Sunday, August 19, 2007

Eyeless in Gaza

Eyeless in Gaza
Originally uploaded by flickr photographerno1
I shut my eyes
Not wanting to see
The nakedness of human values
The nakedness of religious bigotry
The nakedness of political
Machiavellian machinations
Mirrored as Reality
Little children in the clutches of
Little children abused
On the Altar of Man
Money making Pornography
Women used as bait
Manacled chained
Into Sexual Slavery
Man the Child the Father
God Super God Demon
A Coward behind an Armour
Of Bravery
I shut my eyes
Not wanting to see
Voiceless soundless
As I write online Poetry
To be read after my death
By a faceless nameless posterity

In Praise of Brother Yoonus

you are a full flowing fountain of poetry

you words gift to poets who read and some who hawk (not eagle hawk)
some misread poems and mock poetry
some who hammer poets and knock poetry
some go on and on and on talk poetry
some who derationalize and mock poetry
some should no more can they unlock poetry

Zeenat …Catch me If You Can

Zeenat …Catch me If You Can
This was Zeenat having a wild time , me shooting her there was just a soul or two in the room, this spacious room belonged to Basanti.. the Eunuch Queen .. had Zeeenat done her makeup groomed herself better proper threads this would have been a memorable set of pictures, I try no to remove any impediments from the path of my shoot they break the monotony of the moment as I saw it and reality is what matters in the end.. fuck I cannot understand photographers who are into having their pictures reviewed expect everyone to love their pictures, I was review pictures online at Fan Art review, sometimes just to learn from other peoples conceit, I gave three stars , I am asked by the photographer why I gave three stars he was confused, I replied had I in my confusion given 5 stars you would still be confused.. I gave up reviewing from today.. poetic reviewing can be fuckin confusing..but this was one of my first sites..when I floundered my soul on the sinking shores of the Internet.And for the record I dont go to

1)Fotothing.. moharram pictures deleted , I deleted my 600 blogs here in a single night

2)Webshots.. moharram pictures deleted . I stopped posting here

3)Xanga ..lost atlantis

4)My Space I have regitered but not open my account as a lady blog expert told me kids play marbles over here .

5)Sulekha Blogs..666 sign of the devil all deleted a Muslim bashing experience out here for me.. perhaps I was not the copy book kind of Muslim they were expecting /

6)Photoplanet stopped posting

7)Flickr deleted recently

8)360 degrees Yahoo .. juvennile dementia.. yes i am a juvenile also deleted

9)Live Journals … buzznet was just enough stopped going there

10)Fanart review… poetic pause…here to be seen you have to pay,,, gave up..

11 )Buzznet both accounts deleted..

12 Poem hunter deleted 1000 poems stopped posting

Old Bloggerspot deleted 3750 post the account too

New Blogger stopped posting completely once came aboard Word Press.

The only place now is my home site , besides Word Press.

April 23rd, 2007

Update I am posting at Flickr crossblogging to
poems I am reposting at poem hunter
My home site has a techie problem I cannot post pictures there.

They Hang Him Everyday

they hang him everyday
they who believe in him
they who live
in white houses
with the jews
in their pay
they bomb
from above
godly showers
of acid rain
conveniently get away
yes they hang him everyday
imperialistic hegemony
the shield of St George
with which they slay
they who go to church and pray
i am the resurrection and the life
his words as their misdeeds betray
well lord god jehovah is AWOL
on a lengthy holiday
cat and mouse at play
he will return perhaps on Judgement day
or on dec 25 th that is his sons birthday
break satans vertebrae
also the decider
who is his protege
but till then
they hang him everyday

This is the Cross on Waroda Road …a silent spectator of a topsy turvy word…lucky to have got away …crimes commited by others for their sins he had to pay ….

I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed him. And power was given unto them over the fourth part of the earth; to kill with sword, and with hunger, and with death, and with the beasts of the earth.
- Revelation (ch. VI, v.

And he gathered them together into a place called in the Hebrew tongue Armageddon.
- Revelations (ch. XVI, v. 16)

April 23rd, 2007

Bring Me to The Church on Time

“For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him will not perish but have eternal life. God did not send his Son into the world to condemn it, but to save it.
John 3:16-17

Jesus told her, “I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die like everyone else, will live again. They are given eternal life for believing in me and will never perish. Do you believe this, Martha?”
John 11:25-26

Even when I walk through the dark valley of death, I will not be afraid, for you are close beside me. Your rod and your staff protect and comfort me.

You prepare a feast for me in the presence of my enemies. You welcome me as a guest, anointing my head with oil. My cup overflows with blessings.

Surely your goodness and unfailing love will pursue me all the days of my life, and I will live in the house of the LORD forever.
Psalm 23:4-6

But when I am afraid, I put my trust in you.
Psalm 56:3

I am fed up of living
lies , falsehood, fraud, hate
I have decided to go home
into deaths catacomb
I shun your living
world of colors
I opt for a funereal world
of monochrome
On the wings of angels
I will let my fancy roam

This was shot at Chimbai near St Andrew Church on Easter Sunday ..even Death gets held up in Lifes Traffic Jam.. but he made it to the Church on time..

