kani aankho ki izzat aur
tirachhi najar badnam hai
in lakho aankho walo me
ek mithi najar badnam hai badnam hai
in lakho aankho walo me
ek mithi najar badnam hai badnam hai
are wah re budhe are wah re budhe
wah wah re budhe
ban than ke rup kumar ke
kaise nikle bajar me ho o bajar me
in mote mote setho me
bas patali kamar badnam hai badnam hai
are wah re budhe are wah re budhe
aaye haye re budhe

jab kaliya phul banti hai
jab kaliya phul banti hai
kahte hai bahare aa gyi haye aa gyi
lekin hum jaisi hasino ki
patjhad si umar badnam hai badnam hai
are wah re budhe are wah re budhe
wah wah re budhe
jo gali gali dil deta hai
usko kahte hai aashna ho aashna
jo ek jagah dil deta hai
wo duniya bhar me badnam hai badnam hai
are wah re budhe are wah re budhe
aaye haye re budhe

bolo dekhe hum kidhar kidhar
bolo dekhe hum kidhar kidhar
kis kis ka kahna man le haye man le
wo ishk udhar badnam hai
ye hushn idhar badnam hai badnam hai
in lakho aankho walo me
ek mithi najar badnam hai badnam hai

The blind eye honored, revered,
While the sidelong glance is cursed and jeered.
Amongst these million gazes bold,
A tender look, a story told, is shamed, controlled.
Yes, shamed, controlled.
Oh, the aged, the wise, the old!
How they preen, a youthful guise,
To walk the marketplace, with longing in their eyes.
Amongst the wealthy, stout and grand,
A slender waist is misunderstood, across the land.
Yes, misunderstood.
Oh, the aged, the wise, the old!
Ah, the aged, the old!

When buds unfurl to greet the sun,
They sing of spring, the victory won.
But for those beauties, like our own,
The autumn years, a life withdrawn, are sown, are sown.
Oh, the aged, the wise, the old!
The old!
He who gives his heart to every street,
Is known as lover, bittersweet.
But he who loves in one place, true,
Is scorned by all, in what he must pursue.
Yes, pursue.
Oh, the aged, the wise, the old!
Ah, the aged, the old!

Tell me, where must we now look?
Tell me, where must we now look?
Whose words, whose dictates, shall we brook?
For love, they say, brings shame and blight,
And beauty here is held in slight.
Amongst these million gazes bold,
A tender look, a story told, is shamed, controlled.