Where Can I Find Mastani Lyrics With Translations?

Hearing the music from 'Deewani Mastani' always makes me want to explain what the lyrics mean in plain English, because the words are soaked in history, devotion, and a little delicious drama. At the simplest level, 'Mastani' is a name — she’s a historical figure — but the adjective 'mastani' (and related words like 'mast' or 'mastana') also means intoxicated, ecstatic, or lost in rapture. So when the song keeps circling around phrases that pair 'deewani' (madly in love/obsessed) with 'mastani', it’s both naming her and describing the state she embodies: a woman utterly consumed by love, almost beyond social restraint. If you want a literal feel, treat the chorus as a declaration: the singer describes Mastani as being wildly in love, dancing between devotion to one person and a kind of religious, trance-like abandon. Lines you’ll hear that invoke music, dance, and eyes are often symbolic — eyes that speak of longing, a body that moves in devotion, and a heart that has surrendered. There’s a strong Sufi and devotional undercurrent: love is painted not only as romantic attachment but as spiritual surrender. The historical context — Bajirao and Mastani, the 18th-century Maratha general and his beloved — infuses the lyrics with tension: social exclusion, fierce loyalty, and the courage to love publicly when the world says otherwise. On a practical note, if you want a line-by-line translation, I’d look for a trusted transliteration plus a translator’s notes rather than a bare word-for-word rendering. Poetic phrases like 'deewani ho gayi' literally mean 'has become crazy' but in context they mean 'overcome by love'. Words like 'nazaare', 'mehfil', or 'jhoom' show up frequently — 'nazaare' are scenes or sights, 'mehfil' is a gathering, and 'jhoom' means to sway or be intoxicated. Listening while reading a translation helps — I often replay parts of the song while following a lyric video to catch the emotional shading. If you want, tell me a specific line you heard and I’ll give a crisp, line-by-line translation and the little cultural flavor that makes it mean so much to me.

You know how one little song title can split into a dozen different things online? That’s the case with 'Mastani' — there are a few tracks and references with that name, so the quickest way to get the exact lyricist is to pin down which soundtrack you mean. If you’re talking about the big, famous one connected to the film 'Bajirao Mastani', the whole soundtrack credits can be a little distributed: the music was overseen by the film’s director-composer and the album often lists individual lyricists per track rather than a single name for everything. I’ve spent afternoons digging through movie credits and album booklets for this kind of stuff, and usually the most reliable places to check are the physical CD/album liner notes, the official music label’s release (like YouTube descriptions from the label), or streaming services that show credits (Spotify and Apple Music have gotten better about this recently). If the soundtrack you're asking about is from something else, like a TV series, an indie album, or a classical piece titled 'Mastani', the method is the same: look at the official release notes first. Secondary sources that are still usually trustworthy are Discogs, MusicBrainz, and the soundtrack’s IMDb page (films and shows list full music credits in the end credits too). I once confirmed a lyricist name from a vintage CD insert that wasn’t listed anywhere online — sometimes the physical extras are gold. So, I can’t confidently drop a single name without knowing which 'Mastani' you mean, but if you point me to the movie/show/album (or paste a link to the track), I’ll track down the exact lyricist and where that credit appears. In my experience, most hopeful searches turn up the creator’s name in either the official label upload or the end credits of the film; try those first and tell me what you find — I love hunting these down with other fans.

If you're thinking of 'Deewani Mastani' from the film 'Bajirao Mastani', the lyrics became publicly available when the song was released as part of the movie's promotional soundtrack in late 2015. I dug through my old playlist and press clippings from that year — the film itself hit theatres in December 2015, and the makers released several tracks and music videos in the months leading up to the premiere. That’s when fans first got official access to the written lyrics via music portals, lyric websites, and the video descriptions on official channels. I’ll be honest: pinning an exact calendar day can be fiddly because songs often appear in stages — audio on streaming platforms, a video on YouTube, and then the full soundtrack or album listing on stores like iTunes or Spotify. Fan uploads and lyric sites often mirrored the official release within hours, so if you were following the hype back then (I was), you probably saw the words circulating across social feeds almost immediately. If you want the precise timestamp, the quickest route is to check the official label or the film's YouTube uploads and streaming metadata; those timestamps usually show the first public release. Either way, late 2015 is the right time window, and it feels nostalgic to think about how everyone was sharing those lines on repeat before the movie arrived.

