Sunday, November 29, 2009

You Telecom Sucks

My perfect Sunday has been ruined thanks to you telecom my server provider - some body has cut all the internet wires in our area so the net has been dead since several hours I am now at a cyber cafe...I had Idd pictures to post now not possible..take care the silence of this lamb.

The net wires were cut from a building as they had not taken the requisite permission from the person concerned..


my poem of pain as I begin it at a cybercafe on Hill Road

you telecom sucks
more connections
adding to the coffers
making more and more
prosperity big bucks
for old existing clients
like me they care two fucks
as they had not taken permission
from a building all their net wires
were cut
this how business of making money
works
instead of them
a kick on my multi colored
conceited buttock
a blogger silence of this lamb
dumbstruck
a barefeeet blogger of mumbai
friend of the hijras
aravanis and eunuch
a pedestrian poet lame duck
free for all blogs
on cyberspace running amok
bollywoods most haunted blogger
bad luck

The Bawas of Mumbai

Okay let me make this simple for you all those dressed like him and me are known as Bawas .. mendicants souls you will find at Dargahs ..or behind the Dargahs at the Dhuni the Holy Fire .. smoking away .I dont smoke or drink.. its totally photography which can be injurious to your wife's health.. photo blogging the next stage is coming closer to the Family Court at Bandra East for the final papers ..Luckily I have been saved the ignominy of the Family Court ..

December will see the season of Urus starting with the Mother of all in Mumbai - The Maqdoom Shah Babas Urus at Mahim.. a great place for pictures even if you stand on the streets and shoot the sandals on the main day.

.I am a well known face barefeet so you will find me sitting with the Bawas, but than I give all the offerings that is given to me to the head guy.. most of the older women touch my feet pay me alms and seek my blessings this is India the land of Love in spite of political disillusionment..

I have received invitations from Senior Inspector Liaqat Shaikh of the Urus committee. I shot the sandal of the Mahim police last year , where the head honchos place flowers on the tomb of the Holy Saint..

Only after the cops have made the offerings others can proceed..

Urus time for me is bonding with the Bawas , most of the ones I knew have passed away but the legendary ones are Hassan Ganda, Farukh, Shahenshah Baba..and I have not taken Marziya here ..

As it is wife was complaining just te other day , every time Marziya sees an elephant on the streets she starts shouting Ganpati , Marziya has seen more Ganesha pandals than elephants , Marziya has not yet seen the Mumbai zoo..luckily she has not missed much..the animals outside the cages are the wort specimens..

I digress Urus is the time at Mahim of celebrations, and Sakibs sandal where Firoze Rafaee does crazy feats I always shoot..than if you get out of the main dargah and go towards the Mahim beach you will find the Holy Shrine of Baba Khizar.. the salt water had turned sweet here ..you will find crazy malangs too .. dont miss it..

The security at the Dargah has been revamped and most people hate cameras and photographers beats me..

After the Urus of Makhdoom Shah Baba gets over begins the other famous one of Fakhruddin Shah Baba a three day affair ..there is a Dhuni here too..

And there are other Urus too but the most sensational is the one up the Malangad mountain the Haji Malang Urus..I have no words for this one just see my pictures at Flickr..

Back To The Future

This was the first shot and the child turned her back, and the irony is that though they beg they are filled with shame and begging is fine but most of the Kashmiri men beg along with their teen daughters which hurts but than the Muslim pocket can be miserly and needs a provocation of guilt..nobody would want their children to beg..

I dont stalk or search for pictures god gives them to me in my cameras beggar bowl, all this was shot yesterday ..I missed the Hijra beggars who come to beg for meat and money..

Even the Namaz at the Bandra Station road was not as crowded as Ramzan,. I was quite late but yes I got something ..

I shot Senior Inspector Prakash George at the traffic signal..

And I shot beggar women veiled in desperation searching for hope in the crowds ..after the Namaz got over, while the media photographers were trying to manipulate the picture frames with kids hugging for the Idd picture ..the same kids year after year, the kids have grown up but the photo journalists of Amchi Mumbai are stuck in a fucked rut,...one way street no way out.. and I am not talking about all of them..

More than a metal camera body you need a human heart and a soul.. you need the gift of poetry.. not in words but in fleeting images as you steal and capture them for the rest of posterity..our first instruction manual in photography has been newspaper photographs.. and sadly to say..nothing has changed .. its the same taking the masses for granted..dumping garbage instead of pictorial wisdom...

