I was like a fallen autumn leaf,
Withering beneath the banyan tree's boughs,
I know you might have forgotten.
The first day of Allahabad,
Now known as Prayagraj,
It marked my first hunger strike,
Within the university campus,
And my trembling hands recited the first poem.
The memories flooded back yesterday,
Nirala Ji's home's doorway,
And that stone-breaking in Daraganj,
Mahadevi Ji's playful squirrel,
You must have...
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