मुझपर लोन हैं ज़िन्दगी का,
EMI ख्वाहिशों की मीलों की कतार में है
हर नए रिश्ते, नए त्यौहार से
मेरी जेबों में छाले पड़ते हैं
इंसान को अच्छा नहीं महँगा लगना चाहिए
समझ आ गया है अब
बालों में चांदी है सफ़ेद
रातों से सोना गायब है
क़र्ज़ जीने का चुकाता हूँ ,
मुझपर लोन है ज़िन्दगी का
I walk by the streets
I sing an old song
there are some merchants
who hawk their stories
some old, some freshly baked
I fall for this one
the one with mountains and rivers
there’s freshly stoked tea somewhere
the lump of ginger, I feel it in my throat
There’s a tea stall on the other side
the one where people brew their dreams
An old man pours a story
the chai wallah flavors it
I sip a few words,
I try to gulp some down
My story seems incomplete
I add some more lies, sugar coated
they blend well, the stories
but some words fall down
unknowingly, or knowingly perhaps
in my cup of tea
I call for another one
some more storms steamed in
my half-empty cup
my half-filled stories
I crush, and swing them around
As I start again,
I walk by the streets
I sing an old song.