Cry My Beloved Kashmir

begging on the streets of mumbai
on bakra idd ..hope an illusion
hungry stomachs open mouths to feed
back home tears robbed by greed
they all pass by but let the victim bleed
the innocent paying for another mans misdeed
through my camera lens I shot
humanity beyond color caste or creed

Sleepless on Facebook

a net savvy god
hitting the keys rapidly
if you take a second look
a shudder his kingdom shook
this world gone to seed
they all like the author
but none want to read his book
despair that hope mistook

From Falna With Love

From Falna With Love

01,813 items / 662,630 views

This was shot a day before Idd in a tiny dreamless alley called Haji Noora Lane..from here you exit to Lucky Hotel.. or move towards Bazar Road..

I showcase all what I shoot at Flickr..and my uploader hardly rests in spite of that I have yet to upload the Namaz pictures, I am under no time bound constrain or editorial demands, the pictures in my camera are part of a story I try not to break the rhythm or flow..and I share my stuff..

Idd was a day at home, I did not shoot any more Kurbani pictures only those that I shot at Indira Nagar.. and they are quite a bit..

I did not shoot the slaughter in my building either as Marziya would have tagged along with me..

Death Where Is Thy Sting !


hope at the edge of the butchers knife
some hope brings ...
god has to be appeased above all things
if beggars were horses than dogs would have wings
darkness at dawn...some pictures some links


for me street photography and poetry are are two sides of the same coin..you call him Ishwar I call him God..

Butchers on Bakra Idd

These are Ebus men at work, in a span of a short while they had slaughtered over 20 bakras , meticulously..and I love shooting butchers at work, a very envious task they perform like artistes sculpting a soul in clay..

I have not yet uploaded the Idd Namaz pictures of the Bandra Station Namaz or the pictures I shot of Bakra Kurbani at Indira Nagar Bandra..

Flickr uploaders are very slow and suck too..

Saturday, November 28, 2009

Someone Has To Shoot The Common Man Too

if every new kid on the block
becomes a fashion photographer
a money minting yearning
it is true
someone has to shoot
the common man too
looking into camera
a thought out of the blue
read his eyes read
his expressions anew
dressed as I am
blogger fuck shoes
photographing
the inner soul of man
needs a vision
giving the subject his due
who I am what I am
he simply has no clue

Man


Man, originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1.

within man
a temple
a gutter
you will find
man two eyes
totally blind
more than nature
it is man
who has fucked
mankind
urinating his anger
defecating his hate
a malfunctioning
failed product
god in haste designed
good bad ugly all
within him enshrined
in the end to the worms
or to the fires consigned

The Mad Man of Bandra Hill Road

another name of gods will road
hawkers terrorizing pedestrian road
new structures come up this road
while heritage badly fucked on this road
controlling the traffic the mad man
of hill road
second hand jeans washed recycled
from within a jain temple are sold
bandra police station where failed
dreams of criminals unfold
tata agiary head priest mr vazifdar
a wasted liver but a heart of gold
mobile service providers
are on a war path on this road
I am told
spammers beware call on hold

My Time Has Come I Have To Go

dont shed tears for me bro
my time has come I have to go
metaphoric historic example
of a sacrifice you all know
abraham ismail
father and son duo
god replaced the son with a lamb
godliness a path that leads
to his door
a message of peace
brotherhood and love
you cannot ignore

dedicated
to mr kg maheshwari
my teacher guide mentor

Hum Honge Kamyab Ek Din

Shot while shooting the goats at JJ colony Bandra

Hindi Lyrics:

Honge kaamyaab, honge kaamyaab
hum honge kaamyaab ek din
ho ho mann main hai vishwas
poora hai vishwas
hum honge kaamyaab ek din.

hogi shanti charo aur
hogi shanti charo aur
hogi shanti charo aur ek din
ho ho mann main hai vishwas
poora hai vishwas
hogi shanti charo aur ek din

hum chalenge saath saath
dale haathon main haath
hum chalenge saath saath ek din
ho ho ho mann main hai vishwas
poora hai vishwas
hum chalenge saath saath ek din.

Nahi darr kisi ka aaj
nahi bhay kisi ka aaj
Nahi darr kisi ka aaj ke din
ho ho mann main hai vishwas
poora hai vishwas
nahi darr kisi ka aaj ke din.

Kiss of Death Shooting Pain...

