telephone dhun me hansane vaali
melbourne machhali machalane vaali
digital me sur hai tarasha
madonna hai yaa natasha
zaakir husain tabala tu hai kyaa
sonaa sonaa teraa chamake rup salonaa

sonaa sonaa cellular phone tum to ho naa
computer ko le kar bramhaa ne rachaayaa kyaa
telephone dhun me hansane vaali
melbourne machhali machalane vaali
tum naa hote to dhup nahi hoti rimajhim bhi naa hoti
tum naa hote to chaand nahi hotaa sapanaa bhi nahi sajataa
tum ko pukaaraa saanse khushbu phailaa rahi meri

tumase bichhada to bahati havaaye bad ho gai kyun
paani na hota jharane naa hote ye vaadi naa hoti
milata naa tu to meri jaan nahi hoti ye pyaas nahi hoti
gori nadiyaa apane me har din mujhako dubaanaa
tum naa sharmaanaa zulfo me apani khud ko chhupaa lenaa
telephone dhun me hansane vaali
melbourne machhali machalane vaali

naam tera kisi ko lene nahi dunga vo sukh bhi nahi dungaa
gajara tumhara girane nahi dunga murajhaane nahi dungaa
mere alaavaa kisi aurat ko naa paas bulaanaa
tum naa kabhi bhi mother teresa ko chhod ke naam naa lenaa
teri galiyo me koi mard na chhod ungaa aurat bhi naa chhod ungaa
teri hansi ko udane nahi dungaa mere dil me basaa lungaa

showroom me saajan aurat ki murat chhune naa dungi
jivan me pritam tumhe pyaar ki rekhaa paar karane naa dungi
telephone dhun me hansane vaali
melbourne machhali machalane vaali
digital me sur hai taraashaa
madonna hai yaa natasha
zaakir husain tabalaa tu hai kyaa
sonaa sonaa teraa chamake rup salonaa
sonaa sonaa cellular phone tum to ho naa
computer ko le kar bramhaa ne rachaayaa kyaa

Laughter in the telephone's song,
Melbourne's fish, where do you belong?
Digital notes, meticulously spun,
Madonna's echo, or Natasha's run?
Zakir Hussain, are you the tabla's heart,
Golden, golden, your radiant art?

Golden, golden, cellular phone, you are the one,
What did Brahma craft, with the computer's sun?
Laughter in the telephone's song,
Melbourne's fish, where do you belong?
Were you not here, sunlight would fade, no drizzle would gleam,
Were you not here, the moon would be lost, no dreams could teem.
I call to you, and my breaths unfurl, fragrant as a dream.

When separated from you, the breezes cease to flow,
No water would exist, no waterfalls to show, this valley would not grow.
Without your presence, my life would be naught, this thirst I would forgo,
Fair river, each day, immerse me in your embrace,
Do not shy away, in your tresses, find your space.
Laughter in the telephone's song,
Melbourne's fish, where do you belong?

Your name, I will let no other speak, of that joy, I will not keep,
Your garland, I'll not let fall, nor let its beauty weep.
Besides me, to no other woman, will you draw near,
Never, not even Mother Teresa, will your name revere.
In your streets, no man shall I leave, nor any woman free,
Your laughter, I will not let it fly, within my heart, it will be.

In the showroom, love, no woman's form will I let you touch,
In life, beloved, the line of love, I'll stop you, oh so much.
Laughter in the telephone's song,
Melbourne's fish, where do you belong?
Digital notes, meticulously spun,
Madonna's echo, or Natasha's run?
Zakir Hussain, are you the tabla's heart,
Golden, golden, your radiant art?
Golden, golden, cellular phone, you are the one,
What did Brahma craft, with the computer's sun?