April 23rd, 2007

No Dont Be My Valentine

love sweet love
has found a new shrine
the local police station
rs 1200 fine
public display of affections
is the way they define
moral policing on the incline
sugary solutions
touch of saccharine
must streamline
tears alkaline
no holding hands
no looking into each others eyes
no dont entwine
lovers upgraded manual
some new guidelines
for god sake dont you ever say
on 14 feb be my valentine
no not even to your concubine
love that was once
painted divine
now with a brush
diluted turpentine
dreams of my blog goddess supine
cybernetic love that tastes like
distempered kitten
in a basket of she wolves
looks ferociously feline
friar tucked face of a lupine
phallic phantasies
dreams serpentine
to the fires of hell
all lovers consign.

The same couple a different angle..

Buzznet Memories..

April 23rd, 2007

Where Love Has Gone

lovers at carter road
look very withdrawn
the dreaminess of the rocks
the waves let out a yawn
remembering those
trembling moments
where love has gone
hate for these lovers
that society has spawned
the sanctimoniousness
of the moral brigade
at the marwari shop pawned
dark days in
the garden of eden
adam eve
the serpent and beyond

I shot this as after sometime you wont ever see these sights…a bleaky landscape without love or lovers..stay away from isolated spots…dont get caught in the fishermens nets..
The lovers ae fined Rs 1200/ if caught mooching holding hand petting or hugging and booked at the local police station...
April 23rd, 2007

Fallen Woman Carter Road

her eyes say it all
her rise and her fall
this breakable human doll
perhaps in some distant
fading memory
she was a gangsters moll
good times what a ball
waltzing standing tall
she draped in a pashmina shawl
now there is silence in the hall
corridors of nostalgia
just a bleeding brick in the wall
a loaded dice luck changed hands
the final downfall
at carter road divider
she now lies sprawled
bruised mangled mauled
kicked left right and center
womanhood footballed.

I shot this pathetic sight , she saw me shooting her, just see into her eyes.. you wont need to read my poem..I shot a few more shots all washed away..was she kept there as a subject for my camera eyes, honestly lets face it who really has time to bother about her, at the promenade , all rushing through their walks, reducing cholestrol, blood sugar..
Why should someone write a few lines she is discarded from the mainstream of her womanhood.. cars pass her by , dogs pedigreed bark at her presence.. see out there the crow man feeding biscuits to the crows a little ahead guys having natural soups, further down the lady is buying Alphonso mangoes, …Carter Road love less mourning for her lost lovers…on the periphery of a hazy horizon you can see a few multicolored fisherman posteriors doodling shit on the rocks …a guy squirting water watching the urinary designs.. a man with a skull cap squatting doing the same feat timidly.. Carter Road at the moment they have not decided to name it ‘Alistair Pareira Passed This Road ‘..
Naivedya 85 ..pristine white , work unfinished in full swing Bollywoods Most Wanted Couple ..are expected here very soon..ARAB..
This morning in a car having coconut water were the Carter Road triplets ..I wished them moved away…
Carter Road

April 23rd, 2007

Hornets Nest Poem Hunter Revisted

Little insects
living in a hornets nest
don’t harm their own
mutual compatibility
blindness to faults
of their own kind
a love of true living bind
but here living as poets
on a street pavement
of a cyberspace
that does not belong to us
we who write about love god
all human sentiments
faults find
blind folded hate
essence of human living
killing each other
self suicidal mantra
of menopausal mankind
the white superior race
can’t do without kicking
a black or a brown behind
superiority of a pompous
pedantic piss ass poet mind
perhaps everything no mind
living in a ghetto of reflected glory
of an incurable sickness
a poet’s corner quarantined
made in a poets heart
god have mercy
poisonous fumes unwind
if not today , tomorrow perhaps
to obscurity will be consigned
poets hornets nest at poem hunter
not just words as poetry
but multicolored hate enshrined
all vying to lay the queen bee
to many queen bees wanting to be poets
visits on this poets ass
number of hits
today’s favorite
as a poets statistics of more hate
i was not aware of this aspect when i registered
as a member on the dotted line signed
not just poetry but the rest of me
badly bruised maligned

Drunken Dementia

Drunken Dementia
Originally uploaded by flickr photographerno1
photo courtesy

the divine nudes of drunk

many a titanic have sunk

love rises from the waters

like a wizened photographerno1

a pictorial poetic junk

i have gone celibate

i am now known

as penis wise pound foolish phenomenon

old monk.

the wisdom of a gekko

the irony of a drunk

The Immutable Shia Thug



Shia Thug

Not a Coward

Shia Thug



Shia Thug

Sweet and soured

Shia Thug

Non electric


Shia Thug



Shia Thug




Shia Thug

Man powered

Shia Thug


Shia Thug


Shia Thug

Dumb ass

Shia Thug

Devoured by
Cannibalistic women poets

Horse powered
Shia Thug
In her perfumed bowered
Shia Thug

a pictorial poetic whetting stone man

sharpens knives, choppers, cleavers, the whetting stone man, razor sharp sharpness as fast as he can , pedalling his cycle like no other man..

the whetting stone man, flintstoned futurity before the world began.

cut chop mince , a dash of coriander in lifes frying pan.

peddaling away his fortune the whetting stone man

to sharpen your intelligence, your twisted tongue and your twisted mind

do you need a pictorial poetic whetting stone man..

american women poet wearing seminal stained trousers

pretending to do be man.. wetting man

The Middle Path UNMADE

poets should learn to feel poetry before they write
words within words to be translated with human light
but here at poem hunter poets only know how to bitch and fight
god have mercy for those not made pristine white
muti colored misery this poets soul in flight

Om Mani Padme Hun

Om Mani Padme Hun
Originally uploaded by flickr photographerno1
Photo courtesy Bennbell.Buzznet.Com/User/Journal/36717/?R=814649433

Om Mani Padme Hun, a sacred formula of buddhism (Esp. Of
the lamaists) Translated ``O, the jewel in the lotus,
amen,'' and referring to amitabha, who is commonly
represented as standing or sitting within a lotus.