101,587 items / 661,377 views

This morning at about 6.30 am I went with my wife and son to buy the sacrificial goat , from JJ Colony Noorani Mosque lane from our friendly butcher Ebu Bhai..with the cutting that would be done at his place it came to Rs 4200..We normally cut it in the building compound but keeping Marzyas presence in mind and her attachment with goats we avoided it this time..

After reciting the holy verse I cut the goat but I dont think the person who shot from my camera got it right, so Saif my younger son took a shot when I cut the neck of another friends goat.

I came back home showered rushed to Bandra Station , but was late, shot the usual stuff, and shot the photo journalists shooting the poster boys of Bandra and the eventual Idd hugging pictures in great demand as front page on newspapers unduly over rated by Mawari picture stock agencies of Mumbai..

I shot the namaz bae feet , I did not see heaven sent Hijras this time, I cut through Indira Nagar , and shot Marziyas pet goat being slaughtered , he waswith the owner for several years but missed his date with death,,the owner was saddened and also the kids of Bazar Road that have grown with this goat including Marziya..I do not wish to manipulate human emotions through my blog or I could have posted Marziyas picture shot with the pet goat when she was a toddler..I let it pass , this man was my subject for my blog post instead..Is he a Muslim .. no perhaps a Tamil .. I shot his eyes and his nationality got a bit over exposed ... yes he is an Indian on bakra Idd..


I love shooting blood gore and there is much of it, shot today,,,I shot Death as it kissed the goats to sleep...

Idd Mubarak to One and All

As you rush for prayers
when you hear
the muezzins call
bowing to the glory
of god
the small
the mighty and the tall
god who saves you
from every fall
the greatest wonder of all
Idd Mubarak
from wall to wall
allh ho akbar
etched on the soul
of peace hope harmony
the greatest cure - all
mutual coexistence
brotherhood of man
as added windfall

To my friends , friends of friends at Flickr , Facebook Twitter and all over cyver space..from the barefeet blogger of Mumbai...


d-ul-Zuha
Id-ul-Zuha also called Id-ul-Adha in Arabic and Bakr-Id in the Indian subcontinent, because of the tradition of sacrificing a goat or 'bakr' in Urdu. The word 'id' derived from the Arabic 'iwd' means 'festival' and zuha comes from 'uzhaiyya' which translates to 'sacrifice'.


Id ul Zuha
On this day Muslims sacrifice a goat or Bakr (Urdu) to commemorate the sacrifice of Prophet Ibrahim, who willingly agreed to kill his son at the behest of God.

This festival coincides with the Haj pilgrimage in Mecca. Prayers are offered in the mosques and the sacrificial meat is then distributed after the Id prayers.

Special delicacies are prepared and served among family and friends on the occasion

Also called Bakrid, Id-ul-Zuha, is a festival of great rejoice. Special prayers and exchange of greetings and gifts marked the Id-ul-Zuha (Bakrid), the festival of sacrifice, celebrated with traditional fervour and gaiety in India.

Id-ul-Zuha is a reminder of Prophet Ibrahim's readiness to sacrifice his son for God's sake. It also marks the completion of Haj (pilgrimage to Mecca).On this day, special `Dua' is recited by thousands of Muslims for peace and prosperity.The day also coincides with the day when the holy Quran was declared complete.

The festival of Bakrid is a commemoration of Hazrat Ibrahim's great test of obedience to Allah, who ordered him to sacrifice the person dearest to him.

Ibrahim decided to sacrifice his son Ismail, at Mina, near Mecca. As the great religious leader was on the point of applying the sword to the throat of his dear son, it was revealed to him that the exercise was merely a test of his faith in Allah, and that he could sacrifice a ram instead.
Eid ul Zuha
When is Id-ul-Zuha celebrated?

Id-ul-Zuha is celebrated from the tenth to the twelfth day of Zil hijja. Also, Id-ul-Zuha or
Eid al-Adha annually falls on the 10th da y of the month of Dhul Hijja (ذو الحجة) of the lunar Islamic calendar. The festivities last for three days or more depending on the country. Eid al-Adha occurs the day after the pilgrims conducting Hajj, the annual pilgrimage to Mecca in Saudi Arabia byMuslims worldwide, descend from Mount Arafat. It happens to be approximately 70 days after the end of the month of Ramadan.
www.festivalsofindia.in/Id-ul-Zuha/

