Down the memory lane, across the nawab streets-
Running out of breath to catch the flying sheets;
Sheets of paper bearing the message of freedom-
Like the commitments of indulgence and innocent fathom;
Almost bare-footed and injured by the sudden pavements-
Sometimes with the scratches while the edge of latchments;
Down the memory lane, along the nawab streets.
Down the memory lane, away the nawab streets-
There we crashed and she mended her traditional fleets;
It was that wonderful kite that got entwined in her locks-
The more the string was pulled, the more it tied in knots;
Like she wanted to protest but could not-
And there was no more longing for the reins well fought;
Down the memory lane, behind the nawab streets.