Friday, April 30, 2010

The Human Child Lives on a Debris

he was ordained thus
the destiny of child
enslaved to misery
the human child
lives on a debris
false values
false hopes
from the cradle
to the grave
never free
his soul
his body
in the darkness
of the night
he thus spoke
to me
the soul
of my poetry

to a facebook friend
a very silent one

Has She Lived Her Life To The Full

she begs from
one shop to another
her life painful
a few coins
on the face
of her disparity
all bull
death dodges her
death artful
outside gods
a board

God Made Him Like A Camera

god made him
like a camera
but forgot
to give
him lens
a dark box
of suspense
devoid of vision
only sixth sense
his inner being
god did cleanse
a bit of hope
within his darkness
as his defense
he is what he is
without pretense
he sees nothing
his path is dark
dingy and dense
a broken down fence
a few coins
to recompense
i found
people with eyes
more blind
more bigoted
more full of hate
full of nonsense
living life of a fraud
at another mans

to michel portier
my facebook friend

God Made Him Like A Camera

god made him
like a camera
but forgot
to give
him lens
a dark box
of suspense
devoid of vision
only sixth sense
his inner being
god did cleanse
a bit of hope
within his darkness
as his defense
he is what he is
without pretense
he sees nothing
his path is dark
dingy and dense
a broken down fence
a few coins
to recompense
i found
people with eyes
more blind
more bigoted
more full of hate
full of nonsense
living life of a fraud
at another mans

to michel portier
my facebook friend

The Rival Don

124,764 items / 879,168 views

As soon as Hyder Don had left for the Holy Shrine , the Rival Don made his appearance , and most of the beggar joints near the Dargah lane belong to him ,but at the moment he is keeping his peace,,I shot a few frames just in case..

Window Shopping the Soul of Dreams

Life is An Experience You Learn as You Grow

Two Photographers Without Borders

Makin Love And Not Children

Rajan and Me

Rajan owns Happy Book Stall on Bandra Hill Road I shot a lot of pictures in his shop..I call them the Lost World of Books..

Its been several years since I read a book I shoot the book of life on the streets..

Falling In Love Is Getting Fucked Like This

was cool
the gears
the accelerator
the brakes
the piston
with fuel
the instrumental
but fucked
in love
in a used
car pool
life of a lover
totally cruel
you find
her memories
lost in a whirlpool

Shooting Sharukh Khan on The Streets of Bandra

A Moment In Life Called Street Photography

This is a picture I shot and this is Islam as I see it,without hate malice or infringements on the human soul..these kids are like reservoirs if you instill hate in them , they will learn to hate , if you teach them positive things than they will grow up loving everyone without bias or bigotry.
Does it matter whether they are Sunni kids or Shia kids they are the future of our human race , they are Humanity..a word we have blasphemed in every possible manner.

I liked them I shot them , they never existed in your consciousness before this but now they do, and they wait for me to shoot them and I add them to life as photo blog of peace.

For me this positivity of peace is street photography , I dont search for pictures I dont shoot pictures I shoot life as I see it on the viewfinder of my Soul..

And if I am ever hit by a running car you can be sure the Nikon D 80 will be with me ready to accompany in the next world..I am sure for me the gift of a camera woud be a blessing than ogling at nubile virgins in Hell..I dont believe in Heaven for the time being.. and when I tell this to my Shia wife and my new American girlfriend they both say Go To Hell.

Photographers Without Borders

3 Fucked Idiots

They have been gang raped By Bad Times..

The Chase Begins.....

I dont know his name but he his Hyder Dons best friend and side kick, he is fond of my grand daughter , actually they say he and his wife and child were crossing the railway tracks when tragedy struck , he lost both wife and daughter and his legs too..

The new Don has taken him under his protection , and he is an informer too keeping the Don aware of the rumors in his fiefdom..

Last night the New Don called me he had booked the entire hall for his friends and cronies , they want to support Aditya Raj Kapoor and make Chase a great hit..

The new Don called Aditya Raj Kapoor personally and assured him of the films success .and actually the New Dons father a yester year junior artist has worked in several films of Adityas dad Shammi Kapoor Saab the original Yahoo Man.

Yes the Chase begins in a few hours from now ...and I also wish Aditya the very best ...

