A quiet evening where poetry spoke, and every word found a home in listening hearts, says SAKSHI PRIYA
Poetry has a way of reaching people in moments where conversation falls short. When it’s shared aloud - with pauses, silences and breath, it doesn’t just sit on a page. It finds its way into the room, into people’s memories. And that’s exactly what happened at the 56th edition of the Shankar-Shad Mushaira, held at Modern School, Barakhamba Road.
The Mushaira, first held in 1954, carries with it a long tradition. What began as a shared idea between two friends, Lala Murli Dhar and Sir Shankar Lal, has grown into one of Delhi’s most significant cultural gatherings. Organised by the Shankar Lall Murli Dhar Memorial Society in association with DCM Shriram Industries Ltd., the evening held its place with quiet confidence.
From the beginning, the audience settled into their seats not just to watch, but to truly listen. Groups exchanged a few words before the event began, but as soon as the poets took the stage, the focus was entirely on the spoken word. Some leaned forward, elbows on knees, others simply closed their eyes, choosing to hear rather than see.
Iqbal Ashhar hosted the evening with clarity and calm. He didn’t rush, didn’t overstate, allowing space for each poet’s mood to take root in the hall.
When Javed Akhtar stepped up, he let his words find their own weight. There were no forced turns of phrase, just a deep sense of conversation. His lines travelled across the room in a way that felt both personal and wide-reaching, each poem like a letter addressed to everyone. Prof. Waseem Barelvi followed with lines that felt lived-in. “Yeh sheher har baar ek naya rang deta hai” - his words didn’t just reflect memory, they brought the city into the room. The audience responded not with noise, but with stillness. It was the kind of silence that says: we are with you.
Each poet brought a different voice, a different mood. Azhar Iqbal’s clarity allowed space to think between lines. Dr. Gauhar Raza’s delivery balanced structure with insight. Dr. Popular Meeruthi sparked laughter, not with punchlines but with clever, precise rhythm. Then came the softer tones - Shabeena Adeeb, Khushbir Singh Shaad, Aleena Itrat, whose words moved slowly but stayed longer. There were also voices of resistance, of heartbreak, of belonging. The audience heard each one as a presence.
This year’s addition, the Shankar-Shad Shayari Contest, opened a door for younger poets. Their words stood comfortably alongside the rest of the evening. Their presence was felt. A reminder that poetry is still being written, and still being heard.
Sh. Madhav Bansidhar Shriram, Chairman of the Shankar Lall Murli Dhar Society, reflected on the continuity of the event. “This stage has seen decades of poetry and remains a place where words are treated with respect.” A simple line that seemed to capture the feeling of the evening.
During short intervals, people spoke about what they’d heard. Some jotted down couplets on the back of programmes, others shared verses quietly with their neighbours. In corners, small groups discussed a turn of phrase or the way a poet had ended a line. In every part of the hall, something of the poetry remained.
As the final poem drew to a close and hands came together in applause, nobody rushed for the exit. Many sat for a while longer, as if unsure how to step out of the space they’d just been part of.
Spoken soul
We didn’t come just to hear poetry. We came to feel something real. A line here reminds someone of their first love, another brings back a voice long gone. No one needs to explain anything — a quiet nod, a smile, a pause says it all. We came with noise in our heads, and left a little lighter, carrying something gentle back into the night.
Listening with heart
There’s a stillness that takes over just before a poet begins — a stillness of shared attention. Eyes lift from programmes and phones are quietly set aside. In that moment, it doesn’t matter if the person beside you is a stranger or if you’ve never heard the poet’s name before.
A single couplet can bring the entire room a little closer. People came to hear poetry and to feel it stir something within. Some closed their eyes; others nodded gently, as though the poet had reached into a corner of their memory.
The crowd was as diverse as the verses — students, teachers, writers, elders, and curious first-timers all sat side by side. Some had been attending for years, while others had only just discovered what a Mushaira could be.
In a time where distraction often takes the front seat, the Mushaira offered a reason to simply pause. And the audience gave in to it completely — with a kind of listening that isn’t hurried, one that holds on to every word. As the evening drew to a close, many stays in their seats, not out of formality, but because they were moved. The 56th Shankar-Shad Mushaira reminded everyone why poetry matters — because in just a few words, it can say what we often feel but struggle to express.