Om Mani Padme Hun
an inner evolution
buddhas gem of a thought
the only solution
stop persecution

of humanity,
breathe in sanity
breathe out insanity
stamp out vanity
in our diversity
live life
in amity

man to man in parity
let terrorism become a rarity.
Sans barbarity
man to man mankind
a single branch of solidarity
not hate comments as charity
despite my multi colored unpopularity

Sleep- Ins

Sleep- Ins
Originally uploaded by flickr photographerno1
Man for ever sleeping

Born by default

always weeping

needs a woman

For good housekeeping

Wounds of his heart


pus pain like seeping

man unsatisfied man

from one woman to the other

is always leaping

while he leaps

tom from a little hole

is peeping and shaking

away his blues

to thoughts not

good for safe keeping


one mans pleasure
is another mans sin
some bullets out
some bullets in
like you i too despise
but it is pastime
for steve
women who love him
with or without
double chins even
women who want to bed him
in coffins

dedicated to epiphany 229 and founder of buzznet bulletins steve

Another Terrorist Attack

This is one of the pictures I shot late in the night of the Mumbai serial Train bomb blast, from midnight till about 2.30am I shot Bandra, Mahim , Matunga was terrible 7/11 ..a night that wont ever fade away from our collective consciousness...


a needle in a haystack

investigative agencies

forensic science unpack

300 suspects

15 to a wolf pack

a pot calling the kettle black

a case they will like

all other case crack

the lawsuit will break

the taxpayers back

i hate to say it

justice riding piggy back

of a system that is

a railway run

without a track

before you say

jack robinson

the terrorists will be back

resilience , strong willed

words by politicians

our collective conscience hijack

another governance lethargy

on the beaten track

like potatoes

crushed under

the weight of a sack

intelligence power failure

not taken aback

on the mumbaikars soul

another terrorist attack

Love Made in USA

Love Made in USA
Originally uploaded by flickr photographerno1
there s always a slip
between the cup and the lip
camera pouted smile
that i worship
while she shoots
from her hips
my temperature dips

a macro shot of love
a lunar eclipse
seen through
a golden ambered

reflected chip

continuity jerks

video clips

camera shake

movie scripts

she horse whips
when on her buzz
my foot trips
a killing minefield
my balls rips
my destiny
bound to the sails
of her ship
cybernettic trips.
love made in USA
my heart beat skips
my poetic predilection
my apocalypse

this is my ambered quartz I got from a Sufi mendicant 3700 carats...I paid but very little.


Originally uploaded by flickr photographerno1
Peaches Contest!

Hey everyone!

I just wanted to those of you who don't already know that Buzznet and Peaches are running a contest.

Here's the skinny- The rules of entry are very simple: Boys, its time to break out those high heels you have stashed in your closet, your eyeliner and your favorite dress and do your best to imitate the inimitable Peaches. For all you Ladies eager to play, do your best imitation of a boy who wants to be her.

The winning photos will be selected based on the contests successful gender-bending imitation of Peaches.

Each week, 3 winners will be chosen to receive an autographed copy of "Impeach my Bush" and a signed poster. Stay tuned at

Go crazy everyone, this is bound to be a fun one.

a boy into a girl

i hide my phallic thoughts

bring out

a clitoral pearl

the whole

buzznet in a tizzy

while i unwhirll

44c cup brassieres

on my flat chested frame

they hurl

my standard

wrapped in a winding sheet

i unfurl

pubic paranoia





the best of

me is culled

Hate made in USA

Hate made in USA
Originally uploaded by flickr photographerno1
photo courtesy google images

Poem: 7958324 - Weapons of Mass Destruction in your Backyard
Member: Marci Made

Comment: If you hate Americans so much, what are you doing on this site? PH is a place where people from all nations are united..You, whomever you are, with or without a painted face are a bitter person...Every country has murders.There are mentally ill people everywhere. American doesn't hold the patent on 'Mental Ills'.
It is a country where people are permitted to prosper and express their opinions in a constructive manner...This poem, IMOH, is pure HATE. We are a country that feeds and helps and defends more countries than any other country in the world...Preach your terrorism ways elsewhere, please...Leave PH a place of refuge and mostly peace. mm

Go tell it to your Prez
Go tell it to the Marines
Go visit Iraq Afghanistan
see the killing scenes
Marci Made
For once do come clean
You wear blinkers like the rest of you
Only your porch, your garden
Your America
The rest of the victimized world unclean
You who live behind a sanctimonious
Smoke screen
All thanks to Imperialistic
American Israeli Hegemony
That with help of bombs,
Sovereign rights of other nations preen
You are more bitter pompous
You have not even understood my poem
You dumb fatuous cow
I hope you know what I mean
A place of refuge and peace
The running hate for brown skinned poets
At PH you have not seen

Merci Mad Hate Made in USA
An underlying thought in between

firoze shakir

Happy World Photography Day 19th August 2007

I wish all photo enthusiasts photo freakazoids of the world and the very special ones on Flickrs Word Press and Bloggerspot, a very Happy World Photography Day .

