ye husn ka hai bazaar yaha
aurat ki kahani bikti hai
aurat ki kahani bikti hai
ik jinda lash yaha bikti
ik murda jawani bikti hai
ye husn ka hai bazaar yaha
aurat ki kahani bikti hai
ik jinda lash yaha bikti
ik murda jawani bikti hai
jo biwi ko thukrate hai
wo thokar khane aate hai
o o
jo biwi ko thukrate hai
wo thokar khane aate hai
is paap ki putli ke aangan me
punay kamane aate hai
bebas aurat ki aahe aur
dil ki kurbani bikti hai
dil ki kurbani bikti hai
ye husn ka hai bazaar yaha

besharmi ki bottel khulti hai
aur tutte laaj ke daam yaha
o besharmi ki bottel khulti hai
aur tutte laaj ke daam yaha
lala ban aate ram yaha
babu ban aate shyam yaha
gokul ki gwalin bikti hai
aur awadh ki rani bikti hai
ye husn ka hai bazaar yaha
aurat ki kahani bikti hai
ik jinda lash yaha bikti
ik murda jawani bikti hai
ye husn ka hai bazaar yaha o o

jis ghar me beta aata hai
aur likhta prem ka khata hai
jis ghar me beta aata hai
aur likhta prem ka khata hai
bhugtan ko lene is jodi se
baap bhi aata jata hai
in kaale kotho pe mardo ki
meharbani bikti hai o o
meharbani bikti hai
ye husn ka hai bazaar yaha

ye aasman se nahi giri
ik dharti ki hi aayi hai
ye aasman se nahi giri
ik dharti ki hi aayi hai
jitne hai inke diwane
kai baap hai aur kai bhai hai
kulvadhu ki mehandi aur chudiya
har ek nishani bikti hai o o
har ek nishani bikti hai
ye husn ka hai bazaar yaha
aurat ki kahani bikti hai
ik jinda lash yaha bikti
ik murda jawani bikti hai
ye husn ka hai bazaar yaha

In this market of beauty, they trade,
Woman's story, a price is paid.
A living corpse, they sell it here,
Dead youthfulness, year after year.

In this market of beauty, they trade,
Woman's story, a price is paid.
A living corpse, they sell it here,
Dead youthfulness, year after year.
Those who scorn their wives at home,
Come here to stumble, to roam.
Oh, oh,
Those who scorn their wives at home,
Come here to stumble, to roam.
In this sinful doll's courtyard, they seek,
To earn some virtue, however weak.
The helpless woman's sighs, her plight,
Her heart's sacrifice, sold in the night.
Her heart's sacrifice, sold in the night,
In this market of beauty, they trade.

Bottles of shamelessness are uncorked,
And modesty's prices are mocked.
Oh, bottles of shamelessness are uncorked,
And modesty's prices are mocked.
Here, Ram comes as a lustful guise,
And Shyam, with deceit in his eyes.
Gokul's milkmaids, they sell them too,
And the queens of Awadh, their stories accrue.
In this market of beauty, they trade,
Woman's story, a price is paid.
A living corpse, they sell it here,
Dead youthfulness, year after year.
In this market of beauty, they trade, oh, oh.

In the house where a son is born,
And love's account is forlorn,
In the house where a son is born,
And love's account is forlorn,
To claim the dues, from the paired,
The father too, often is ensnared.
On these dark dens, men bestow,
Their favors, their graces, they sow.
Oh, their favors, their graces, they sow,
In this market of beauty, they trade.

It didn't fall from skies above,
It's born of earth, this market of love.
It didn't fall from skies above,
It's born of earth, this market of love.
The devotees who frequent this place,
Fathers and brothers, of the same race.
The married woman's henna, her rings,
Each memory, the market brings.
Oh, each memory, the market brings,
In this market of beauty, they trade,
Woman's story, a price is paid.
A living corpse, they sell it here,
Dead youthfulness, year after year.
In this market of beauty, they trade.