Wednesday, June 20, 2007

Hijda Touching the Sky

she stood on the drum
elavated to touch
the feet of godliness in the sky
she danced the tandav
ripping the soul of her
consciousness by and by
weeping confused tears
that fell like dry petals
on the ground
i knelt down to hear
their whimper
a sigh ..
reverberating a silence
that said why why why ..

The Hijdas of Chennai..

This is a picture I shot of the Hijdas I met at Abdul Rehman Street
I introduced myself to them and they were from Chennai and I told them I was coming to Koovagam in April for the greatest event of Hijdas..
Where they get married to the Lord Iravan and the next morning they mourn the death of their lord , break bangles and become widows till the next time they return to Koovagam..

The Hijdas of Chennai..
They called me Firoze Bhai
They promised to meet
Me at Koovagam
Where they will become
Brides for just one night
Lord Iravan they will marry
In the Morning he will die
They will become widows
Break bangles tear their clothes
Smear ash on their bodies and cry
Yes in April I will party with
the Hijdas
also known as Aravanis
from Chennai.
And if you want to accompany me
Call me before April and not
In June or July….

poem no 959
It was unfortunate I did not go to the Eunuch Festival this year, I was nursing an injury on my right hand I had slashed the tendon on my right hand with a sword, was totally out of action, even today after several months I am handicapped, I cannot lift anything,, the pain has become a part of my daily regimen.
I was asking my Hijda Guru Laxmi to connect me to the Hijdas of Kamatipura so I can shoot them without being hassled by the Gurus and the ToyBoys of the Hijdas.

Haji Malang Beckons

from every gharana they come
hijdas beautiful winsome
to haji malang
a babas kingdom
placing the chaddar
at his feet
to his divinity succumb
some want an entire loaf
some find godliness in a crumb.

Initially I posted pictures of the Hijdas of Haji Malang at Buzznet, those that I had shot on digital , but I had shot negs too got them scanned on CD.This CD got misplaced after many months I did find it..unfortuntely I never shot a single picture of Lakshmi Narayan Tripathi who I met in these surroundings after 11 years.
Haji Malang is sheer Mysticism..Hit this spot once you will come to tems with your innerself.. its not about religiosty its about the rough environment..areas that you need to trek to really explore it

HIJDA Blindfolded Blasphemy

The Hijda community
My fascination
That gives birth
To my Eunuch poetry
My Transgendered
Blithe spirit
Lakshmi Narayan Tripathi
She is my Hijda Guru
Me her Chela
She a devotional
Me in my pictorial
Un Testicular Fortitude
Terrorized by a
Male Dominated
Society ..
Man and Women born Free
The Hijda
Death in Captivity.
Blindfolded Blasphemy

I have not a single picture , since a month, yesterday I had my Naga Sadhu visitor ,, Balak Naga Sadhu from Junagadh, he removes holy ash from the air, does a lot of spirtual mumbo jumbo, but is always asking for the trinkets in my shop or for black material to make his wrap up dress.I gave him some money, he was here a few weeks back, you can see his pictures on this link below...

Hijda at the Turner Road Traffic Signal

Begging at the signal light
The Tuner Road beggar kids
Dwarves , pipsqueaks of all heights
The Hijdas woes the Hijdas plight
They pull her saree
Tease her torment her
but become friends after a fight
share her sorrows
no childish frights
evening crawls into Bandra nights
playing vehicular music
such awesome sights
fucked forever are
fundamental rights
report obscene
reality bytes

Androgynously Amorphous the Cry of Man

On New Years eve
At Bandra Bazar Road
They burn the effigy of Man
A coward
Also a Superman
What he does
Nitihari kids killing
Rape sodomy
Bombing, murder
Arson burglary
No one can
God fearing
Man hating
Gods first mistake
In a cosmic plan
Why did he not give
Him the intelligence
Of a dumb animal
To make him a better man
When god came on earth as man
It was god who was crucified
Killed by man as man
Satanic serpent seed
The seed of man
Sometimes brave
Sometimes ran
Multi colored
Hue man
Fatalistically fucking fate
The ignominy
Of the alpha
Omega man
Like a phoenix
The Metrosexual man
He overrides women
This chauvinistic man
Becomes a hijda
Transgendered tragedy
Androgynously amorphous
The cry of man.

Eunuched Soul

A masculine mind
A Hijda soul..
Far away thoughts
Pegged to a totem pole
a magic carpet she unrolls
as predestined plurality
takes a stroll ..
she me reversal roles
open municipal manholes
abysmal fall ..
unequivocal goals
deodorized mothballed armholes
androgynous anomaly she condoles
my fucked life seen through peepholes

Hijdaeroticness at Large

Hijdaeroticness is a word coined by me Hijda Guru Laxmi Narayan Tripathi it is a term to define the sexual sensitivity of a Hijda a sponged object of curiosity.
Everyone wants to know about the Hijda , if you see the term used in Google search that ultimately reach my site at Word Press on Hijdas you will be suffused with a sense of surprise and the notoriety of the term used.
Everyone wants to know about their private parts, their life styles , how they fuck , the size of their dicks, their abnormal tits what not .
I am certain most of the guys have one death wish , make love to a Hijda before they die ..I mean it .I know guys lusting for Hijdas its like caviar, its like a heady aphrodisiac..
The Toy boys I met with Hijdas are fed up of woman menstrual machinations, women the sickly dirt act of making love to them, the pregnancy, the huge monstrousy bloated belly.. People are going for simplicity , unemotional complexity ..they are moving towards the Hijda ..
They are distancing themselves from cunning conniving lustreless Women..
These are my pedestrian views apropos the Hijdas and their lovers ..Many a times I have been asked to shoot their lovemaking at Kamatipura I politely refused..
I am into the Hijda ethnicity admiration, I am an open book and you read me as such..I respect the access the Hijdas give me , I bring their cause to let them live as humans and not humanzoid freaks..