Shooting the Panwala of Bandra

Shooting The Soul Of a Barefeet Blogger of Bandra

Reza Masoudi Nejad is an architect and urban morphologist who has graduated in MSc. of architecture at University of Tehran in 1996, then he graduated in MSc of Built Environment, Advanced Architectural Studies - focused on Space Syntax theory- at the Bartlett, UCL, University of London in 2003.
Reza has recently completed his PhD at DPU, the Bartlett under supervising of Michael Safier. He mainly focuses on interaction between urban society and spaces, and the spatial organization of rituals in urban spaces.

Shooting The Soul Of a Barefeet Blogger of Bandra

Reza Masoudi Nejad is an architect and urban morphologist who has graduated in MSc. of architecture at University of Tehran in 1996, then he graduated in MSc of Built Environment, Advanced Architectural Studies - focused on Space Syntax theory- at the Bartlett, UCL, University of London in 2003.
Reza has recently completed his PhD at DPU, the Bartlett under supervising of Michael Safier. He mainly focuses on interaction between urban society and spaces, and the spatial organization of rituals in urban spaces.

Dr Reza Masoudi at Lucky Hotel

Dr Reza Masoudi is a good friend a versatile photographer who documents Moharam, and is a street photographer too.

He has shot Moharam in Lucknow and in Mumbai.

He shot the Ashura in Mumbai when I was away shooting the Ashura in Hyderabad , and I put him on to Habib Nasser to guide him and help him with his pictorial thesis.

I got a call on my cell , he had come back to Mumbai and wanted me to share lunch with him at Lucky Hotel, he was very happy to see me , he gave me a gift an after shave that I reluctantly took, he missed Marziya and wanted to give her a gift , but Marziya was at home and Dr Reza was in great rush , he wanted to buy some books , I took him to my friend Rajans bookstore on Bandra Hill Road ,Happy Book Stall.,.once when I was younger I bought all my books here or at Strand Book House or the roadside of Flora Fountain.

From the bookstore we split and Dr Reza was walking it to Mahim , the Holy Shrine of Makhdoom Shah Baba I was too tired to accompany him , and I was amazed how he bore the Mumbai scorching heat and humidity..

This is a small set at Flickr I dedicate to his wife and wish them both the very best for the future..

The Lucky Hotel guys are very happy with Dr Reza Masoudis interest in the Iranian migrant community of Mumbai and their ancestry their traditions living in Mumbai.

And I am happy that photographers who have seen my work online connect to me and I go out of my way to help them ,and it is an honor as they are shooting the ethos of my country.I am sure they will showcase it beautifully.

So I am highly hospitable to photographers I learn from them too..I am also expecting Marc De Clerc my Belgian photographer soon as he was down South shooting the Koovagam Eunuch festival.

Muslim Society Wears a Hijab Too

124,672 items / 878,579 views

she sits
on a graveyard
her life away
muslim society
wears a hijab
has nothing
much to say
her pain
will surely
go away
a few coins
will change
her destiny
a living
alive today
they will bring
her to be buried
here one day
for the sins
of her parents
she has to pay
as a poet
i shot her pain
a bit of
a poor
is dead
the day
she is born
her hair
turns gray
they who
were in power
did not spare
the favorite daughter
of the holy messenger
what does it
matter anyway
a pain
that is
here to stay
of life
its decay
praying for salvation
praying for redemption
wanting but cant
walk away

The New Don

124,644 items / 878,528 views

The Don that had replaced the Old don , died of food poisoning I am told the beggar mafia was not happy with him , he had made life hell, so I have been told under a strict code of Omerta he was bumped of , they spiked his batata wada with cyanide.,

However the city cant remain without a Don and the unanimous choice of the New Don fell on Hyder Batla , he was going to Makhdoom Shah Babas Dargah to place a Chaddar , his henchmen were in 3 cabs and were watching me cautiously , and I would have been shot dead as I asked Sakib to send them batata wadas in the cab.., they threw out the plates in anger , but luckily Hyder Batla gave them a serious look and we both had firni this time..

