It never bored them to hear words$$$ words; they breathed them with the cool night air$$$ never stopping to analyse; the name of the poet$$$ Hafiz$$$ Hali$$$ Iqbal$$$ was sufficient guarantee. India—a hundred Indias—whispered outside beneath the indifferent moon$$$ but for the time India seemed one and their own$$$ and they regained their departed greatness by hearing its departure lamented$$$ they felt young again because reminded that youth must fly.