Callously choked
The gutters of my brain
Acid rain on
My multicolored designer ass
Those who are more crazy than me
Call me insane
When I pass by them they feign
The best of me as sugar
Diabetically drain
A mound that has
become a funereal plain
Yes I missed the bus and also
The train
Walking barfeet
Pictorially slain
My bad luck still on the wane
God save me from
The showers that will
Semi drown me
In Bandra Bazar Road Rain
My epitaph seen through a microscope
On a rice grain
Blood clotted..
Seminal stain
My manhood a sham
Some more pain
Hijda I am not
But this testicular fortitude
I cannot sustain
My sexual orientation
Does not complain
Me and my libido
In gargantuan chains
My pedestrian poetry
Fails to explain.
Does not remind
Me of a Fostered Blaine
Poem hunter deleted poetry
Without my pictures was not my terrain
Yes I miss writing bird cock poetry
Vaginal whispers
Vaginal monologues
transgendered disdain
A sinking boat drowning coxswain

For Sale ..Humanity at the Flea Market

A sorry
sordid tale
my thoughts the distress upscale
a man a woman
at the flea market for sale
once drinking from the holy grail
time and tied
their lives derailed
good times over
to bad times nailed
from a land of contentment
to a land of sorrow they have sailed
in a flea market jailed
no anticipatory bail,,
just a road map no trail
human life is a tragedy
humanity dubiously frail
in between gender
wanting to be a eunuch
though biologically male

Yes I am a Hijda in a Eunuch Society

Yes I am a Hijda
a Daliesque metaphor
in manly disguise
weaned by a eunuch society
layers of corrugated
paper thin lies
that sucks
my surrealistic sorrow
razor sharp tears
cutting the hollows
that are caved in
bombed visions
more dead than alive
yes slits
venetian blinds
for hopelessness
that protects my eyes
from more accusative lies
my putrid flesh on the
fly infested clothesline
of my sweaty soul
in despair dries
everyone even
my selfish shadow
from me shies
my dharma
my karma
in boa constricted vice
divinity that lives
my perished
penile perversion
ambidextrous aversion
on my testicular
fortitude dies
my death rending shrieks
that settle on the cavernous
of a blog goddess
hovering between planet earth
a mushroom umbrella
opening the other way up
bursting the devious
dams in the skies
revolting rainfall of
cheap bottled aerated water
smell of old spice
renamed anti Christ

Mona the Hijda I became

I am a wretched
Smudged ink stained
Xerox copy of a woman she said
I was born a boy my mother
Died n childbirth
My father with the midwife fled
I was bought up by a distant uncle
Sold at Bhandup Brothel
From a boy castrated
The agony the pain and the dread
Given a bleeding sindoor a saree
Playfully called Mintoo
Mona the Hijda I became
Sleeping night after night
My kismet I did blame
Fucked by men in white
Fucked by men in khaki
Fucked by my sense of shame
Rectal reminiscences
Anal penetration
Blow jobs as they came
The beatings of the Madam
The inner scars unhealing
Part of my picture frame

Neither Man Nor Woman Asleep

neither man nor woman
lustreless transgendered sleep
within a framework
of concretised claustrophobia
androgynously amorphous
neck deep ..
lying on a loveless roadside heap
as the lengthning shadows
on his anonymous ass creep
when he wakes up
man or woman or either
eunuched tears
uncrystalized to weep
a foetus unaborted
from a whorish mothers womb did leap
father a truck driver
she who was his keep
living life was expensive
but making babies was cheap
dysfunctional genitalia
given in the arms of the hijdas
this little bo peep
scarred discarded
municipal roads to sweep
the body the soul
engendered upkeep

This was a picture that I shot just before Otters Club.. I had carried my camera , stopped the rick shot a few frames flipped this horizontal...the rest were unfocussed because of my injured hand.

Man Without Balls

As a child he played
with his sisters dolls
school days all those
hijda cat calls
yes testicular fortitude
eunuched tears
like soiled rainfalls
the irony the agony
of a man without balls
rectal reminicences
from the cradle to the grave
he crawls ..
dancing trinkets
ghungroo feet
bacchu ki wadi
infested mujra
dancing halls
once i was born an adonis
silently he recalls
oh to be a hijda
prostituted pitfalls

This is inspired poetry of hijda sadness..I am not much of a group man...

This is dedicated to a one man group of the same name on flickr.

Tansgendered Tragedy

She dances
the mujra dance
to set her
soul free
from a man
she becomes
a woman
her defiance
her bravery