I am hoping that Hyder Dada will show some interest in the film project that was stalled , and Hyder Dada gave me some hints , he would like to make conducive changes to the script along with Samiya and Manish he wants Rajiv Soni from Ghaziabad to come on board as creative director, he also wants Aditya Raj Kapoor as main villain..and to give him a signing amount before he hikes his price after the release of Chase.

Even as director he is adamant that we take Rahul Dholakia and would also like Chimpu Chintuji and Randhir Kapoor as rival dons.

Dimpleji will play herself in this new venture ..of Sadak Chap Productions

Wait for more news ..


FACEBOOKED, originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1.

124,643 items / 878,457 views

the world
online is a
satta bazar
a shop window
where human
values 'human dignity
is put up for sale
be it a hijda
homosexual lesbian
male or female
each one has a tag
on his tail
every person
living a fake life
a thumbnail
dressed up
in finery
or minimalistic
each covering
his true identity
under a veil
the internet
a fraudulent
large scale
locked up
pent up frustrations
in a cybernetic jail
once sold at a loss
bought back
on a profit
ready for resale
a book
with a billion
false faces
minus detail

Pain The Language of Hope and Love

124,642 items / 878,380 views

I was at the main lane that leads to the Holy Shrine of Makhdoom Shah before the road crossing known as the Dargah lane I was there visiting my friend Sakib and shot some frames of life around ..

Most of the beggars were surprised as I come here only during Urus time ..

This blind beggar I am told stands from morning to evening and a few beggars were grumbling my taking pictures but not raucously because of Sakib who stays in this lane.

pain is the only language
that is understood by all
no grammar no syntax
no borders no wall
we all feel pain
by and all
rich and poor
big and small
pain has only
god as cure all
to remove pain
hope love
you must install
a programme
that wont crash
or crawl
saving you
from every pitfall
is what makes
you tall

Namaz The Soul of Islam

124,641 items / 878,303 views

2 year old
with her
grand mother
she prays
namaz the soul
of Islam always
her faith as a shia
she displays
reminding you
that head bowed
they sprayed
but he kept
the covenant alive
Islam he saved
around him
the namazis
watched him
being slaughtered
turned their face
Allah ho Akbar
Allah be praised
a grand child that
the Holy Messenger
had raised
bought up under
his beloved
Mothers gaze
Hussain is Humanity
a path of peace
over hearts

har kaum pukaregi hamare hain hussain
Islam Zinda Hota hai Har Karbala ke Bad.

Walking The Path of Peace

124,640 items / 878,275 viewst

the cascading
fate of man
his wealth
his riches
his grandeur
they dont need
healing humanity
their creed
walking on
the path
of lord mahaveera
to him they yield
the protective armor
their faiths shield

Aman Ki Rah

124,639 items / 878,248 views

zameen roti hai
pair jalte hain
aman ki rah
pe wo chalte
ka mantr
woh padte
unki rah
main kate bhi
phool ban kar
khilte hain

The Jain Monk

124,638 items / 878,197 views

Jain Muni or simply Muni is the term often used for Jain monks[1].

A Jain monk does not have a permanent home and does not have any possessions. He wanders barefoot from place to place except for the four months of the rainy season. A Jain monk is not a priest; rather he is himself a worshipped one.

A full Jain monk in either Svetambar or Digambar tradition[2] can belong to one of these ranks:

* Acharya: leader of the order
* Upadhyaya: a learned monk, who both teaches and studies himself
* Muni: an ordinary monk

These three are mentioned is the three lines of the Namokar Mantra.

In the Digambar tradition, a junior monk can be a:

* Ailak: they use one piece of cloth
* Kshullak: they may use two pieces of cloth

White-clothed Acharya Kalaka

The Svetambar Terapanthi sect has a new rank of junior monks who are called samana.

The nuns are called Aryikas in Digambar tradition and Sadhvi in the Svetambar tradition.

Courtesy Wikipedia

This is the first Jain Monk I have shot I ran after him I asked his permission to shoot him but he was in a rush towards the Jain Mandir at Bandra..Jain Mandir Road..

the jain monk
towards a
a path of peace
the material
of life
at ease
his body
his soul
the ultimate
his sufferings
his hardships
the message
lord mahaveera
within him
he carries
trying to
the pain
of the poor
around him
he sees
of the
jain muni

Women In Islam

124,637 items / 878,137 views

I shot this a few days back, and this is a picture I shot as I saw it, I have tweaked the body of the picture but I was helpless with the soul of the poor woman begging outside the door of Allahs house.. this is her destiny , this is her fate , she cannot escape it , not now she is already charged and condemned , she covers her face in a hijab , but pain cannot cover itself , it reveals such is the strength of pain , the inner strength of pain.