The Windows of Pain

The Pawn Shop of Lost Dreams

pawned hopes
pawned future
pawned luck
a pawned pendant
a pawned
mangal sutra
screams
the pawn shop
of lost dreams
interest on interest
compound interest
the pawned item
has lost its gleam
an unpaid home loan
aggressively blasphemes
memories
rekindling
a pawned requiem
life is not what it seems

Two Sacrificial Goats

two sacrificial goats
a blogger
a four legged animal
floating in the same boat
peace hope harmony
nothing else to promote
blood sweat and sorrow
as pictorial footnotes
headless hallucinations
that time smote
a bleeding head
during moharam
shooting a
a bleeding throat
a time for sacrifice
on Idd to denote
with a message as
SMS

Churi ko kar tu Taiz itna k har Takbeer sy Pehly , Bakra Churi sy khud Poochay bata meri khata kya hai...

I Quote

Hafiza Bi and Me

This was shot by neil 6 pack, the local poster boy who is the only Catholic volunteer of the BJP Party, and the person next to me in front of her garments hand cart is Hafiza Bi wife of blind Ismail Chacha.
These are two people I have shot extensively as a blogger ..they make up my story board of Bandra Bazar Road.. ordinary people with extraordinary achievements..it is through this cart she educated her kids made them attain their goals, her daughter lives in Manhattan New York and a grandson in UK..

Ismail Chacha and Me

Ismail Chacha is my pictorial model as a photographer and as a model human being.. he is a retired Army man a proud nationalist , his pension he gives away to the poor and the needy..he is the most remarkable loving man of Bandra Bazar Road..His father was a Khansama with the Nizam of Hyderabads family and the family of Jinnah Saab..

He is a Hamdare Konkani Muslim known as Karais..

His wife Hafiza Bi sells ladies and children s garments on a handcart ..there daughter lives in Manhattan New York and a grandson in UK

Ismail Chacha is totally blind but recognizes people by smell..

picture was shot by neil 6 pack..

Life Is Nothing But Body Parts

a kick on the balls
one after the other
they tear us apart
falling in love
with street shadows
life is nothing
but body parts
beneath the cosmetic
curiosity all warts
the pangs lost illusions
of two lovers
who were once sweet hearts
a new one takes her place
when the old one departs
a morgue of memories
waiting for hope
on handcarts

The Story of the Injured Bakra

Now this story of the injured bakra originated at Indira Nagar a slum dwelling but with the rich poor and the ugly all communities living in mutual peace and harmony,I use the narrow winding lanes to reach my new shop , and the kids of this urban clustered jungle stalk me, they want to be shot by me, some dress up in Friday best clothes waiting for me, some pose with goats knowing that even if I shoot the goats they will show up in my pictures, and honestly these kids are much smarter than me and luckily my daughter Samiya has not seen me in this place or she will say I have lost it..I did the day she got married and left me an orphan befriending goats and hijras..

I love this area Indira Nagar , Hafiza Bi, Ismail Chacha whose father worked as a cook with the Nizam of Hyderabad and the erstwhile Jinnah family, Jinnah Saab wanted his father to move to Pakistan, but Ismail Chachas father politely refused.. Jinnah Saab got his father a job with a renowned solicitors family in Bandra.
More on Ismail Chacha and Hafiza Bi on my Flickr blogs , their daughter lives in Manhattan New York and a grandson in UK..

I shot a stray Hijra at Bandra Hill Road but I have yet to add text , he was from the troupe of impostor hijras I shot some time back, he was dead drunk.. and I was with Marziya...so I took two frames.

This kid in the picture is the most notorious in extorting me for pictures ..but I would rather shoot them than shoot flowers insects and the backside of mountains .. I bet Dr Glenn Losack is laughing ..

Street photography is the essence and soul of the godliness of god gone to seed..we shoot and frame it on your comatose consciousness..

The Story of the Injured Bakra

This is what remains of the bakra before Bakra Idd, he was a partner of the two that were bought for Rs 45000, but he hurt himself , so the family had him slaughtered before Bakra Idd that is tomorrow..a damaged or injured animal cannot be used for the Idd sacrifice.. the butcher was called in and the bakra wont be used for kurbani ..I was on my way to work and shot this picture , I shot a lot of bakras goats at the makeshift JJ Market , Jamate Jamooriya Bandra.. I love goats brave animals unafraid of impending fate the only animal that faces death like a fair daffodil..Wordsworthian fatality and impending doom..
Miya kids love moving about with their goats , showing off on the streets of Bandra..
The one Parsi boy who sheds tears is Farzand grandson of yesteryear junior artiste Katy, he has become friendly with the neighboring goats and is sad they will be killed..

