Tere Ishq Mein Ghayal [2021] «Validated»

So let me bleed. Let me stumble. Let me fall at your feet until my bones turn to dust.

I have become the madman at your door, the faqir who collects thorns as if they were roses. The world calls it a sickness. I call it ghayali —the holy wound. tere ishq mein ghayal

In your ishq, the pain is not a poison. It is a pilgrimage. Every ache is a prayer bead. Every sleepless night is a temple. Every drop of sweat on my brow is a verse I cannot speak aloud. So let me bleed

Not by the careless turn of your wrist, or the sharp edge of your goodbye. No—I was wounded by the first sajda of your eyelash. You looked at me, and I bled poetry. I have become the madman at your door,

For in this wound, I have found my soul’s address. And there is no cure I want. No healing I seek.

I tell them: I am ghayal.

Tere ishq mein ghayal— and for the first time, I am perfectly broken. Would you like a Urdu-Hindi transliterated version or a musical lyric adaptation of this piece?