Friday, 31 March 2017

The Ship of Pain

We all sail
the ship of pain.
Some feel more pain 
Some seems to feel less
But all feel the equal pain.
Degree of pain is same
What differs is 'that' position
in which one feels the pain.
And all pain ends only
with the end of the voyage.

© Shujaudeen Shuja
(Picture Curtesy Google )

Sunday, 16 March 2014


Dust flies and flies on dusty things,
Walk. There is a concrete surface still.

Wind blows, blows everything,
Blow not you, then there remains everything still.

Fallen roofs, broken walls, ruined cottages,
There are trees, stones, and soil still.

Rays come and go, nothing stops until you.
Breath. There is fresh air of dawn still.

O Noblest of all creatures of His mighty creation!
Despair not, there is a stillness of still, still.

© Shujaudeen Shuja

Thursday, 5 December 2013

How Many Decembers ?

How Many Decembers? 

When I was a child I didn't understand 
Why my parents start warning against going out 
Whenever the month of December begins.
The growing Khadi – Vardis and leaves’ dress
With guns and Lathis in their hands
Troops start appearing in groups 
Around mohallas, mosques but colonies
Indicating that, ‘Anything can happen at anytime’. 

When I was a child – I ask nothing, knew nothing 
But kept locked myself with my family 
Behind the four walls
Till now on every December.
No one allow to go out, 
Not even to prayers 
As if 144 section implemented only for us
As if, ‘Anything can happen at anytime’. 

Where are those naughty chirping birds of crowded boughs?
Why are the empty play grounds 
And vacant mohallas which were never used to be…
Why I see today army vans near mosques
Circling the Government’s Carsevaks around.
Then I understand 
The fear on the faces of my parents
Fear of those still echoing cries, horror of untold nightmares
Of that 6 December and thereafter Decembers
Then I understand
Why my parents start warning against going out 
Whenever the month of December begins.

 © Shujaudeen Shuja (Chapparban Shujaudeen Nizamodeen)

Saturday, 2 November 2013

A Festival of Rocking…

A Festival of Rocking…

And the noise startled my ears
To look out of my window
See nothing but the smoke everywhere
I step out of my room to move around.
I see…
somewhere tinny-mini diyas around the houses
as lighting fences
somewhere dhudum-dhadam-dhudum sound
some raja-maharaja or Sultan coming around.
somewhere among them the rocking children voices
and somewhere again come chit-chat-chut- or soooooooooooor noises
sparkling-n-circling of fiery crackers…
sparkles of fire flying and crossing skyscrapers.
decorated balconies of houses with lamps
the lamps of electricity, paper, plastics and the lamps of mud.
When I ask someone what’s this happening? 
A reply come it’s a festival of rocking.

Friday, 25 October 2013

It’s Part of Life again...

It’s Part of Life again...

When I look at people
People look at elsewhere...

When i look at elsewhere
People look at me...

It’s Life again…

© Shujaudeen 
Picture is taken from the campus of University of Hyderabad,India 25/10/2013