As there a lot of goat pictures shot last two days I am adding a set on Flickr ..Goats Bakra Idd Namaz. 2009.I will shoot the Namaz tomorrow barefeet , I dont wear slippers to respect the sanctity and the soul of the nazmaz on the streets..

Raksha Wild Beauty In Bloom

hijdas love to groom
pillow talking
the way to your heart
through the bedroom
raksha wild
beauty in bloom
changing colors
like a chameleon
through each costume
without hijras
this world a morgue
a deathly vacuum
dont waste your time
searching for the hijda tomb
missing vagina castrated chaos
within a missing womb
hijdaeroticness
you need not exhume
hijda a testicular tragedy
a missing heirloom
mesmerizing headiness
muskiness of her body perfume
rain drenched emotions
playing foul in her bathroom

its true I shoot Hijras poetically in all humility I assume

Friday, November 27, 2009

On Death Row

tomorrow
gushing from his neck
red blood will flow
gurgling down
the gutter flow
he will be slaughtered
without a blow
kids watching this
all aglow
the silence of the lamb
although
the kasais tomorrow
will make a lot of dough
running from
one building
to another
to and fro
feast of feast
for the vultures
vermin and crow
some will
slaughter 6 bakras
each costing
25 thousand
we all know
or a camel or a dumba
money is the core
but to the poor muslim
beggar woman
it is only a few coins
they will throw
flip side of a festivity
you dont need
to read more

Thursday, November 26, 2009

Politics Going to The Dogs

a parliament of fools
giving birth to frogs
the newspaper
dies the next morning
long live its soul
in a blog
democracy
politics going
to the dogs
on the banks
of despair
the poor mans body
burning on the logs

The Living Dead of Lucknow

a luck badly fucked and how

Leaving Mumbai Without Love

if he was a terrorist
if he was a foreigner
he could bear
the treatment
that he got
in a political game
muscle flexing politics
he was caught
cursing his bhaiyya lot
going back empty handed
to his hometown
in uttar pradesh to rot
ajmal kasab
treated with kid gloves
for the innocent people
he shot
a twist in the story
a filmi plot
all those 'who died
the fucked system says
so what?
its there destiny
they got
what they got
but till the end
bravely they fought
posthumously awarded
as an after thought

Masjid and The Cow

two facets
of a religiosity
in Lucknow
both
respectively
part
of an Indian bough
faith that moves
mountains somehow
the Muslim prays within
the Hindu to a Holy Cow
kowtow
each in his own way
a spiritual field ploughs

Sarlabai..travelling beggar lady

first
it was lalujee
now mamtaji
they all come and go
as she ticketless begs
from one train to another
to and fro
as the caravan of life
from one station to another
overflows
in her eyes
the pain of living shows
caught on the canvas
of a photoblogger it froze
walking the tightrope
of old age on her tiny toes
waiting for the maker
her life's account close
the last journey
the ultimate repose

dedicated to nabina das

Barefeet Blogger from Mumbai in Lucknow

Shooting The Soul of a Street Photographer

do you need a camera
to shoot the soul
of a street photographer
I ask
from the viewfinder
of his mind
he took my
entire life's mission
to task
a vintage wine
facing a new flask
pictures that
as a poet
the reader
must unmask

Muslim Man


Muslim Man, originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1.

with my camera
the life of a muslim man
i tried to pan
a blur my pictorial mind
could not scan
an indian muslim
so very different
from the afghan
a single religiosity
fragmented
as particles
in a dust pan
all held
together by the power
of allah
ahle bayt and the koran

Searching for Virgins in Paradise

poor muslim
beggar woman
from the perdition
of her fate
none can save
born in captivity
a human slave
for self respect
dignity she does crave
to add to her shame
a few coins is what
they gave
the jehadis
kill bomb
on a rampage
a pin drop silence
no shock waves
the jehadis
searching
for virgins in paradise
while she searches
for her unmarked grave
a drop of a tear
on the soul of humanity
as a good Muslim
her oppressors
she forgave
even a coward
was gifted
with the soul
of the brave
as it lashes
the consciousness
wave after wave

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

The School Rickshah of Nakhas

chilly winter mornings
but never late for class
heavy traffic at akbari gate
but they all let him pass
the school rickshah of nakhas
memories solidified as pictures alas
lucknow is lucknow
cannot be recreated en masse
sadly it is no more what it was

to mr pc little a giant of a man..

