Marathi essay on old bull’s mind | Mhatarya Bailache Manogat Essay In Marathi

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Marathi essay on old bull’s mind | Mhatarya Bailache Manogat Essay In Marathi

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Marathi essay on old bull’s mind | Mhatarya Bailache Manogat Essay In Marathi


Marathi essay on old bull’s mind | Mhatarya Bailache Manogat Essay In Marathi

Hello friends, today we are thinking of the old bull We will look at Marathi essays. Hello my human friends! Don’t recognize me? I am a true friend of farmers. Hey, I really care about their lives. I do a lot of farming. Do you recognize it now? Yes

That’s right. I am that bull. Today I am going to present my case to you. Please do not put your hands over your ears. Let my plea reach your inner heart.

From the Sanskrit word ‘Baliward’ The word bull has become. My second name is Taurus. I am named Taurus because I am a symbol of strength, power, strength and might. The second of the twelve constellations is the constellation with my name on it. I have many qualities; So I should not be killed, says Mahabharata, Atharva Veda.

Awadhya is that which should not be killedI mean bull. I also got the honor of being Shiva’s vehicle. Her name is ‘Nandi!’ Hey, I have a temple at Basavangudi in Mysore. The fair is held there every year. The people there call me ‘Basav’.

I was also important in Indus culture. There were four oxen in a herd of ten cows. I am a very honest and hardworking animal working in the rainy season. My boss wanted me to rest.

His love for me. He felt grateful for me; So I was worshiped every bull day. It was also called ‘Bendur’.

None from me to this day The work was not being done. I used to take a bath with oil. My horns were painted gold. It was covered with a brass cap. I used to have beautiful, colorful, patterned bashing built on me. I used to wear Nakshi Zul on my back.

He worshiped me and axed me To go. I was fed Puranpoli. Then my procession would be removed. Once upon a time, I came first in a bull race. At that time, my master’s chest was full of pride.

He began to say proudly, “Look at how handsome and powerful my creation is.” I still remember that day. But now …..

I am old now. All my pride is gone. I don’t have the same work as before. Just tying it to a tree has blocked all directions for me. My freedom is at stake. The owner doesn’t even look at me anymore.

Of love flowing from my body Hands, that touch is now familiar to me. Now just ignore the rest. Sometimes you don’t even get enough to eat. Basically my language was mute; But still she understood my boss. But now no matter how much Humberda bursts, no one notices.

The bullock cart comes and goes every year. Mine Appreciation is over. I have only memories of the past. Those memories don’t bother me. Those memories hurt me. Saying ‘Gone are the days gone’ has come before me. Proof of how mean man is.

“He who bows, rises, he who turns his back, falls.”

Now the journey of my life Continuing to decline. My strength is gone, my use is gone; And as the use ran out, so did my neck. Now I am counting every breath. A person gets a pension in old age after working.

Take care of their children though Do. But what about us? Not work; What is aging by working hard? Will our dumb language reach you? Will anyone listen to our pain? If you listen to it, will you read it?

Of all these hopes, disappointments, questions When will the life found in the vortex move? Hey Vidhatya! Why old age? At least for parasitic, dumb animals like us? Friends, you can also comment on how you felt about this essay. Thanks