The Girl Child 60 Years of Freedom

The Girl Child 60 Years of Freedom
Originally uploaded by flickr photographerno1

People seem to hate the girl child.
Worst people hate the harshness of my words on the girl child, what I have done to earn their ire fails me, some people shadow boxing on my views on the girl child, sparring over a kind of tree that perhaps does not grow in their garden.
I have a thought why you guys don’t want immigrants from the 3rd world, you don’t want your powdered nose to be dragged into a mire of the stories you read in newspapers.. most of them are true..
I talk of India nothing else concerns me, no, not even China, I know a family living on the streets of Bhendi Bbazar, on the pavement and on the main road, no ambushed by lane, this lady sells gemstones on a charpoy, a cane and twine bed,, she is robust and has about a dozen kids, big ones, the sons are all into drugs, smoking, and the daughters are like canned juice, the glass ones break very fast, the daughters have kids, daughters of course, one of them is about the safe side of 8, but looks grown up. all these folks live on the pavement, just where the best bus comes and empties the passengers every 5 minutes. all seeing the growth of the growing girls, the sons wives too sleep here, funny the sons wives are ugly as sin,. not the original sin.
Every friday I come to the flea market the children start all kinds of poses to tempt me shoot them, a new child and they will literally throw her in my arms for the magic of a photo, so imagine in complete public view 24/7 no walls no windows no doors,, no privacy ..a cage of humanity in an open zoo.
A human zoological garden, this Bhendi Bazar area is like Harlem, slightly meaner no rules, no returns, I am very fond of this 8 yr girl and she will be doing her home work or her granny will be combing her hair I often ask her about her studies and she gives me a beatific smile.
They trust me and I am a spender on stones, I keep my distance, on the pavement sits a somber public lavatory ,where the adults do their business the kids do it on the roads, this family is on the same pavement since 35 years or more, I learnt one golden rule don’t ask too may questions, I haven’t shot this family for about a year now.. and the other headache is the crowds; they just gather around you, a unique Indian quality and wont disperse. If i am shooting they will see that they squeeze into the frame.. as simple as that, now I ask you what is the future of th 8 yr old girl. I wont answer.

Then back at Bandra are the flower girls, the flag girls, the traffic gang kids, real good kids, but they know they have to produce fast ,another kid to add to the labor force, a kid slung on a kids shoulder brings in good healthy returns, I have seen with my inner eyes the very smile of innocence ,chubby kids turn into mothers, and the kids, the little ones 2 or 3months are drugged so they don’t feel the pain.. and what is pain in the dictionary of the underprivileged .
Pain is the name for hunger, here God does not exist, their God is Man who gives them charity and a charity of turning them into adult in a single night. I used to know a guy who could not do if he didn’t sleep with these women, he used to hunt the commercial ones at the up market Juhu beach..

Then you have the depraved middle class migrants, they bring little kids from their home towns and then,, when the wife is away do everything the wife wont do and the kid takes it lying down literally., another problem if you try to mix with the kids then they slap pedophilia charges too, but it exists in Goa, every where, and some get caught some go scott free.., the name of the game is money..
Sometimes the wolf is not a stranger but the school teacher, the relatives and the servants at home,,, demoralize the innocence that it never blooms again, E A my new friend at Buzznet told me too many pictures I post lose their impact.. if it was about impact I would be in bed with the Mrs and cajoling her instead of finger fucking my key board, I cant see the written word.. I can see an image... the imagery of lost childhood. I am not a writer, it all began with, you guys, imagine a dozen words in the sling and I am attacking goliath...the goliath of a sleeping, conscience,

The images for this journal will stun you...as they stun me I put my soul to the view finder,

This was my first written post all in large font when I set out to write the first page of my brand new Buzznet journal ..I have like the Virginia Slims come a long way.. this was written in August 2005.