mera taaruf
are na puchho

purane zakhmon ko mat kuredo
mera taaruf jo tum samajhte ho wo nahin hai

introduction
main apni galiyon ki dhul mein khel kar badhi hun

main khwab ki umr mein bhi haalat se ladi hun
main apne aaba ki qabr par khilne wali wo khushnuma kali hun

jo apne hone ke jurm mein
har saza ko hans hans ke katti hai

who am i
don't scratch old wounds

who am i
not what you think i am.

i have grown up playing in the dust of my alleyways
i learnt to fight for myself at an age when others

dream dreams
mera taaruf to kuchh nahin hai

mera taaruf to bas wahi hai
jo mujh se pahle azim 'ghaalib' ka 'mir' ka tha

wo 'mir' jis ko khuda-e-sher-o-sukhan ka rutba ata hua tha
magar gada ki tarah mara tha

azim 'ghaalib' jo mai ki khairaat mangta tha
i am that winsome bud which blooms on my

forefathers' graves
and must smilingly endure every punishment merely

because it exists
i have no name.

call me by the name
of the great ghalib* who came before me

by the name of mir
mir, who was hailed as the god of poetics and verse

but who died in poverty
the great ghalib

who had to beg for his wine.