Kalabhavan mani was a man of art
He had many honours and awards in his cart
He never used pen and pencil
Through his actions and voice he made his people humble

He grew from a poor family
Having no food when hungry
Whenever he went onto the stage with pride
Some big noise came from the crowd

When he found his people suffer
His heart would become smoother
No one couldn't accept his demise with crave
Grief is the price we pay for love..

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