Kabootar/ Pigeon
From my balcony,
About ten feet away,
The large roof of the neighboring stride,
Where they used to soar.
Every evening, pigeons,
Colorful pigeons,
A flock of pigeons,
Flying from this direction.
Then another flock of pigeons,
Flying a kilometer away,
In the sky, both flocks,
Blend and merge.
And then begins,
The game of calling back those pigeons,
Loud voices calling out,
Aaoo... Aaoo... Aaoo.
Applauses sound,
And just two minutes later,
The flock of pigeons,
Respond to their owners' voices.
In the direction of their owners' voices,
They return,
As soon as they land on the roof,
Their count begins.
The owner, in a single glance,
Identifies that pigeon,
Belonging to the other flock,
And by mistake,
If it had come with this flock,
Then the real owner
Of the pigeon,
Had to pay a hefty sum,
As today, if any leader changes parties,
A hefty price has to be paid.
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