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

Saturday 19 October 2013

On the Waves of Water...

How joyous it is to jump on the waves of water
How happy it was even that short departure

From this hotchpotch world
Unsolved riddle furled unfurled and furled.

Rocking on the waves no fear of drowning 
Company of waves gives real experience of living.

I see faces of bubbles and waves as if reigning on the surfaces
Appear as if ‘ll never disappear but alas! Where’re those faces?

So silent tempting, so lovely floating waves
Beware! They can take our still loving life, these waves.

So with the gorgeous gurgling waves of water let’s sing

The ballads of summer and the lullabies of spring.
© Shujaudeen 

Monday 7 October 2013

No Door for Coexistence


No Door for Coexistence

There can be compromise but no door for coexistence
Of the Politicians and the common
And the Capitalists and the labors/downtrodden 
And there should not be any but resistance.
"For the people, by the people" may be their utterance
Their tongues may speak what you want,
But their eyes always seek what they want.
Remember it’s just to exploit, an irremovable historical distance. 

© Shujaudeen (On 11/06/2013 @ 10:30 pm)

Saturday 5 October 2013

The Clouds of Silence ...

The Clouds of Silence...

Here again they are gathering
The clouds of silence
On the scattered sky of my time
The clouds of silence are gathering again.
Born out the depth of separation
Without thundering and lightening
As gradual as before.
Pregnant with many tears
Carry stories of life
Carry the grace of happiness, sadness
Love, anger, joy and fear.
Clouds are born to burst somewhere.
But alas! I see no sign of their shower
I don’t know where they will stop?
And where they will burst? Or will never


The clouds of silence… 





30/10/2013 @ 1:30 am


Wednesday 2 October 2013

I Still Remember...

I Still Remember…

And I still remember
Your tapering eyes, spread lips and dimples on cheeks
Fragrance of your appearance even in your absence
I still remember …

And I still remember
The sweet symphonies of your soft footsteps walking with me
Slowly under the smooth shining of the sun
Bestowing gentle blessing upon us for our union...
I still remember …

And I still remember
Your fairy glamorous grace
Like blossoming petals of rose-bud of fresh flowery face
Rushing and gushing towards the corridors of my mind and heart
Bring comfort and solace and sometimes hurt…
I still remember …

And I still remember nothing
But everything that I spent in your arms
Grows my ecstasy and remind her charm…
I still remember…

Do you remember?
Our cowboys’ plays behind the bushes
I run to catch you, strip on my eyes,
You come from back and pushed me into grass.
And those tip-tip drops of that water fall,
Papers’ ships in our little oceans in rainy seasons.
Those memorable moments under the tamarind trees
Creeping of sparrows and hissing of breeze.
Don’t you?
I still remember…

(Chapparban Shujaudeen Nizamodeen, Hyderabad, India. email:shujaudeen09@gmail.com)
© Sajaudeen Chapparban 2012  
A Sufi Thought...



When I think,

I think of none

But One

That’s all…




Those who came and settled in cities...
Those who came and settled in cities Settled somewhere Somewhere here and there In known-n-unknown cities Forgetting their own people, people of their own people
As if they have nothing to do with them. Came by leaving Mother who used to be anxious Whenever they get home even little late 
Father’s anxiety and loved anger Forgetting all obligations of theirs They leave them alone in the oldage Those who came and settled in cities...


This Hindi-cum-Urdu poem first Published in a Hindi Magazine "ITyaadi Patrioka " from Dept of Hindi, University of Hyderabad. http://ityaadipatrika.blogspot.in/p/blog-page_2830.html
शहर में आके बसने वाले...

शहर में आके बसने वाले
बसने लगते है यहीं
यहीं कहीं जाने अनजाने शहरों में
अपनों को भूले, अपनेवालों को भूले
मानो कुछ लेन-देन ही नहीं उनसे
भूल आते है
वो माँ जो बेचैन रहती
गर वो जरा भी देर घर लौट आते
वो बाप की बेचैनी और प्यार का गुस्सा
भूलकर सब अहसान उनके
बुढ़ापे में अकले छोड़ आते है ये
शहर में आके बसनेवाले

छप्परबन सजाऊदिन निजामोदिन (शुजा)
शोधार्थी, तुलनात्मक साहित्य

Transliteration

Shaher Me Ake Basne Wale....

Shaher me ake basne wale
Basne lagte hain yahin
Yahin Kahin jane-anjane shaheron me
Apno ko bhule, apne walon ko bhule
Mano kuch len-denhi nahi unse
Bhul aate hain
wo Maa jo bechain Raheti
gar ye zara der ghar laut aate
Wo bap ki bechaini aur pyar ka ghussa
Bhul kar sab ahesaan unke
Budhaphe me akele chor aate hain ye
Shaher me ake basne wale.