In a State Where They Build Statues

shot in Lucknow

devastating the soul of humanity
the poor the down trodden
they abuse
politicians dead and alive with
the taxpayers money
build statues
the resident of this state
in Maharashtra
gets beaten black and blue
here it is sunni v/s shias
muslims v/s hindus
decadence of human life
no values no truce
politicians powers misuse
the common man from despair
even god cant rescue
man here treated
worse than a monkey
in a zoo
rahul gandhi
the new messiah of hope
they look up to
his humility
his strength
his virtue
faith
peace
progress
infuse
son of the soil
some good news

Fragmented Words of Pain

hidden from you eyes
is her face etched
in despair
no cosmetic surgery
will repair
wrinkles warts
no with you
she wont share
the ignominy
of her wretched
womanhood
she wont bare
she knows
heart to heart
you dont care
a photo blogger
brings to the shores
of your computer
pedestrian poetry
a new software
shot in Lucknow
could be shot elsewhere
nothing but fragmented
words as genius to declare

The Masked Warriors of Pain

shot at Lucknow near gufra map imambada

so much sorrow
no sorrow
like ghame hussain
on a battlefield of life
masked warriors of pain
from time memorial
fighting for freedom
from spiritually
dogmatic
male dominated
chains
the jehad for a better life
covered in blood stain
a religiosity of peace
hijacked
by a hateful campaign
brotherhood
gone down the drain
wa waila
sad wa waila
ya hussain

Another Brick In The Wall

shot at lucknow


near gufra map iimam bada
a deathly doom and pall
a muslim beggar woman
another brick in the wall
living her death
to the grave she will crawl
but unfortunately
gufra map cemetery is not
for beggars or common
people at all
rubbing shoulder to shoulder
the mighty and the tall
even those sacred souls
who once recited majlis
in this hall
on her hidden face
her future
that time as an epitaph
has scrawled
a few washed out
metal coins
like her washed out destiny
as her life's windfall
sepulchral sorrow
rise of her downfall

Muslim Women Wordless Poetry

shot at Lucknow

near gufra map
imambada she sits
the maulanas pass her by
as they rush for majlis
in their spiritual outfits
the poor muslim woman
at the mercy
of a compassionless
world is what hits
victims or just misfits
in a world run by bandits
a few coins on her face
they miserly spit
her fate as a born beggar
she cannot outwit

updated as a poem on 24 Nov 2009

Empty Vessels Make The Most Noise

shot at Lucknow

within the soul of silence
you can hear his voice
but his message distorted
from the minarets of hate
as one sect another sect
destroys
bigotry hateful means employs
Muslims love killing Muslims
while the enemies of Peace
and Brotherhood
rejoice
bearded behemoth
empty vessels
make the most noise
a killing for the media
boot licking newsboys
petro powered pimps
of spirituality in brand
new Rolls Royce
turbaned heads
masked faces
as envoys
using human bombs
as evil
hate filled toys

updated 24 Nov 2009

Zuljana


Zuljana, originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1.

Zuljana The Steed of Imam Hussain


en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zuljanah

Dhuljanah (Arabic: ذو الجناح‎) was the horse of Husayn ibn Ali. The original name of Zuljanah was Murtajiz and he was purchased by Muhammad from an Arab named Haris. It features prominently in the traditional retelling of the story of the Battle of Karbala. It is thought to have been a white stallion. According to the legend, when Husayn was a mere child and learning to crawl, he used to go frequently to the stable of Zuljanah and look at him. Once Muhammad said that his grandson was looking curiously at the horse as if some mysterious conversation was taking place, so he asked the child if he wished to ride the horse. On being answered that he did, Muhammad ordered the horse saddled. When Husayn approached the horse, however, the horse suddenly lowered itself to the ground to allow the boy to mount him. In the battle of Karbala, Husayn used this horse and went to the battle field. According to Shia's belief, Zuljana killed 31 enemies of Husayn. After the death of Husayn, Zuljana went to the camps of Bibi Zainab and then he jumped into the Furat lake over the sorrow of Hussayn's death.