I still get chills when the opening strains of 'Deewani Mastani' hit — that voice feels like it belongs to royalty on-screen. In the film 'Bajirao Mastani', the parts that represent Mastani’s singing were performed by Shreya Ghoshal. Her voice carries the softness and emotional sweep that matches Deepika Padukone’s on-screen presence, and it’s Shreya’s vocals that you're hearing whenever Mastani sings in those big, dramatic scenes. Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s music leans into classical and cinematic textures, and Shreya’s timbre fits that palette perfectly. I’ve watched the film a bunch of times across different moods — alone with headphones, on a lazy Sunday with friends — and I always notice how the playback singing elevates the whole sequence. It’s worth pointing out that playback singing is its own art: actors lip-sync, but the emotional weight comes from the singer. Shreya brought that depth to Mastani’s lines, and you can hear it in not just 'Deewani Mastani' but in the other moments where Mastani’s emotions take center stage. If you’re curious about credits, the soundtrack lists Shreya Ghoshal on the key tracks that carry Mastani’s voice. If you like, try listening to the isolated song tracks outside the film — you’ll appreciate how the vocal nuances are recorded without the visual distraction. Shreya’s phrasing and micro-details — her subtle vibrato, breath control, and how she lands notes — make those scenes land emotionally. For me, her voice is a big part of why Mastani feels like a vivid, living character rather than just a figure in a period drama.

There’s this small thrill when a line from 'Deewani Mastani' slips into a stranger’s cover and twists into something new — that’s the clearest way I can describe how mastani lyrics have shaped fan renditions. For me, growing up on both filmi albums and late-night classical radio, those lyrics felt like a bridge: they carry royal, poetic images and a cadence that begs to be ornamented. When I’ve sung lines from the chorus at home, I find myself adding little gamaks and slides, borrowing from khayal and thumri styles, because the words invite that kind of expressive phrasing. Watching covers online, the influence shows up in two big ways: vocal approach and visual storytelling. Vocally, fans lean into a dramatic bent — breathy opens, elongated vowels, and those signature ornamentations that make the words feel ancient and intimate at once. Visually, people replicate the period costumes, the palace backdrops, or they reinterpret the same lyrics in completely different settings: a basement metal cover with the singer in leather, or an indie-acoustic take with an open road behind them. Even language gets playful — I’ve heard translations into Marathi, English mashups, and tiny spoken-word bridges that expand the original poem. What keeps me hooked is how the lyrics encourage collaboration. A musician friend and I once made a duet cover where I handled the classical flourishes and they layered in synth pads; the comments were full of people sharing their own vocal tips and costume ideas. That communal creativity, forged around a few evocative lines, is honestly my favorite part of fan culture right now.

There’s something almost cinematic about the way Mastani’s lines fold into the music, and that’s the first thing that hooked me. I often put on the track when I’m cooking or taking the long way home, and even when my mind is half on a grocery list, the words pull me back: the metaphors, the repeating motifs of longing and defiance, the mix of sacred and everyday imagery. Those contrasts—devotion and desire, public honor and private rebellion—are emotionally huge but expressed in concise, image-rich phrases, so listeners from very different cultures can feel the core emotion even if they miss a literal word here and there. The production helps too. A singer inflects a phrase a certain way, a tabla or a string swell answers it, and suddenly the line becomes more than text; it’s a lived moment. I love how the vocals carry ornamentation that hints at classical training but the arrangement gives it pop immediacy. That fusion of tradition and a modern pulse makes the lyrics feel timeless and fresh at once. And on top of that, the character perspective—someone claiming love and identity against social strictures—resonates globally. People everywhere have root stories of forbidden love or standing up for self, so Mastani’s lines translate emotionally whether you grew up in Mumbai, Madrid, or Montreal. On a very personal note, the best moments for me are those tiny repeated refrains that act like mantras. When I’m stressed, humming them calms me in a way that feels almost ritualistic. That might be the secret: the lyrics are both story and spell, and once they latch onto you, they stick in the heart rather than just the playlist.