On 19th August 1839, Arago made a presentation to the French Academies des Sciences and Beaux Arts, and described in great details the photography process invented by Daguerre. The French Government bought the process and presented it to the world on this day. The presentation discussed the evolution of Photography, predicted its brilliant future and the French Government having bought the process, offered its free use to the world. In an effort to establish permanent recognition for photographers on this historical date of August 19th, this day has been designated as ‘World Photography Day’. A function was held to felicitate the achievers from the entire photography industry for their contribution to the field of photography.

Well this was a function that I had attended in August 2004, where the citys famous photographers were felicitated, I think there might be some function at my camera club Photographic Society of India, but I have discontinued going there most of the clubs today have less to do with the promotion of Photography more with Politics , dirty polictics for any caucas group wanting to surplant its agenda self aggrandization ..this is what I saw and distanced myself completely from all aspects of this type of commercialisation of Photography..
I remember when I joined PSI I was the most vocal, loved this 65 year institution that was a home after work for the founders that gathered here shared their views , nurtured the tyro, the amateur with new experimental tricks in Photography.And this Institution was the dream vision of Mr Bhardwaj, Sam Tata , Unwalla, Mitter Bedi Kg Maheshwari, many unsung heroes , you can on a Friday gathering hear their heart beats of those that left the imprints still are a part of the Heritage of this hallowed Institution called Photographic Society of India..
I remember five years back Mr Shreekant Malushte bought me here , the musty smell, the moisture on the weeping walls, Mr Narayan Panje enrolled me as an Ordinary member , my enthusiasm , my winning best black and white picture every month at the competitions, Mr Girish Mistrys workshop on Light and Shade , this wheel chair Photographer knows photography ably learnt from his Guru the eccentric Bawa Phani Banda..f stops , what not, my meeting Prof BW Jatkar than Dronacharya KG Maheshwari placing my head at his feet to learn what I term as Unlearning Photography..

Than I joined another club run dedicatedly and single handedly by a master crafstman, a very private person, a lover of Photography Mr Anil Bhartiya of National Pictorial Photography Association.. the various workshops I went with him, the bullock cart races at Alibag , Murud, The Malshej Ghats shooting Flamingoes, than I was offered the Honrary Life Membership to the International Horizon camera club of Lucknow and here too I placed my head at the feet of a Giant photographer Mr PC Little whose pictures hang at the National Modern Art Gallery Delhi alongside Deen Dayal Sharma the father of Indian Photography.

I wont bore you guys, I joined the various International Forums, IIPC Delhi, FIP Kolkatta , and exchanged notes with Mr OP Sharma , Mr Benu Sen, Dilip Ghosh, Subroto Roy, of course another Lucknow maestro Mr Anil Risal Singh.
Yes I was a member of Photographic Society Of America .. it was a dungeon of taking you back to the Anselm Adam era, I think today American modern Photography is just breathtaking here I must mention just one Buzznet photographer a seveteen year old lad Tom.Do You Like It is his user Id.. I learnt much from him when I was swallowed up by a Whale of a Blog like Jonah… you must see his pictures you learn more from seeing pictures than paying a fortune that brooks no security of becoming as accomplisehed photographer as an Atul Kasbekar, Atul is far to prophetically gifted, he could study at Brookes , take up some other metier still be as famous as Atul Kasbekar the Photographer.And that he recognizes me at his Canon workshops says a lot about his love for amateurs like me..And without a Guru , you cant get into the esoteric world of demistification called Unlearning Photography..

I must now finally confess I took up Photography, this is not to squeeze any sympathy from you guys, I was a hardcore Alcoholic, had cirrhosis of the Liver diagnosed in its early stages, I placed clips on the side of my mouth to be able to push raw alchol, neat into my system, it was that bad, the Psyhchiatrist a Dr Khanna wanted to throw me in the Bin .. those huge capsules, injections my wife Afshaan, my sons Asif,Saif my daughter Samiya pulled me ashore, I am dry since almost 6 years.. bought the Nikon F50 , my first camera, Moharam pictures the rest is History… The Photo Blog that seduced my restless Soul,
(I never wrote before the Blog happened to me…so I guess I was a failed Man and not a failed writer as mentioned my main stream media when every Sunday Mass at the Church Of Chimes Of India , Fr Shobhan Saxena ..after completing the necessary rituals , the Bread the Holy Wine starts his fire and brimstone rhetorics.. about bloggers, failed writers, porn freaks, murderers, the usual crap, as though the real world of Page 3 nothing happens, its like the UP Amitabh Bachan Ad, no Nitihari in the making.. no cannibalisstic desires , what not…fuck give us a break…grow up for a change.. you realy are short of stories.. come up with something new…join Mr Shreekanth Malushtes Photography classes… unlearn…)
Brandon Stone at Photo blog Org asked me to join Bloggers to learn the Basics, I joined Buzznet , Fan Art Review , Fotothing, Webshots, finally my own home site powered by Coppermine Photo Gallery that my son Asif Shakir developed for me… I pay a tribute to Biz Stone .. yes who let the Blogs out.. Fuck I wish I knew..
I complete 2 year as Bollywoods Most Wanted Blogger no 1.
My newness is still intact at Flickr.
The Picture is of an Elephant who his hell bent on entering my Shop called Bollywoods Most Wanted Designer No1. every time he passes my shop lane.. he has never forgotten me, and this is Gods Truth..

