bewafa yu tera muskurana
yaad aane ke kaabil nahi hai
bewafa yu tera muskurana
yaad aane ke kaabil nahi hai
is kadar julm uthaye hai tune
is kadar julm uthaye hai tune
sar uthane ke kaabil nahi hai
bewafa yu tera muskurana
yaad aane ke kaabil nahi hai
bewafa yu tera muskurana

maine khat likh ke unko bulaya, bulaya
maine khat likh ke unko bulaya
aake kaashid ne dukhda sunaya
unke pairo me mehandi lagi hai
unke pairo me mehandi lagi hai
aane jaane ke kaabil nahi hai
unke pairo me mehandi lagi hai
aane jaane ke kaabil nahi hai
bewafa yu tera muskurana

maine phone karke unko bulaya, bulaya
maine phone karke unko bulaya
unki mummy ne aake uthaya
maine phone karke unko bulaya
unki mummy ne aake uthaya
unke hatho me mehandi lagi hai
unke hatho me mehandi lagi hai
phone uthane ke kaabil nahi hai
unke hatho me mehandi lagi hai
unke hatho me mehandi lagi hai
phone uthane ke kaabil nahi hai
bewafa yu tera muskurana

maine puchha ke kal shab kahan the, kahan the
maine puchha ke kal shab kahan the
pahle sharmaye phir hans ke bole
aap wo baat kyu puchhte ho
aap wo baat kyu puchhte ho
jo batane ke kaabil nahi hai
aap wo baat kyu puchhte ho
jo batane ke kaabil nahi hai
bewafa yu tera muskurana
yaad aane ke kaabil nahi hai
bewafa yu tera muskurana
yaad aane ke kaabil nahi hai
bewafa yu tera muskurana
yaad aane ke kaabil nahi hai
bewafa yu tera muskurana

Your smile, a traitor's art,
Unworthy of remembrance's ache.
Your treachery, a cruel, sharp dart,
Too harsh a burden for my heart to take.
Your smile, a traitor's art,
Unworthy of remembrance's ache.

I penned a plea, a whispered call,
To bring them near, to mend the tear.
The messenger arrived, to enthrall,
"Their feet are stained, the henna's here."
Their feet are stained, the henna's here,
Unfit to journey, filled with fear.
Their feet are stained, the henna's here,
Unworthy of remembrance's ache.

I dialed their number, voice so low,
Hoping to hear their gentle sound.
But Mama answered, heart aglow,
"Their hands are dyed, the henna's bound."
Their hands are dyed, the henna's bound,
Unfit to answer, without a sound.
Their hands are dyed, the henna's bound,
Unworthy of remembrance's ache.

I questioned then, "Where did you roam?"
Last night, beneath the silent stars?
They blushed, then laughed, within their home,
"Why ask of things, behind closed bars?"
Why ask of things, behind closed bars?
Unworthy of telling, and afar.
Why ask of things, behind closed bars?
Unworthy of remembrance's ache.
Your smile, a traitor's art,
Unworthy of remembrance's ache.
Your smile, a traitor's art,
Unworthy of remembrance's ache.
Your smile, a traitor's art.