And what a day to remember the quintessential pain of the Muslim woman in the Shias celebrate the Martyrdom of Bibi Fatima Zehra the only child of the Holy Prophet of Islam.

Wife of Imam Ali .
Mother of Hassan and Hussain .

And I did not plan to write what I am writing and this is not Shiaspeak, this is a fact of life , and nothing has stopped me shooting it, I shoot pain , the greatest essence of Godliness , pain that goes beyond caste color or creed and connects Man to God and God to man.

People who walk in and out of the Mosque see her too, but than the Will of God the call of the Muezzin is more important than such common scenes seen all over Mumbai outside our religious spaces .

But this one killed me as human being and as a poet who shoots the ongoing drama of life..I am not a Mullah , I do not promote any religion save the religion of self respect towards Motherhood and Womanhood.

Mother is the gate that leads to God., religious place is greater than the essence of Mother and through this unintentional post a part of my passion as street photography I place it at the feet of a Mother , a Mother we all believe in..a Mother a universal reservoir of pain she suffered and her suffering those who cry for her loss are killed in the name of Islam , and they are not just terrorists these are hardcore Islamists who are Namazis and followers of the Faith..I dont believe that Terrorists have no Religion it is misguided religious thought permeated by the rogue Mullah that has made them killers of the human race and yes it is only Muslims that lustfully sado- masochistically love killing Muslims.
And the killings will never stop as we collectively watch in eunuch silence the soul of our religiosity cannibalized by murderers in the name of Allah.. and the leaders around the world dont care a damn as long as they have power and nobody usurps their petrol banana kingdoms..

I am not into diatribe but I thought this introduction was necessary and I have not even thought of what poem I shall write here I leave it to God he guides the mouse I merely click his thoughts..

she is alive
no she is not alive
she is dead
the scabbard bleeds
when rapier sharp
saber cut her head
call it fate destiny
her life is meaningless
as it moves ahead
death is more
easier to handle
than life that
bleeds you red
through her veiled
to my poetry
she added words
her pain
her sufferings
her faith intact
more important
than the cry
of her children
for bread
the holier
than thou
threw a
few coins
into the interior
of Allahs house fled

Thursday, April 29, 2010

Heena Hijra The Queen of Hearts

124,636 items / 877,488 views

no woman can compete her, as shes most gorgeous of them all

now i believe that even god makes mistakes......
she should have been a beautiful lady enjoying the world of femininity ........nevertheless she's one of the most seductive woman i have ever seen....

braving all odds
a crest of hope
she rides
kidnapped by
a mafia don
she refused
to be his bride
she stuck
to her guns
out smarted him
free as a bird
in flight
well known
hijra celebrity
in her own right
heena queen
of hearts
queen of night
a blossom
in spectral light
she is generous
she is kind
she is a poetic
for the rights
of the hijras
the peela house whores
she puts up a fight
even those
who take her
for granted
die of fright
during ramazan
she fasts
reads the
for iftar
all the poor
she invites
a believer
of khawajah
gharib nawaz
heena hijra
in the lime light
biologically born male
but a woman
like reality
her woman's angst
her inherited
birth right
she has it
she flaunts it
she is extremely
polite my muse
my inspiration
heena hijra
queen of the hijras
on my homesite
a barefeet blogger
a street photographer
a pedestrian poet
also a shiite