April 9th, 2007

This was posted last year at Word Press I am too exhausted to write anything new.. stolen pictures my ass..

Weapons of Ass Destruction

Cumulative anal cravings

senile soul smooth

slippery vaseline unctions

fear is the key

rhapsodic rectal seductions

mind mentally metamorphosed

holistic healing

unmeaningful malfunctions

huge battering ram like cocks

weapons of ass destruction

iraq , iran syria afghanistan

in a single map

in the head of a megalo maniac man

a crescent crossing swords at every junction. .

December 27th, 2006

Callaghan of India

Callaghan of India .Mr Lebourne Callaghan and I studied French at the Alliance Francais in the 70s , our teacher was Alain Ficat.. and Mr Callaghan was the head of Roche products India , his secretatry was Mrs Nicholson..

Mr Callaghan modelled clothes for Burlingtons of Bombay on board the luxury liner that hit Bombay at Indira Docks.. QE2, Rotterdam, Royal Viking Sea, so many others.. and women , American women went into a swoon seing Mr Callaghan in ethnic Maharajah looking clothes .. tuxedos and kurta aligaris.Mr Callaghan did not charge for the modelling but money had to be paid to his favorite Old Folks Home or for the welfare of the Orphans and the Blind.And my boss the terrorizing traumtic, asthamatic Mrs Munni Gupta agreed and her brother Mr Andre Kapur the sauve good looker also agreed as Mr Callaghan was a sure shot seller of Burlington clothes.. And there was Mr Benjamin Caleb the manager the guy well known to cruise directors and the custom officers..And life on board the ships was huge tips , and lots of cold cuts More and Malboro, cartons of cigarettes and bottles of whisky the foreigners would drop at the shop as presents for me.. I met Mr Callaghan last before he died he was the Consul Genral of Ireland .. I made his suits..he was an impeccable dresser and carried a fresh lone rose on the lapel of his pin striped suit.

And than I was told he died suddenly , his son and daughter called me to his office at Royal Yacht Club where his body lay in the casket he was buried in Mumbai the city that he loved immensely.The Unsung Hero and a great Rugby player for Bombay Gymkhana. When I pass the Royal Yacht Club I look up where the Irish Consular office is situated , and feel that Mr Callaghan is waving out to me..

December 27th, 2006

Weapons of Mass Destruction in your Backyard

Its indeed very sad
33 dead
Virginia Tech massacre
By Cho Seung Hui
American South Korean lad
A bleeding message
Love turned sour on a note pad
Shows the American paranoid
Gun hysteria totally unclad

Weapons of mass destruction
in your backyard
you police other nations
bully and bombard
you own laws life cant safe guard
growing hopes
now lie buried in a graveyard
your Rambo like culture
your false bravado
another one bites the dust
blood on a green card
Charlton Heston
Gunslinger diehard
For human life no regard
Have gun will travel
To get some reward
In one stroke of madness
You world lies scarred
Tears to a family in India
On a postcard…

Times of India ..18 APRIL 2007

“Purchasers are allowed to buy a gun a month if they wish with no restriction on the type of weapon or amount of ammunition . AK47 assault rifles and Uzi sub machine guns can be bought legally over the counter.Computerised background checks often take place on the spot.Agencies.

April 18th, 2007

In Praise of a Brother Poet

Master of satire
you ted sheridan
will never tire
only your
maiden head of
a lady critic
will soon retire
poetry personal crticism
a bodily blow
on hire
sellers no buyers
ted sheridan
a gentleman and
an officer
a poet spirited squire
dancing with she wolves
distempered pussy kittens
live wire ..
A rose unlike firoze
bleeding menstrual
in a briar ..
If not poetry
what do we sire?
Low living lofty thoughts aspire
like a weathercock moving
east west north south
but precariously perched on a church spire

Hate Filled Poets of Doom

Being a woman
With characteristics
Of being a whore
Being a lady
Pretentious Parody
Being a sore
How can one poet
Be abusive to another poet
Verbal punches
to sensationalize and score
If this is poetry at Poem Hunter
Angels will step aside
Fools will enter this door
Healing Words
Feeling Words
Touching words all in store
The soul of a poet at its core
Love filled poetry in name
Hate filled Poets in shame
Should be shown the door

Tears for Bibi Fatima ! Curses For her Killers !

from this world into
the next world we will pass
tears for bibi fatima
beneath the shadow of alam abbas
oops taqqaiya
allah ho akbar
we bypass
dont throw stones
you live in a cybernetic world
made of glass
we cut our bodies
scourge bleed
mind outpacing mass
we dont lob grenades
maim , decapitate or
other communities harass
on other peoples privacy of thought
we dont tresspass
so let us do what we do
stop behaving like a jackass
yes it is hussainiyat that
as wealth of our spirituality
we amass ..
did it not spread eagle yazidiyat
a momentary abberation so crass
with our curses on the enemies
of janabe fatima
we will surpass
it is not just a sectarian difference
its an ideology impasse

May 30th, 2007

Shahadat E Bibi Fatima

Janatul Baqi Google Images

I write about Shia women, the fountain head of our Faith, the beacon of light of our Faith.
They only they are the powerhouse of our impregnable Faith.
Without Shia women there is no Shiasm.Shiasm is alive as Shia women as Mothers , bring forth Faith , faith as a newborn child, who will become the father of Man.
For me no Mullahdom, no monument man made is greater than the contribution of the Shia mother.She is the embodiment of a single drop of tear that fell from the eye of Bibi Fatima, yes our race is born through a drop of a tear, a mothers tear to a Shia mother, a pledge between Bibi Fatima and her Shia women to keep the flame of Shiasm alive.

