As the sun sets, youths gather with flame torch and spray mouthful of kerosene on it directing the sky and the old Dhaka texture
Hundreds of kites are chasing birds above the age old houses.
Thousands of youngsters with their slick little hawks are trying to create a new canopy over old Dhaka.
There’s a vast sky above, bare rooftops within the tattered texture is more than enough.
The triumphant screams saying “Bagatta”, meaning I’ve cut it.
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