Bikaau Hai Sab Lyrics, Meaning & English Translation

What is “Bikaau Hai Sab” about?

“Bikaau Hai Sab” is a emotional pop/indie song in Hindi by Married Moonda (Bikaau Hai Sab, 2026-08-07). Bikaau Hai Sab opens by refusing the usual metaphor and replacing it with a blunter one: this is not a world, it is a mandi — a wholesale market — and all of us arrived here to be sold.. Read the full lyrics with English translation below, or stream it on Spotify and YouTube Music.

Bikaau Hai Sab — Lyrics

Ye duniya nahin.. ek mandi hai Aur hum sab.. bikne aaye hain Bikti hai mitti, bikta hai paani Bikti hai jhoothi har ek kahani Saudagaron ki is bheed mein yaaron Bikti hai har roz apni jawani Dekho ye bazaar-e-zamaana, kaisa hai iska khel Yahaan imaan bikta hai, jaise bikta ho tel Khwabon ke packet hain, keemat hai bas chaar din ki hansi Hosh mein aao deewanon, ye hai ek meethi faansi Social media ki dukaan, lagi hai subah-o-shaam Har like, har share ke peechhe, ho raha hai dil neelaam Filteron mein chhup gaye hain, chehron ke asli daag Andar hai raakh ka dher, par baahar jal rahi aag Ishq ka bhi offer hai, limited time ki deal Use and throw ki duniya mein, kya real hai, kya feel? Saste ho gaye hain rishte, mehngi ho gayi hai shaan Har koi hai yahaan graahak, har koi hai ek dukaan Chamakti battiyon ke neeche, andhera hai ghana Ye taraqqi ka maseeha, khud shaitaan hai bana Ye bazaar hai, bazaar hai, ye matlab ka bazaar hai! Bikaau hai sab! Yahaan pyaar nahin, vyapaar hai, bas nafe ka khumaar hai! Bikaau hai sab! Teri soch pe bhi kabza hai, tere shauq pe bhi kabza hai Ye bazaar hai, bazaar hai, ye vahmon ka ambaar hai! Bikaau hai sab! Breaking News ki cheekhen, dekho nonch rahi zameer TRP ki daud mein, lut rahi hai har taaseer Kisaanon ki siskiyaan, jawaanon ka balidaan Sab content hai inke liye, sab ek sensation ka samaan Dharm ka bhi dhanda dekho, kaisa hai ye karobaar Nafraton ke beej bo kar, karte hain saamraajya taiyaar Shiksha ke mandiron mein, bikti hain degreeyaan Gyaan to bas kitaabon mein, qaid hai sadiyon yahaan Ye jo oonchi imaaratein, chhoo rahi hain aasmaan Inki neev mein dabe hain, kitne mazdooron ke nishaan Saste ho gaye hain aansu, mehngi ho gayi muskaan Har koi hai yahaan pyaada, har koi hai ek kaptaan Chamakti aankhon ke peeche, laalach ka hai ghana saaya Ye kaisa daur hai aaya, ye kaisa daur hai aaya? Ye bazaar hai, bazaar hai, ye matlab ka bazaar hai! Bikaau hai sab! Yahaan pyaar nahin, vyapaar hai, bas nafe ka khumaar hai! Bikaau hai sab! Teri soch pe bhi kabza hai, tere shauq pe bhi kabza hai Ye bazaar hai, bazaar hai, ye vahmon ka ambaar hai! Bikaau hai sab! Kabhi socha hai tumne, is chamak ke paar kya hai? Is shor ke siwa, koi sunne waala yahaan hai? Hum bech rahe hain apni roohen, chand kaagazon ke liye Aur sochte hain ki hum.. taraqqi kar rahe hain Kitne naadaan hain hum Ye bazaar hai, bazaar hai, ye matlab ka bazaar hai! Bikaau hai sab! Yahaan pyaar nahin, vyapaar hai, bas nafe ka khumaar hai! Bikaau hai sab! Teri soch pe bhi kabza hai, tere shauq pe bhi kabza hai Ye bazaar hai, bazaar hai, ye vahmon ka ambaar hai! Bikaau hai sab! Sab bik gaya Baaki bas.. ye khaamoshi hai..

