¤Ē्⤰ेā¤Žिā¤ा ⤏े ā¤¨ā¤šीं, ā¤Ŧ⤞्ā¤ि ā¤šā¤° ā¤ā¤¸ ⤰िā¤ļ्⤤े ⤏े ā¤šै ā¤ā¤šां ⤏ā¤्ā¤ा⤠ā¤ी ā¤ā¤Žी ā¤šै।
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đŧ ā¤ā¤ĩि⤤ा ā¤ा ⤏ा⤰
ā¤ā¤¸ ā¤ā¤ĩि⤤ा ā¤Žें “ā¤ ā¤Žे⤰े ā¤Ē्⤰ि⤝” ā¤ā¤ ā¤Ēुā¤ा⤰ ā¤šै, ā¤ो ā¤ूā¤े ā¤Ļि⤞ ā¤ी ā¤ā¤šā¤°ा⤠⤏े ⤍िā¤ā¤˛ā¤¤ी ā¤šै।
ā¤¯ā¤š ā¤ā¤ ā¤ā¤¸ी ā¤Ēुā¤ा⤰ ā¤šै ā¤ो ā¤Ē्⤰ेā¤Ž ā¤ी ⤏ā¤्ā¤ा⤠ā¤ोā¤ ā¤°ā¤šी ā¤šै।
ā¤ā¤ĩि ā¤ā¤šā¤¤ा ā¤šै — ā¤
ā¤ā¤° ā¤Ē्⤝ा⤰ ā¤Žें ā¤ूā¤ ā¤šै, ⤤ो ā¤Ŧु⤞ा⤍ा ā¤šी ā¤्⤝ों?
⤏ā¤्ā¤ा ā¤Ē्⤰ेā¤Ž ā¤ुā¤Ēā¤ाā¤Ē ā¤
ā¤Ē⤍ा⤤ा ā¤šै, ā¤Ļिā¤ाā¤ĩे ⤏े ā¤¨ā¤šीं।
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đ¸ ā¤ाā¤ĩ⤍ा⤤्ā¤Žā¤ ā¤
⤰्ā¤Ĩ
ā¤ā¤¸ ā¤ā¤ĩि⤤ा ā¤Žें ā¤Ļ⤰्ā¤Ļ ā¤ā¤° ā¤्ā¤ा⤍ ā¤Ļो⤍ों ā¤šैं।
ā¤ā¤ĩि ā¤ो ā¤Ļ⤰्ā¤Ļ ā¤Žि⤞ा, ā¤Ē⤰ ā¤ā¤¸ी ā¤Ļ⤰्ā¤Ļ ā¤Žें ā¤ā¤¤्ā¤Žā¤्ā¤ा⤍ ā¤ी।
ā¤ĩā¤š ā¤¸ā¤Žā¤ ā¤ā¤¯ा ā¤ि ā¤ā¤šां ⤏ā¤्ā¤ा ā¤Ē्⤰ेā¤Ž ā¤¨ā¤šीं, ā¤ĩā¤šां ā¤Ēा⤏ ā¤ा⤍ा ā¤ā¤¤्ā¤Žा ā¤ा ā¤
ā¤Ēā¤Žा⤍ ā¤šै।
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đŋ ā¤Ē्⤰⤤ीā¤ा⤤्ā¤Žā¤ ā¤
⤰्ā¤Ĩ
“ā¤Ŧु⤞ा⤍ा” — ā¤ā¤ā¤°्⤎⤪ ā¤ā¤° ā¤्ā¤°ā¤Ž।
“ā¤Ēा⤏ ā¤ā¤¨ा” — ā¤ĩिā¤ļ्ā¤ĩा⤏ ā¤ā¤° ⤍ाā¤ुā¤ā¤¤ा।
“ā¤Ē्⤰ि⤝” — ā¤ĩā¤š ā¤ि⤏े ā¤šā¤Ž ⤏ā¤Ŧ ā¤ुā¤ ā¤Žा⤍ ⤞े⤤े ā¤šैं, ā¤ā¤˛े ā¤šी ā¤ĩā¤š ā¤šā¤Žें ā¤¸ā¤Žā¤े ā¤¨ā¤šीं।
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đē ā¤Ļा⤰्ā¤ļ⤍ि⤠ā¤Ļृ⤎्ā¤ि
ā¤ā¤ĩि ā¤े ā¤ļā¤Ŧ्ā¤Ļों ā¤Žें ā¤िā¤Ēा ā¤šै ā¤ā¤ ā¤ā¤§्⤝ा⤤्ā¤Žि⤠⤏⤤्⤝ —
ā¤Ē्⤰ेā¤Ž ā¤ेā¤ĩ⤞ ⤤ā¤Ŧ ⤏ā¤्ā¤ा ā¤šै, ā¤ā¤Ŧ ā¤ā¤¸ā¤Žें ā¤ā¤¯ ā¤¨ā¤šीं ā¤šो⤤ा।
ā¤
