The blackness of the black deity.

- Today Gaikal-Bhagirath Brahmbhatt

From the end of the second decade of the twenty-first century to the first two years of the third decade, the whole of mankind has been breathing under the guise of death! Everyone is dying in the palm of their hand! Life struggles to survive. No one has ever seen death so closely, it has become as frightening as a snakebite. It has caused laziness in all the activities of human life. Vidya has changed its form from the center of learner and teacher. Jobs have become dangerous. A new way of working from home is taking shape. In the name of 'online', educational institutions and offices have transformed their working style. Trade balances have narrowed. Older people look at the wonders of the last chapter of life with tears in their eyes. Experts in politics kill the souvenirs of selfishness in such a difficult time. The word death is a mustache to show its existence. Corona's army has come to cut the ants on the young and old trembling. Childhood has been taken away from children, youthful vigor has been taken away from youth. - The face of words like sports, fun, laughter, merriment, fun has become blurred. At home, the monster is increasing its ability to enter the house by crossing the boundaries of the house - Lakshmanrekha - is Yamaraja himself out to share the blackness of death or not? The numbers of bodies wrapped in white sheets are being converted into streams.

A sacrament of death. One of its manners, one of its mobho-choko, ghee lamp, puja-archana, shrifal ... nanami ... a malajani, the rite of passage has been severed. Mokhta and Munzara have taken the place of Rokkal. Who is smearing the face of mankind with numbness? Where is the black rain coming from? Human life has become hakabaka in the fear of when death will enter from the hole in the green garden of life. The human eyes have become blind by reading the blackouts.

Although the human face is covered with buccaneers, the corona is being able to enter the human body by changing its elusive form. The human being is scared to see its cruelty but is still struggling. The speed of breathing has slowed down and the corona's speed is communicating over the entire creation. The one who snatched oxygen from mankind while saving oxygen is enriching the treasure of death in the mahalaya called Korona Maran. A demon named Coro wanders from house to house, leaving his mark on the selected house, then leaves with the mark of the tapa. Arav screams. The pace of life has also slowed down. The robber named Korona, who is taking his relatives to the bath and running away, does not stop with a tearful cry. The area of ​​melancholy makes the surgeon melancholy. Who have lost loved ones. Tears well up in the eyes of such detached human beings, they too are afraid to go out. or what ? What happens to the road when you see multiple green trees being cut down on the road? Something similar can be seen in the eyes of relatives without relatives. There is a constant suspicion that this ploy is designed to transform a healthy person into a patient in an atmosphere of fear. Life is not the truth - it is no longer necessary to make it clear that death is the truth.

The virus has changed its form and is now known as Omicron. The warriors have also retreated to fight against the Corona. Physicians' acumen is being tested. Ayurvedacharyas are also confused. Even degrees cannot find a solution. Bhuva, Bawa, astrologers also roll their eyes. The government reassures mankind by creating statistics. The government has made a concerted effort to find a shield called Rasi. Yet the sword that pierces the shield is being wielded - what will happen?

Life means rhythm and death means annihilation. Merger. The same circles are formed. The magician who transforms the doctor into a patient does not appear to be a ghost. But the music of death is flowing from the strings of the universe extending to the real infinite area. Although the echo of the death song is heard in the sky-dome, there is silence on earth. Have fallen into the hands of destiny. Masculinity is declining. A helpless situation has been created. Death, like the rushing ocean of Sarita, is transforming KD into a highway with corpses lined up. What will be the punishment for this crime? What will be the fruit of sin? No one can explain that, and no one can stop Yamaraja from running fast with his eyes closed and his ears puffing.

O Kaaldev, who erases the boundaries of life and death, did you create such a horrible drama only for dissolution, is there any auspicious sign behind it?