The goats resist but surrender in a few bleats.
A buffalo breathes his end in deep phlegmatic bellows. This lasts a while.
The camel’s scarlet blood squirts for long, in long forceful gushes- revelries drowning his desperate notes.
Durga idols crafted over diligent weeks get their necks broken by cranes.
A face-down topple of the Mother in black filth uplifts everyone.
The devotees complain of itching from the accidental (dreaded) splash of Her final abode.
How difficult is it to understand the truth behind rituals?
Or must we ever rely on ourselves to destroy all noble conceptions?