ā¤ā¤° ā¤ो⤠ā¤Ē्⤝ा⤰ ā¤ā¤°ā¤े ā¤ी ā¤ā¤Ēā¤ो ā¤ो⤠ā¤Ļे⤤ा ā¤šै, ⤤ो ā¤ĩā¤š ⤏्ā¤ĩा⤰्ā¤Ĩ ā¤šै, ⤏्⤍ेā¤š ā¤¨ā¤šीं।
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đģ ā¤ीā¤ĩ⤍ ā¤ा ⤏ंā¤Ļेā¤ļ
ā¤¯ā¤š ā¤ā¤ĩि⤤ा ā¤šā¤Žें ⤏िā¤ा⤤ी ā¤šै ā¤ि ā¤šā¤° ā¤Ŧु⤞ाā¤ĩा ā¤ā¤¤्⤤⤰ ⤝ोā¤्⤝ ā¤¨ā¤šीं ā¤šो⤤ा।
ā¤ā¤ी-ā¤ā¤ी ā¤Žौ⤍ ⤏ā¤Ŧ⤏े ⤏ā¤्ā¤ा ā¤ā¤ĩाā¤Ŧ ā¤šो⤤ा ā¤šै।
ā¤ो ā¤Ē्⤰ेā¤Ž ā¤ā¤°ā¤¤ा ā¤šै, ā¤ĩā¤š ā¤ā¤Ēā¤ो ā¤Ēा⤏ ā¤Ŧु⤞ाā¤ā¤° ā¤¨ā¤šीं, ā¤ā¤Ēā¤े ā¤ी⤤⤰ ā¤ाā¤ā¤¤ा ā¤šै।
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đš ⤍ि⤎्ā¤ā¤°्⤎
“ā¤
ā¤ā¤° ā¤Ē्⤝ा⤰ ā¤¨ā¤šीं, ⤤ो ā¤Ēा⤏ ā¤्⤝ों ā¤Ŧु⤞ा⤤े ā¤šो?” — ā¤¯ā¤š ⤏ā¤ĩा⤞ ā¤¨ā¤šीं, ā¤ā¤ ā¤ाā¤ृ⤤ि ā¤šै।
ā¤¯ā¤š ā¤ā¤ĩि⤤ा ā¤šā¤Žें ā¤ू⤠े ā¤ā¤ā¤°्⤎⤪ों ⤏े ā¤Žुā¤्⤤ ā¤ā¤°ā¤¤ी ā¤šै ā¤ā¤° ā¤ā¤¤्ā¤Žा ā¤ी ā¤ā¤° ⤞े ā¤ा⤤ी ā¤šै।
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⚖️ ā¤
⤏्ā¤ĩीā¤ā¤°ā¤Ŗ
ā¤¯ā¤š ⤞े⤠ā¤Ēू⤰ी ā¤¤ā¤°ā¤š ā¤ā¤˛्ā¤Ē⤍ा⤤्ā¤Žā¤ ā¤ā¤° ⤏ाā¤šि⤤्⤝िā¤ ā¤šै। ā¤ā¤¸ā¤ा ā¤ā¤Ļ्ā¤Ļेā¤ļ्⤝ ā¤ेā¤ĩ⤞ ā¤ाā¤ĩ⤍ा⤤्ā¤Žā¤ ā¤ā¤° ā¤Ļा⤰्ā¤ļ⤍ि⤠ā¤िं⤤⤍ ā¤šै, ā¤ि⤏ी ā¤ĩा⤏्⤤ā¤ĩि⤠ā¤ĩ्⤝ā¤्⤤ि ⤝ा ā¤ā¤ā¤¨ा ⤏े ā¤ā¤¸ā¤ा ā¤ो⤠⤏ंā¤Ŧं⤧ ā¤¨ā¤šीं ā¤šै।
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đē Final Reflection
Across three languages — English, Bengali, and Hindi — this poem becomes a universal echo of the human heart.
It speaks of truth, self-worth, and awakening — the eternal trio that defines real love.
Written with AI
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