Heena Hijra The Sultry Siren

124,635 items / 877,431 views

like a pigeon
locked in
a wired pen
a life
of hijra pain
no sense
the future
bleak bare
dark and dense
by my
camera lens
the first time
i came to
peela houese
the hijra whore
house den
a long time then
heena the hybrid
wild orchid
by all men
for her love
for her friendship
her zeal and zen
pillow talk
all the way
to heaven
as ecstasy
joy zenitude
as they come
again and again
for a sequence
lighting a fire
that even time
cant extinguish
is her defense
to her
her mystique
heena hijra
who lies
as unfulfilled
a barricaded

to love or not to love
says my poets soul
of heena the sultry siren

The Wild Eunuch Goes Haywire

124,634 items / 876,466 views

hot sweaty
a musky fragrance
she perspires
in a satin flimsy
attire her body
her soul
her devilish
hearts desire
her senses
all on fire born
in captivity her
world of pain
by barbwire
her lover
has left
her for good
a love that
he eloped
with jasmin
she male
a facebook friend
a positive spammer
adding to her ire
the wild eunuch
goes haywire
her eyes
burning orbs
blue sapphire
she is mad
she is angry
she is furious
she wants to regain
her lost empire
not a part
complete entire
from the hands of
fucked fate
a blood sucking
a love tale
of treachery
a seductive satire
a eunuch spits fire
a man she once loved
more than her life
a coward a blackguard
a genetic repulsive liar
love a commodity
on the streets
in great demand
far too many buyers
but you can also
get it on rent on loan
or on short term hire

Wednesday, April 28, 2010

The Cosmic Poets Grief

I am a blue eyed
poster boy of pain
a comatose heart
dead brain
although she
has removed me
from her hearts list
within my cosmic
soul she is ingrained
the damage is already done
outside her locked doors
of destiny I remain
will she take me in
will she not take me in
my thoughts
of guilt and betrayal
on a higher plain
she is more poetic
than I am sensitive
she had to do
what she had to do
I have no reason
to complain
as I walk
on embers of fire
once again
a swish of a
from the
of her artistry
her silence
her speechlessness
without restrain
a cosmic
poet slain
in love with her for real
emotions he did not feign
lost time will not explain
it is better to have
loved and lost
in a prosaic world
morose and mundane
memories on
my consciousness
of a deleted dew drop
I retain
a lost poodle
for his mistress
with the collar and chain

Love Is A Sweet and Bitter Pill

124,632 items / 875,356 views

it might hurt
you more than me
i have decided
not to stand
glass eyed
your window sill
poetic love
has lost its thrill
with your silence
you did kill
when I questioned
you on your
you said
it was Allahs will
with pain
my soul instilled
on the corridors
of my consciousness
over spilled
a dreamer
at your door
with your dreams
making a mountain
of a dunghill
at end of the day
the score is nil

love is a sweet and bitter pill
an empty pail of water
no jack and jill

Once Upon a Time Not Long Ago

124,631 items / 875,313 views

she was a full
bodied cute boy
a thought
you might
not know
but as a girl
she wanted
to grow
into the river
of a mans
heart flow
she transformed
her body
like a beautiful
pouted lips
curved eyebrows
eye liner eye shadow
a heaving chest
more to show
yes a diva presto
dancing like
a dream angel
on her toes
to gain her love
men came to blows
libidinous old men
lecherous lewd men
would not let her go
but she was searching
for a dreamer who
lived beyond the rainbow
within the silhouette
of a scarecrow
a wacko and a weirdo
it was him
her souls poetry
her shadow
his picture
she kept
beneath her pillow
but he was in love
with a woman
a whispering weed
in the land
of the pharaoh
free boundless
enigma -like
someone elses

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Poets Are Born Losers in Love

124,630 items / 875,161 views

tried and found guilty as charged...?

like a mad bull into
the porcelain pillars
of your heart i barged
your silence
your anger
your speechlessness
my soul recharged
now you have the
upper hand
you win
from the
bower of your
spectral light
a poet dismissed

a picture captured
as poetry
but cannot
be enlarged

Forgive Me I Have Sinned

124,630 items / 875,079 views

following her
like a canine
to possess her
in the
of my desolate
i pine
every time
i come online
she belongs
to my poetry
but she is
not mine
my hopes
on a decline
only love
can make
into wine
a damsel divine
after nine
her deadline
she is coy
she is feline
to my poems

This was a poem I wrote called Love Online a long time back before I became a victim of my delusions and lost illusions