Yes I touch a Shia mothers feet,beneath it lies Paradise.Call me a Heretic, I will reply yes I am a Shia.
It is Bibi Fatima the unfortunat mother , who worked, labored on the grinding stone to wean her children Hassan and Hussain, wife of Hazrat Ali, daughter of the Holy Prophet.
This erstwhile mother worked on the grinding stone, this lady devout, humble, the daughter of the richest woman on the Arabian Pnninsular Bibi Khadija.
She suffered on the passing away of the Messenger of God, deprived of her personal inheritance, ill treated by a political Islam, she stood her ground.Already aware of the hardships to come, hardships on her children, on Islam.But she led from the front, it is her values, that she instilled in her children, that saved Islam from Islam.
Martyrdom is an inalienable spiritual right of Inheritance..
Karbala was the battleground of Faith that stood against a powerful Yazidi force, each one slaughtered, Arab cruelty at its worst, death you would not wish for your worst nemy , such a death was meted out to the kith and kin of the Holy Prophet , this is not a melodrama or Majlis rhetoric, this is Truth, that for 1400 years the people have ignored chosen to erase Karbala…but Karbala is imprinted on every Shia heart..The Shia mother is the soul of our Shiasm who keeps our faith alive.Maksade Fatima for a Maksade Hussain.
It is Azadari E Hussain , that is a Shia mothers Motherhood that she passes onto us her children..yes I am crying this is in rememberance of my dead Mother , she made me a better Shia than a Shia hardliner.

Shah ast Hussain, Baad Shah ast Hussain,
Deen ast Hussain, Deen Panah ast Hussain,
Sar dad na daad dast, dar daste Yazeed,
Haqqah ke binaaye La Ilaha ast Hussain!

Tomorrow is th eve of the Martyrdom of Bibi Fatima..
Wife and my daughter, my daughter in law have been attending 5 days ladies majlis at Shia Mehfil at Bandra Bazar Road.

Third Infallible Fatima (SA), daughter of the Holy Prophet (SAW)

The Prophet of Islam had only one daughter named Fatima. Her mother Khadija had two other daughters from her two earlier marriages. When The Prophet married her, both daughters came with her mother to live in the house of the Prophet. Hazrat Fatima (SA) was born five years after Besath (Declaration of Prophet hood) when Muhammad (SAW) was about 45 years old and her mother Khadija was about 55 years old. The Date of her birth was 20th Jumada al-Akhar. She has many following titles.

Al-Siddiqah (The Honest One)
Al-Mubarakah (The Blessed One)
At-Taherah (The Virtuous)
Az-Zakiyah (The Chaste)
Ar-Radhiah (The Satisfied or Gratified One)
Al-Mardhiah (Who well-pleases Allah)
Az-Zahra (The Splendid One/ Lady of Light)
Al-Batoul (The Chaste and Pure One)
Al-Adhra (The Virgin or the Chaste)
Al-Muhaddathah (Who spoken by Angels)
Syedatun Nisa al-Alamin (Leader of the women of the worlds)
After the death of her mother Khadija, she looked after her father the Prophet of Islam so devoutly that Muhammad (SAW) used to call her “Umm-e-Abiha”, i.e. the mother her father. This was the hardest time for the family because in the same year Abu Talib who was the protector of Muhammad (SAW) from the animosity of the Quraish also died in the same year as Khadija. Muhammad (SAW) married Umm-e-Salama, an old widow after the death of Khadija to have someone to look after the household chores. When Umm-e-Salama was requested to tutor the child Fatima (SA), the wise woman replied “How can I tutor one who is the personification of high virtues and purity. It is I who should learn from her.” Her childhood, therefore, was passed in a very chaste and modest environment. It was then that she saw her revered father preaching Islam in the most hostile atmosphere. The hostility of the Quraish after the death of Abu Talib and Khadija was the strongest. Fatima saw and dressed the wounds sustained by her father due to the stones thrown on him by the non-believers. She might have heard and seen that certain wretched women hurled rubbish on her noble father. She might have learnt of the plans made to put an end to her father’s life. But from all these things Fatima was neither frightened nor disheartened. She comforted her father, tended to his wounds even at that tender age. The entire family was blanketed with clouds of sorrowful gas a result of the almost daily humiliation and mockery to which her most revered father was subjected.


When the migration took place, Fatima was left in Makka with the rest of the family which included her step mother Umm-e-Salama, Ali’s (AS) mother Fatima binte Asad and many others. Ali (AS) was in charge of the family. He stayed in Makka for another 3 days to give back the deposits to the Makkans who entrusted these to the Prophet for safe keeping. After fulfilling this duty Ali (AS) brought the family to Madina.


