aapas ke jhagdo ne dekho bharat
ko barbad kiya jinka tha mohtaj jamana
aaj unhe mohtaj kiya aapas me ham rahe jhagadte
gairo ne aa raaz kiya jinka tha mohtaj jamana
aaj unhe mohtaj kiya

kabhi mere is bharat me bhi
dudh ki nadiya behti thi ji
dhan dhan ke the kothar bhare
anand me duniya rehti thi
tha kuber ka bandar yaha hiro ki hoti peshi thi
mitti ka sona banta tha anmol yaha ki reeti thi
aaj usi gulshan ko dekha kusum ne aa raaz kiya
jinka tha mohtaj jamana aaj unhe mohtaj kiya

kabhi mere gulshan ki daliya hari bhari lehrati thi
hari bhari lehrati thi jhum jhum se sundar kaliya
geet suhane gaate the tha saraswati ka vaas yaha
daulat inshan ki dasi thi the roz naye tyohar yaha
har roz diwali aati thi the roz naye tyohar yaha
ye kisne besur aaj kiya jinka tha mohtaj jamana
aaj unhe mohtaj kiya

naye tarane sunte sunte bhul gaye
ham apna dal gairo ke sang chalte chalte
bhul gaye ham apni chal
aish mojh fashion me faskar
aaj hua bharat kangal
roti roti khade pukare
bharat maa ke lakho lal
roti roti khade pukare
bharat maa ke lakho lal
roti roti roti

Internal strife, a poisoned chalice,
Brought Bharat low, a land once grand,
Whose wealth the world did once embrace,
Now begs, a beggar in the land.
We squabble, locked in bitter fight,
While strangers seize the fallen throne,
Whose bounty once did shine so bright,
Now left in hunger, all alone.

In Bharat's breast, a river flowed
Of milk and honey, rich and deep,
With coffers bursting, overflowed,
Where joyful souls would softly sleep.
Where Kubera's hoard was held in trust,
And diamonds gleamed in every place,
Where earth turned gold, no grain of dust,
Now withered, lost, a barren space.
The blooming garden, once so fair,
Is overrun by weeds of woe,
Whose greatness once beyond compare,
Now begs, a beggar, to and fro.

My garden's boughs once swayed with grace,
Green leaves in dance, a vibrant sight,
With blossoms blooming in their place,
And melodies of pure delight.
Where riches served humanity,
And every day a festival,
Where every dawn was jubilee,
Now silence hangs, a mournful pall.
Who hushed the music, stole the cheer?
Whose glory once the world did crave,
Now begs, a beggar, filled with fear?

Lost in foreign melodies,
We've traded our own path for theirs,
Entangled in false luxuries,
While Bharat suffers, caught in snares.
Consumed by fashion, ease, and show,
Bharat is poor, her spirit frail,
Her children cry, their voices low,
For bread, for hope, their hearts now wail.
For bread, for hope, the starving plead,
Bharat's children, brave and bold,
For bread, for bread, a desperate need.