27 April 2010

she wears a mask
a poetess benign
it is her silence
that kills mine
by this
poet swine
like a speck
of dust
i kiss her
as she tramples
my soul
on my spine
Cleopatra like
serene divine
a sphinx
almost a shrine
older than history
her bloodline
very feline
like a creeper
to her destiny
i am entwined

the path
to her
heartless heart
i still cant find
yes cosmic
love has made
me blind
a karmic passion
swift streamlined
online love
spectral light
the shadow
of her neckline

forgive me
i have sinned
i took you for
my fate
the flesh
was willing
the soul
thick skinned
from afar
cupid grinned
a broken arrow
my ass skinned
one sided
online love
in a cross wind

The Birth Of A Hijra

124,630 items / 874,290 views

he may have been
a beautiful boy
is all i can say
the other boys
were famous for
he did not play
he liked
his sisters doll
as it came his way
or his sisters dresses
that he envied
secretly tried
them each day
the birth of the hijra
a game replayed
leaving his home
changing his destiny
the hijra became a
nubile goddess
on her dainty feet
dancing away
on the edge
of a razor blade
doing ballet
body made
of honey
feet made
of clay
new lovers
new hopes
where she
under the bough
of moonlight night
love that
they made
every night
she cries
to god
she prays
when old age
will come
her beauty
like a deathly
sting ray

one of the reasons
why the hijras
do not celebrate
their birthday

A Shia Bloggers Back

I had scourged severely , I had used the sword too, but they pulled it from my hand thereby accidentally cutting my tendon , I thought it was a small cut but the next day on my way to Mumbai in the train it turned gangrenous , blue my blood sugar was 500 and from that day I became insulin independent , luckily I did not have to amputate my right hand ..

My right hand is completely damaged , now in the shape of a cobras hood , that has however endeared me to the Naga Sadhu and My Naga Guru Vijay Giri Maharaj of Juna Akhada and an Islamic scholar too.

I type with one finger and all my blogs are the gift of an index finger of the damaged right hand.

Well Its True I Shoot Hijras

124,629 items / 873,881 views

well its true
i shoot hijras
all colors and hue
even those
that are
but few
into the gallery
of their angst
i give
you a ring side view
the mutative hijra
all glossy brand new
the fucked nest of humanity
he flew borrowed wings
of a female angel
its true
the hjjra
blood muscles sinew
waiting to be accepted
by sanctimonious
in a long queue
like a lost illusion
in a garden of eden
between man woman
he grew

Dheere Dheere Bol Koie Sun Na Le

124,628 items / 873,824 views

mera nam
hai mona
main teri kismet
main aiee hoon
ban ke khilona
na aurat
na mard
the missing
main hoon
bistar gilaf
no menstrual
no bacche kacche
no rona dhona
ab rootho mat
jaldi se
mere jism
ki ag bujha dona
jalti hoon main
ankhen malti
hoon main
black magic
jadu tona
mujhse shadi
shayar saab
jaldi bolo na
kapde utaro
hosh sambhalo
jo hona he hona
meri kismet
ki suee ko
dhage se pirona

I have written this between two chats..and I got this message in Flickr inbox

A Note to my Favorite Poet

I continue to look at your work daily, I do so enjoy it. In particular however I must thank you for opening my world to include the Hijra. Several of your pictures with those magnificent people as object of your photography moved me very, very deeply, as well as emotionally. Thank you again.


Mardon Ne Janam Diye Hijdon Ko

124,627 items / 873,807 views

hijdon ne unhe barbad kiya
jab chaha sar pe chada diya
jab chaha unhe abad kiya
aurat bankar aurat ka pyar diya

The Hijra Is Not a Religious Bigot

124,626 items / 873,761 views

he does not
wear a belt
of bombs
his waist
he doe not
blow up
a thought
in spiritual
bad taste
the religion
of hating
peace and
he has not
by rogue
ahle hadeez
on his
heart and soul
he has not placed
hardships insults
for loving
the shahenshah of peace
khwajah gharib nawaz
he has faced
from a cleric
mehraj rabbani
who has hurt the
the hospitality
of the Indian race
inciting hatred
inciting religious
hate with his
the soul
of my country
he has
he should
be locked
up forever
or thrown out
bag and baggage
post haste
satyamave jayate
sarv dharm ek
to the world
we have
the hijra is human
unlike a rogue
cleric racist
two faced