After one years stay in Madina when Fatima(SA) was about 10 years old that proposals for marriage began to be received by the Prophet who politely refused to accept by simply saying that it is in the hands of Allah, that he was awaiting Allah’s decree in this matter.

Fatima (SA) was the model of Prophet’s teaching among women just as Ali (AS) was the best embodiment of his instructions and manly qualities among men. They were the most suitable couple to be married. But Ali (AS) was too modest to speak about it. After some persuasion from friends he finally went to see the Prophet in the mosque and proposed for marriage. Prophet told Fatima about it and asked her whether she would approve. After receiving her consent the marriage of Fatima (SA) and Ali (AS) took place in the simplest possible manner. Ali (AS) sold his shield of amour for 200 Dirhams, brought the money to the Holy Prophet (SAW) who added a similar amount and asked his companions to buy household goods to set up home for the Holy Family. Marriage was solemnized by the Prophet himself and after marriage the couple went to live in a separate house next to the House of the Prophet around the Mosque.


Hassan (AS) was born in the 3rd year of Hijra, Hussain (AS) was born in the 4th year of Hijra, Zainab was born in the 6th year of Hijra, Umm-e-Kulsoom was born in the 7th year of Hijra.

It was in the same house that the famous Verse of Purification (Sura 33.Verse 33) was revealed on the Holy Prophet and its narration by Fatima has become so famous that it is read in every Muslim house as Hadith-e-Kisa. The Reading of this Hadith brings blessings to the household. (Tafseer-e-Kabir by Al-Razi)

It was in the same house where this blessed family fasted for three days continuously without eating any food giving away their Iftari to a beggar, an orphan and a prisoner who arrived at their door and asked for food. The Verse in Sura Dahr revealed in praise of their extremely charitable act in the way of Allah.

It was in the same house where every morning the Holy Prophet stood outside and said loudly “Assalamo Alaikum Ya Ahlebaitin Nubuwwah” Peace and blessings on the people of the Household of the Nabi.

There was so much respect in the heart of the Holy Prophet for Fatima (SA) that whenever Fatima (SA) arrived in the mosque of the Prophet, the Holy Prophet (SAW) stood up to respect her. This gesture was also to show the companions respect for women generally which was lacking in the Arabian society of the day.

These acts of the Prophet (SAW) were to show the companions that this house and its occupants have a special place in the way of Allah and that this status should be maintained after the death of the Prophet (SAW). Unfortunately this was not done as the Holy Prophet (SAW) intended his companions to do. History tells us some very sad moments connected with this house.

After the death of the Prophet when Ali (AS) did not come out to give his oath of allegiance to Abu Bakr, the door of the house was burnt down to get him out and in the process Fatima (SA) was injured. Her 5th unborn child (Mohsin) died because of this harsh action of some of the companions and she herself died within 3 months of the death of her Holy Father.

The following lines of poetry show her ordeal after the death of her holy father very clearly.

“After the death of my father my sufferings were so great that if such hardships fell upon days, the days would turn into nights.”

Fatima (SA) was a symbol of womanhood in Islam. How a daughter, a wife and a mother should behave in their ordinary lives. She was devoted to her father, looked after him when he was in distress by the hands of the non-believers of Makka, she was the exemplary wife, queen of her household yet fair to her maid servant Fizza to divide household chores between herself and the maid servant, she was a devout wife and the most loving mother to her children.

There were occasions when there was no food for the family, but she would never complain. Once Ali (AS) went out to do some work to get food for the family but returned empty handed. Fatima asked Ali (AS) what happened to the food. Ali (AS) said that he did earn some money and bought food, but while on his way home he met some poor hungry persons and gave away all the food to them. When the Prophet heard of this situation he brought some food for the family and told them that Ali’s charitable act was of the greatest value in the eyes of Allah.

The whole family was thankful to Allah and there were no complaints against anyone.

She would go to the mosque of the Prophet to participate in the prayers with all the ladies; she would go out in the battlefield to tend the wounded. In the battle of Ohud, when her father was injured she tended him, cleaned his wounds, put some burnt wool on the wounds to stop blood flowing. When the Holy Prophet (SAW) recovered, he thanked her for her great work in the battlefield.

Death of Hazrat Fatima (SA)

On 3rd of the month of Jumada al-Thani Hazrat Fatima (SA) died. This was about 90 days after the death of her Holy Father. Asma binte Umais in the same house to help her household work tells the story of her death in a very moving manner. When the day arrived she prepared food for her children, then she told Asma that she was going to her prayer room. She would say Takbeer loudly at various intervals. When Asma does not hear the sound of Takbeer she should go out to the mosque and tell Hazrat Ali (AS) about the death of his wife. If in the meantime the children come home give them food before telling them about the death of their mother. Hasan and Hussain arrived and Usma brought some food for them. They said they do not eat without their mother and she had to tell the children of the death of their mother. Both entered the prayer room and stayed with her for a while. Hazrat Ali (AS) arrived and prepared for the last rites. When he was giving her last bath he cried loudly. Asma asked the reason and he said he could not bear to see the wound by her side when the door of the house fell on her due to commotion by some of the companions of the Prophet when they all wanted Ali (AS) to come out of the house for the oath of Allegiance to Abu Bakr. After performing the last rites she was taken to the cemetery of Baqi in the darkness of the night for burial as per her wish. Very few family members were present at the burial of the daughter of the Prophet. Some historians say that she was buried in her own house which became part of the Masjid-e-Nabavi during the reign of Umavi Caliph Umar Ibne Abdul Aziz.

