Unhealing Hands

Unhealing Hands, originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1.

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perhaps
my bejeweled hand
was ashamed
by her leprous stump
pain that man carries
on his soul
like a camels hump
conjoined eternity
a potholed path
more and more bumps
the rich man
in this world was born lucky
over the moon he jumps
while the poor soul
lies in the dumps

Marziya my grand daughter has met three unfortunate souls if I call them so one Appu the limbless guy, the umbrella lady of Bandra Reclamation and Maria the leper lady of Boran Road.

Through them I exposed Marziya to pain and charity..but charity does not really drive away the pain it adds more pain like a insult to injury.


I am sure Marziya understand this as she is a very gifted child although she is only two and a half years old.

I know I must have been as intelligent like her when I was bought to Mumbai in '54 from Lucknow I was a year old or two , Mumbai was Bombay than and moved about raw at a slum in Kurla a shanty on a Hindu crematorium our first house once upon a Time ..and my Dad from those humble beginnings of remorse despair bought us to Wodehouse Road and changed our lives forever so perhaps I bond with the beggars the dregs of society..

I think this beginning is part of the end of life , Marziya sees it too..Marziya 's dad might not have seen it I left him to work in Musact and when I returned and my other two children were born I was already a Genie held in captivity in a bottle of Old Monk Rum.. perhaps too many bottles of rum.


I drank through life for over 17 years and have been dry for a about 10 years now or more so Marziya sees what I could not show to my children..shooting life with a bottle only gets you fuzzy images of a circle of confusion I could not escape from the fires of my karmic fate.

So the blog cauterizes pain and heals but it is a very slow process .. on a burner that hardly has anymore fuel...