From the Fire into the frying pan

This was shot many years back close to Maulana Kalbe Jawad Saabs house at Mandi Lucknow , a Maulana highly respected and revered by the Shias of Lucknow, I did visit the Maulana once with my photographer friend Guddu, I told the Maulana that it was his father the late Kalbe Abid Saab who had read my Nikah held in Lucknow on 26 November 1977..and I felt in retrospection that it was the blessings of his erstwhile father that had kept my marriage intact in spite of the upheavals and vagaries of my marital life.,.

However a certain incident changed the equation with the city of my birth Lucknow and I decided never to visit it ever again.

These are blogs that were blank I am updating today in memory of 26/11

Memories of Lucknow may never go away, as I was bought up by my maternal grand mother Nazmi Begum who was the wife of poet Daroga Nabban Saab descendant of poet Mir Anis.

They lived at Imliwali Gali Pata Nala that was predominantly Shia and on the fringes of this locality was Subatiya Bagh a Sunni locality , this place had a lot of skirmishes and sectarian fights between both the communities, and strangely I was connected to Subatiya Bagh too, as my Paternal grand fathers relatives stayed here, my paternal grand father a Sunni by birth, Bashir Hussain had accepted Shia Islam after he married my Shia grandmother Khurshed Begum..from Vazir Ganj .

My father too continued as a Shia..and both he and his father left all contacts with the main family that were wealthy vinegar merchants. I did meet this family when I was a child briefly..but I have no contacts with them either.


Daroga Nabban Saab poet lies buried in an unmarked grave at Gufra Map Imambada Lucknow.

My paternal grand father and his wife I am told are buried at Talkotara Lucknow.

My maternal grand mother Nazmi Begum died she too lies in an unmarked grave at Rani Malka Jahan cemetery .

My parents both migrants Mumbaikars, Mohomed Shakir and Shamim Shakir of Colaba lie buried side by side at Rehmatabad Shia cemetery Mumbai.

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

Whats Her Story God Alone Knows !

101,237 items / 655,116 views

horrible ugly so very gross
her eyes always open
socket less wont close
beggar photography
humanly woes
she sits each morning
at boran road
where traffic
to and from
bandra bazar road
overflows
shot once by an American
including this blogger firoze
she has two kids
through begging
educated
read life's prose
their shadows
on her life as
on our lives grow
while seeing me shooting her
some raise their eyebrows
through a bleeding blog
to show you
the underbelly
of deprivation
a path I chose
pedestrian poetry
molten tears
burning the petals
the insides of a rose

26/11 My Tryst With Destiny

This is an old picture of me and my wife at my earlier shop..we were married in Lucknow on 26 November 1977 .It was an arranged marriage and my mother was instrumental in this match.. incidentally I used to carry my wife in my arms when she was a toddler..yes I cradle snatched my fate.. before it was too late ..searching for a woman I found a soul mate..sometimes a morsel is manna on a beggars plate ...

Marziya Turns 2

marziya turns two
thanks all of you
7000 pictures
through
which she grew
from the second
day of her life
it is true
her godfather
a Brooklyn
born
American Jew
her grand father
her only Guru
a Shia Pandit Muslim-Hindu
a barefeet blogger
like a fly in a Hijda stew
a pedestrian poet
pictorial haiku
living
in a glass house
with doors
made of bamboo
welcome all
merci beaucoup
sartorial soliloquy
fleshed to poetry
through and through
mutually coexisting
in a land of his cultural
inheritance of
brahma mahadev vishnu

Marziya's Second Birthday

101,153 items / 654,677 view

This evening there was a small get together for Marziya's second birthday , her birthday is tomorrow but we celebrated it today.

Monday, November 23, 2009

In Praise of Ravan..

Muslims Love Killing Muslims

photo courtesy
google images

"Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that." - Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr.

violence cannot drive out the violence same as the darkness cannot drive out the darkness...ashfaque waleed


hate begets hate
more hate transmit
so be it
in our hearts our soul
a candle of brotherhood
through scriptures
good thoughts
good deeds
he lit
to Allah's will
he made us submit
but his message
distorted bit by bit
Muslims kill Muslims
sectarian split
suicide bombers
jehaddis
that throats slit
like eunuchs
we watch
as one the other
outwits
this ongoing skit
throwing peace
in a snakes pit

to nauman to wit

as the rogue mullah
gives
the jehaddis
a clean chit
man kills man
god gets hit
misplaced martyrdom
wont say quit

God Found Gambhir Singh And The Manipuris Found Me Coincidentally

posted at FB I have been approached by BBC CNN all Indian media friends well-wishers from all over the world but not a single med...