"Main ro padta hoon… jab guzra zamana yaad aata hai…"
He wasn't in his cramped one-bedroom apartment anymore. He was back on that takht. The ceiling fan was slower back then. The afternoon light was yellower. Nana was humming along, slightly off-key, but smiling. His grandmother was bringing a plate of samosay from the kitchen, scolding Nana for playing "sad songs" again. "Main ro padta hoon… jab guzra zamana yaad
Na Jaane Kyun Tera Milkar Bichhadna Yaad Aata Hai (I don't know why I remember us coming together only to part). "Main ro padta hoon… jab guzra zamana yaad