May 30th, 2007

Marc De Clercq Bandra Rocks

Marc at My Shop Dressed like Me.

Marc De Clercq is a Belgian photographer, who has done his Masters in Photography from Ghent Belgium.
We met through cyberspace , Marc wanted to have details of the Koondathavar Koovagam Hijda festival, so we interacted through email, besides we both are friends of Laxmi Narayan Tripathi, the Metrosexual Hijda Beauty Queen from Mumbai.
Any way Marc came down South, but his Hassleblad camera equipment was stolen in the bus at Pondicherry before proceeding to Vilupuram on the way to Koovagam.

The Aghoris Dead Flesh Eating Sadhus

I am perhaps by default a malang, or maybe a naga sadhu or also a Hijda , the last is a thought that worries my daughter Samiya no end, she is on My Space and Orkut , is new to blogging, she tells me to stop writing eunuch poetry , as her friends are quite confused about me , I am a tourist attraction for her college friends all doing Media at Rizvi College Bandra.

They read my blogs also come here to take tips regarding photography some of her friends I think are better visualisers than me , recently there was a project they had on various human emotions, one of them was envy , they wanted an idea I gave them a tame one, a hand in a cookie jar , but the guy was a step ahead of me , he and his friend dropped a RS 5 coin in human shit he took only the shot of a the hand going to extricate it .. this is sheer mind over matter some are born talented, some have talent thrust on them..

My Naga Sadhu Guru Vijay Giri Maharaj of Junagadh akhada recites the Holy Koranic verses, lives on a hillock at Film City , we met at the Nasik Kumbh I have shot him and his mates doing the Ling Kriya , pictures on my Hindu ethos home site.

The aghoris I met in Lucknow on the banks of the crematorium grounds on the Gomti banks , respected me on condition that I dont shoot them, but eat and drink with them,I politely refused.

Something on the Aghoris from the net..



Aghori ascetics, while being devotees of the Hindu god Shiva, are monists who adhere to the common Hindu belief in liberation (moksha) from the cycle of reincarnation (samsara). This liberation is a realisation of the self’s identity with the absolute. Because of this monistic doctrine, the Aghoris maintain that all opposites are identical and the conventional Hindu distinctions between purity and impurity are ultimately illusory.
The Aghoris are ascetics living in cremation grounds, smearing themselves with the ashes of corpses and eating from a cranial begging bowl. They are attributed with eating corpse flesh, which may be a once in a lifetime ritual act, and meditating seated upon a corpse and thereby gaining control over the corpse’s spirit. They have also been accused of practising human sacrifice. The Aghoris claim to perform a secret Tantric ritual involving sex with a lower caste, menstruating woman during which the Aghori becomes Shiva and his partner Shiva’s female energy or shakti (see Tantrism).The purpose of embracing pollution in these practices is realisation of non-duality through transcending social taboos and seeing the illusory nature of all conventional categories.


Although akin to the Kapalika ascetics of medieval Kashmir, with whom there may be a historical connection, the Aghoris trace their origin to Kina Ram, an ascetic who is said to have lived to 150 years during the second half of the eighteenth century. Kina Ram is thought to have been an incarnation of the Hindu god Shiva, as have been each of Kina Ram’s successors. Necrophagy, the eating of corpse flesh, is attested to by a sixteenth century Persian source and in nineteenth century British accounts.


The Aghori ascetic is himself a symbol of the god Shiva. He goes naked or is dressed in the shroud of a corpse, he covers himself in the ashes of the cremation ground, which would be polluting for an orthodox Brahmin, and his, sometimes macabre, ritual actions are symbols of his non-dualistic beliefs. The corpse upon which he meditates is a symbol of his own body and the corpse devouring ritual is a symbol of the transcendence of his lower self and a realisation of the greater, all pervading self .


No official figures are available. At the end of the nineteenth century there were an estimated two or three hundred Aghori ascetics in Varanasi, though now there are perhaps as few as twenty living in their main centre. The Aghoris do, however, have quite a large lay following and devotees from the Indian middle classes.

Main Centre

The main centre of the Aghoris is Kina Ram’s hermitage or ashram in Varanasi. Here Kina Ram is buried in a tomb or samadh which is a centre of pilgrimage for Aghoris and Aghori devotees. Apart from this, any cremation ground would be a holy place for an Aghori ascetic.

The gruesome Aghoris of India are said to have been given human flesh to eat at their initiations. This was generally choice pieces filched from the cremation ground rather than specially cooked morsels. Shrl Ramakrishna, the Bengall Saint, is said to have undertaken a similar initiation but shrank from actually eating the human titbit. He satisfied the initiation rites by tasting it with the tongue. The Aghoris took this meat to prove to themselves and others that the concept of opposites–good and bad, nice and unpleasant (also mentioned in the Bhagavad Gita) — only existed in the mind. The Lord Shiva is also known by the name Aghora and meaning that there is nothing really horrible, or can be in a world supported by delusion.

Posted on 05/04/2006 6:59 AM