Original recording by Married Moonda — listen on Spotify

English Translation

Translated by My Geet AI Beats

This is not a world.. it is a wholesale market And all of us.. have come here to be sold The soil is for sale, the water is for sale Every false story is up for sale In this crowd of traders, friends Our own youth is sold off, every single day Look at this bazaar of the times — look at the game it plays Here integrity sells the way cooking oil sells Dreams come in packets, priced at four days of laughter Come to your senses, you dreamers — this is a sweet noose The social media shop stands open morning to night Behind every like, every share, a heart is being auctioned The real scars of faces have hidden behind the filters Inside, a heap of ash — outside, a blazing fire Even love is on offer — a limited-time deal In a use-and-throw world, what is real, what is feel? Relationships have turned cheap, status has turned expensive Everyone here is a customer, everyone is a shop Beneath the glittering lights, the darkness is dense This messiah of progress has himself become the devil It is a bazaar, a bazaar — a bazaar of motives! Everything is for sale! There is no love here, only trade — just the intoxication of profit! Everything is for sale! There is a claim on your thinking, a claim on your tastes as well It is a bazaar, a bazaar — a mountain of delusions! Everything is for sale! The screams of Breaking News — look at them clawing at conscience In the race for ratings, every true feeling is looted The sobs of the farmers, the sacrifice of the soldiers To them it is all content, all material for a sensation And look at the business of religion — what a trade it has become Sowing the seeds of hatred, they build their empires In the temples of education, degrees are up for sale Knowledge stays imprisoned in books, as it has for centuries And these towers rising high, touching the sky — Buried in their foundations are the marks of how many labourers Tears have turned cheap, a smile has turned costly Everyone here is a pawn, everyone is a captain Behind the shining eyes lies greed's dense shadow What an era has arrived — what an era has arrived? It is a bazaar, a bazaar — a bazaar of motives! Everything is for sale! There is no love here, only trade — just the intoxication of profit! Everything is for sale! There is a claim on your thinking, a claim on your tastes as well It is a bazaar, a bazaar — a mountain of delusions! Everything is for sale! Have you ever wondered what lies beyond this glitter? Beyond this noise, is anyone here even listening? We are selling our souls for a few pieces of paper And we believe that we.. are making progress How naive we are It is a bazaar, a bazaar — a bazaar of motives! Everything is for sale! There is no love here, only trade — just the intoxication of profit! Everything is for sale! There is a claim on your thinking, a claim on your tastes as well It is a bazaar, a bazaar — a mountain of delusions! Everything is for sale! Everything has been sold All that remains.. is this silence..

Discover Married Moonda

Loved these Hindi lyrics? This site's own artist — Married Moonda — has 100+ original songs. Tap any to play free, right here.

More originals

Like what you hear? Follow on Spotify — every new song lands straight in your Release Radar, and a follow helps more listeners find the music.

Follow on Spotify

Meaning & Story Behind “Bikaau Hai Sab”

Bikaau Hai Sab opens by refusing the usual metaphor and replacing it with a blunter one: this is not a world, it is a mandi — a wholesale market — and all of us arrived here to be sold.

The song works by pricing things that are not supposed to have prices. Faith sells like cooking oil. Dreams come in packets with four days of laughter as the sticker price. Love is a limited-time offer. The recurring inversion is the sharpest device in it: relationships have got cheap while status has got expensive; tears have got cheap while a smile has become costly. Everything with worth is discounted, everything performative is marked up.

The middle section names targets directly rather than gesturing — news channels tearing at conscience for ratings, farmers' sobs and soldiers' deaths reduced to content, religion run as a business that plants hatred to build an empire, degrees sold in the temples of education while knowledge stays locked in books. Then the image that lands hardest: these towers touching the sky have the marks of buried labourers in their foundations.

The chorus escalates from commerce to occupation — there is a claim on your thinking, a claim even on what you enjoy. Not just goods for sale; the buyer already owns the appetite.

It ends without a solution and knows it. We are selling our souls for a few pieces of paper and calling it progress — how naive we are. Then: everything has been sold, all that is left is this silence.

FAQs About “Bikaau Hai Sab”

What is the meaning of “Bikaau Hai Sab”?

Bikaau Hai Sab opens by refusing the usual metaphor and replacing it with a blunter one: this is not a world, it is a mandi — a wholesale market — and all of us arrived here to be sold.