mohe aata nahee hai chain, mohe la de table fan
kee mausam garmee kaa

abhee se itanee garmee lage, naa jane kya hoga aage
mai kaise katu din rain, mohe la de

har gayee mai lemon pee pee
pyas bujhee naa phir bhee jee kee
sun le mere bain bain, mohe la de

dal dal chhumantar aisa dal, bombay ban jaye nainital
phir mil jayenge nain nain, mohe la de

Rest eludes me, a restless plea,
A table fan, bring solace to me,
For summer's fiery reign is here.

Even now, the heat's a brand,
What future torments lie at hand?
How shall I endure the day and night?
Bring forth the fan, a cooling light.

I've drowned in lemonade's sweet guise,
Yet still, my heart for coolness cries,
Oh, hear my mournful, weary strain,
Bring forth the fan, to ease my pain.

With magic touch, a wish I weave,
Transforming Bombay, I believe,
To Nainital's serene domain,
Where eyes shall meet, and peace remain.
Bring forth the fan, to end this strain.