dedicated to the khadims of ajmer

Monday, April 26, 2010

Jab Hijde Ka Budapa Ata Hai

124,624 items / 873,271 views

jab hijde ka
budapa ata hai
doodh ka doodh
pani ka pani
ho jata hai
hijda rat ke
se ghabrata hai
bagh main
naye hijdon
ko dekhhar
tilmilata hai
patjhad ki aad
main khud ko kosta
reh jata hai
apne lute zevar
ko dekhkar
man kho jata hai
woh jawani
ka itrana
woh pyara
hasin manzar
yad ata hai
hijda badkismati
ke takiye
par sar pathak
ke so jata hai

ek khunkar maut
ka saya jhuriyan
lekar 'hijde ke darwaze
ko khat khatata hai
jab hijde ka budapa
ata hai
luti hui jawani ki
yad dilata hai
hijda ek bar
kai bar
mar jata hai

If They Could Shoot Hijras Like I do

124,623 items / 873,073 views

a spiritual avenue
if they could shoot
hijras like i do
to show you
without titillation
that hijras are
human too
a fucked specimen
in the human zoo
hate on the hijra
everyone spews
look around
social boycott
racial profiling
is it not true
for sanctimonious
hijra is taboo
why the hijra
is hated
they have no clue
kidnapping kids
forceful castration
hijra tales grew
from the soul
of mankind
the hijra
neither man
nor woman
but from
all sides
they get
the hijra
the hijra guru
article 377
souls slew
but in india
the hijra has
if you see
nari nareshwar
to the cosmic reality
of brahma
mahadev vishnu
it is not me
as a poet
but the hijra
my soul
the soul
of my
inner angst
i give the
hijra his due
a blogger
living in
a house
of bamboo
walls of bricks
not mine
by virtue

for stepping into my world of cosmic chaos i thank you

The Bleeding Mask

124,622 items / 873,055 views

to survive
the onslaughts
of time
pain is a
i need
a pain on
the palm
of my destiny
i carried
on the scaffold
it was love
i married
the soul
of my sorrow
i hastily
now back
from the dead
in a bleeding mask
wasted and wearied
trying to grow
into her heart
like a wanton seed
a dreamer
lost in a surrealistic
paper wings
is all i need
my despair
on my flesh
i feed
a sunset
less in my life
for another
i plead
on her
string of
broken beads

Born To Beg

124,621 items / 872,627 views

born to beg
was the heritage
of her birth
a few coins
in a aluminum
is her life's
on the soul
of mother
it would have been
mercy killing
if she had
died in childbirth
an eternal pain
part of her
child's girth

sometimes dying once is better than dying everyday

Sunday, April 25, 2010

Sometimes Death is a Blessing in Disguise

124,618 items / 872,537 views

in a world
full of corruption
where hope
is sodomized
where truth
is terrorized
where love
each morning
commits suicide
where trust
is taken for a ride
where peace
on a dictators
where humility
is trampled
vanity resides
to the poor
a somnolent
god no hope
groveling before
a corrupt system
the common man
gets kicks
on his backside
taking his misery
as providence as fate
his pain hides
hiss time bides
seeking an end
to life's torture
sometimes death
is a blessing
in disguise
into a funereal
gloom his soul
swings and slides
to this poet
his pain
he confides
burnt from
burnt outside

The Chase Begins

124,617 items / 872,464 views

dont stop dreaming
whether you lose
whether you win
the birth of an actor
the chase begins
a maverick on
a silver screen
a new tale spins
from a builder
to an actor
a new trade in
a year of kapoor
revival he grins
with his kith and kin
houseful therein
in his soul of soul
a raj kapoor within
father shammi kappor
nods his chin
life is coming out
of thick and thin
an actor is an actor
his flesh and skin

to aditya raj kapoor
in humble gratitude
a barefeet blogger
unbottled djinn

Shooting the Hijra Angst

over heard among the hijras

yeh sala chutita
ham logon ke photo
leke kya karta hai

said the other hijra
gand main dalta hai

said the third
gandu sarkela hai

the last one
sala eda bhi hai

I gave them Rs 20 and drove away in the ricksha I had to meet Laurent Salesse at Leopold Cafe and Bar at 12 pm last Sunday..

And whatever the hijras told about me is inadmissible in a court of law and cannot be used as evidence against them or me for that matter..