There’s a rhythm to Mastani’s words that feels less like plotted dialogue and more like a pulse finally allowed to speak. When I listen to lines sung as Mastani, I hear how the lyricist works like a surgeon and a painter at once: cutting into private ache with abrupt verbs and stitching sumptuous images with color, spices, and wine. In 'Deewani Mastani' the recurring metaphors of intoxication (‘madness’, ‘wine’, ‘drunk’) aren’t just romantic clichés — they’re a way to show surrender and power at the same time. She’s intoxicating because she’s dangerous to the order around her; the words celebrate desire while also announcing a new identity that won’t be quietly folded into tradition. I’ve sat through the scene a few times — in a noisy café and later with headphones on a late night — and something else becomes obvious: Mastani’s lyrics often mix public pronouncements and private breath. The chorus sections use repetition and strong, declarative lines that work like banners in the palace: proud, visible, impossible to ignore. Verses with softer images, rhetorical questions, or apostrophes to a beloved drop down into intimacy. That switch in perspective—‘look at me’ to ‘do you see me?’—is where the emotional texture lives. You can almost hear her costume change from armor to silk when the language shifts from assertive metaphors (swords, banners, fire) to tender sensory images (touch, color, scent). Another layer I love is how the lyrics reflect her blended background without spelling it out. There are words and cadences that suggest other languages and cultural references, which makes the character’s lines feel like a bridge between worlds. In 'Pinga' — playful and competitive — the teasing couplets and confident refrains turn emotional friction into spectacle: joy, rivalry, and stubborn dignity all wrapped in rhythm. Even when a line is short and simple, its placement and the musical swell behind it give it weight; a single vocative like ‘Bajirao’ can carry both worship and accusation depending on its melody. For me, listening for shifts in pronoun use, metaphor clusters, and repetition is the best way to unpack Mastani’s mood in any scene — then watching the actor’s pauses and the music confirms it, and I always catch something new the next time I watch. If you haven’t tried it, listen once just for the images, a second time for the verbs, and a third for the spaces between phrases: that’s where her contradictions live, and where the lyrics do their most honest work.

If you're planning to sing 'Mastani' for a living-room singalong with friends, that's one thing — if you're putting the lyrics up on a screen in a bar, streaming a karaoke video on YouTube, or selling a karaoke track, that's another. From my experience crashing karaoke nights and tinkering with home video uploads, here's the practical split: private, noncommercial use (you singing in your kitchen or at a small house party) is usually fine. Public performance, distribution, or making a lyric video typically involves someone else’s copyright, so you need permission or a license. Legally speaking, there are a few different rights at play: public performance rights (for venues or public events), reproduction/mechanical rights (if you’re copying or distributing the song), and synchronization or display rights (if you show lyrics or visuals synced to the music). If you want to run karaoke at a bar, the venue often needs a blanket license from a performing-rights organization in your country. If you want to upload a lyric karaoke video to YouTube, you’ll likely need permission from the music publisher — otherwise Content ID claims, takedowns, or revenue-sharing can happen. What I do when I want to be safe: use licensed karaoke services or official karaoke tracks that include permission to display lyrics, pay for a performance license for public events, or contact the publisher for sync/display rights if I'm making a video. It’s a bit of a drag compared to just blasting a track, but once you sort the licensing you avoid surprises — and the karaoke crowd doesn’t care as long as the mic works and the words are on screen.