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Samarjeet Tripathi Poem
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 seen that tree.
My journey, while growing up,
So much joy and colors of life,
The university still smiles at me,
As if I were its little child,
Holding a pen and paper,
Reciting "The battle is still on" with great enthusiasm,
And spending nights in the library, conversing with books.
The memory of the payment my friend received,
Margaret from the English department,
And the Miss Poetess from the Hindi department,
That endearing "A childhood lost in the village"
With my rebellious poem,
The bitter truths of society and the nation.
Remembering the ancient history department,
My name written in Harappan script,
Nirala Sabha's stage, where I delivered a speech,
And a lecture offered as a reward and fulfillment,
When I fell asleep.
So much to remember,
Between the sweet union of character and sacrifice,
Even with unfulfilled needs,
Because hope and faith,
For nation-building and social change,
Reminds us of the essence of "The battle is still on,"
And the last effort to keep fighting.
Living a vibrant life,
With the thoughts of Karl Marx and Kant,
I have spent a fulfilling life,
Breaking stones like Nirala did,
Engaging in Premchand's love labor,
And being a part of "The battle is still on,"
Reminding me of days gone by.
Hegel and Schopenhauer's philosophies,
Survived amidst the contradictions,
Satre's understanding I found,
Leibniz and Mill were sufficient,
To comprehend the usefulness and materialism of philosophy,
Today, I have forgotten all the philosophies,
Rejecting Vedic doctrines,
For I had already denied materialism.
Verses from “Samar Shesh hai”
Copyright © Samarjeet Tripathi | Year Posted 2023
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Samarjeet Tripathi Poem
Spiders kept weaving their webs,
Dust knocking on closed windows,
Within closed books and cupboards,
Coolness settled in.
Among the stacks of dozens of books,
Mosquitoes turned like ascetics,
Taking residence in the classroom's walls,
As the clock on the wall continued ticking.
At last, I embraced transformation,
A revolution was imperative,
For women's existence,
In the evolving fabric of society,
And for the ultimate triumph -
Where on the streets,
The rights of the people
Won't be trampled,
The dignity of women
Won't be bartered,
No one will inquire
About anyone's caste or creed,
All will be equal and deserving,
Dust will be swept off the books
Then new volumes will be scripted,
Where women
Will chart the course of new epochs and reforms.
Copyright © Samarjeet Tripathi | Year Posted 2023
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