They are totally hooked to gard brown sugar they sniff smoke and inject themselves .
They are denizens of a doomed destiny some of them come from good homes dont we all, but than got trapped on the way and every step pulled them in like whirlpool of no escape.
A friend of mine smoke to one of them and the gardalu as they are called in local language , now a scavenger from garbage dumps sells his stuff a bhangar joints told him, he cant give it up.
He spends over Rs 500 per day on this nasha , he steals clothes hanging out to dry , the jeans sarees bring him good money, he steals kids cycles sometime he steals their school bags too.
The one who spoke to my fiend was his childhood friend now a incorrigible druggie he told him he has never molested children but he sleeps with women who are in the trade or those hooked on gard like him.
His body is normally full of sores that dont heal and it gets worse than they go to the municipal hospital and if the disease is terminal they sleep outside the hospital but ironically in most cases they outlive death and are back on their feet back collecting saleable stuff from the garbage.
They work alone or in pairs , this place and a passage between two buildings on this lane is where they shoot poison into their systems.
The Lucky hotel signal is their adda or the dumps at Bandra reclamation a huge white gunny sack on their shoulders they go about their work stealthily silently.
If provoked they can be dangerous even the cops dont mess with the they keep a piece of blade in their mouth to resist arrest and cops dont want to get the stick for excess when the gardalu will cut himself and blame it on the beatings by the cop to the judge.
They move freely and their hallowed kingdom is the garbage this is their temple and pace of worship it sustains them.. they have no religion only the next shot the next high.
They have no siblings no parents no ancestry they have no names like you and me some call them gardalu junkie or charsi.
They live beneath the undergrowth of Mumbai life like rodents running from one dump to the other.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
The Drug Addict Of Bandra
A Picture Thought For Fred
140,247 items / 1,087,328 views
Uncle please take
my picture he said
to bring back memories
of the school days
of your Pune friend Fred
now settled in Texas
I bet 'he too liked to get wet
buying jeera goli kairi
picking up badams
from the street
a childhood
the games the bunking
will he ever forget
senior miller
his dad at worli
the huge hoardings
earning his daily bread
this was a lesson in humility
said his dad fred
in life dont ever
get a swollen head
see that your feet
fit the chaddar
dont over reach the bed
fred whatever you do
whatever you become
you will always be in lifes debt
remember showing
him a hoarding of nargis dutts
mother India that he was working on
this is true love of the country
you were born in
into your heart and soul
like a banyan tree 'it will spread
nodding his head our fred
his bat his ball
along with the chokra boys
of worli fred fled
Jesus The Sentinel
140,247 items / 1,087,233 views
was recently
admitted to
bhaba hospital
he caught
malaria
jaundice
typhoid
he has
not been
too well
he is on
sick leave
from his job
as a sentinel
he would have
been infected
anyway
because
of the gutter
that flows
at bandra bazar road
the filthy 'dirty smell
for years patiently
he lived on this
mound of a hell
his pain to the
municipal corp orator
he dd not tell
being a healer
his services
he did not
oversell
he gave free
medicine
for the human soul
caught in a traffic jam
of a life's pell mell
now jesus lies
on the floor
of this hospital
hoping to
recover soon
to be on time
to attend his
mothers birthday
at mount mary
a thought
that rings a bell
like you
he wants
to be there
as well
also to wish the
muslims idd mubarak
the hindus happy
ganesha festival
he told
me the the roads
before the ganeshas
leave for the visarjan
the pot holes
they level
once those
who sit at the
MCGM
do their road paving jobs
pretty well
for the sake of
Amchi Mumbai
the Mumbaikar
the common man
live let live
dont rebel
now dont ask me why jesus was admitted to the bhabha hospital and not to the to the holy family hospital at bandra a dark secret under oath I was told not to tell..but i will jesus was broke the hefty advance they demand at his community's hospital he could not shell....dressed as a Muslim with a long beard he was scared the watchman might not recognize him thinking him to be a terrorist throw him out as well..
Mumbai The Magic Land
140,247 items / 1,087,163 views
from the ashes
of chawls old bungalows
slums shanties
open lands
towers of babels
vertically it expands
for every built up
square feet
a value for money
it demands
respect
reverence
it commands
once it was colaba
wodehouse road
now it is sharukh khans
bungalow at band stand
or galaxy where
salman khan lives
crowds of die hard fans
forgotten are areas
like null bazar
famous for pots and pans
peela house foras road
shuklaji street kamatipura
famous for one night stands
mumbai the magic land
a dream held in the
palm of every hand
the filthiest dirtiest city
malaria dengue
swine flu typhoid jaundice
a soul strangulated
by its own hands
bollywood film city
mehboob studio
filmistan the pride
of filmi hindustan
our film fare awards
as famous
as what you get
at the oscars
or at Cannes
our heroes
our heroines
our item girls
their filmy
shenanigans
the queen of the soap
opera mumbai potholes
the gift of a broken hand
iftar parties at
islam gymkhana
kaisar bagh
only for the rich and famous
the poor beg outside deadpan
peace hope humanity
hindus muslims christians
in this indian heartland
why bloggers cant be a part
of media a thought
i could never ever
understand and
i would rather live
here in mumbai
in bankruptcy
than get my
muti colored ass
fucked
in foreign lands
do gaz zameen ke neeche
in my own motherland
Mumbai The Magic Land
140,247 items / 1,087,163 views
from the ashes
of chawls old bungalows
slums shanties
open lands
towers of babels
vertically it expands
for every built up
square feet
a value for money
it demands
respect
reverence
it commands
once it was colaba
wodehouse road
now it is sharukh khans
bungalow at band stand
or galaxy where
salman khan lives
crowds of die hard fans
forgotten are areas
like null bazar
famous for pots and pans
peela house foras road
shuklaji street kamatipura
famous for one night stands
mumbai the magic land
a dream held in the
palm of every hand
the filthiest dirtiest city
malaria dengue
swine flu typhoid jaundice
a soul strangulated
by its own hands
bollywood film city
mehboob studio
filmistan the pride
of filmi hindustan
our film fare awards
as famous
as what you get
at the oscars
or at Cannes
our heroes
our heroines
our item girls
their filmy
shenanigans
the queen of the soap
opera mumbai potholes
the gift of a broken hand
iftar parties at
islam gymkhana
kaisar bagh
only for the rich and famous
the poor beg outside deadpan
peace hope humanity
hindus muslims christians
in this indian heartland
why bloggers cant be a part
of media a thought
i could never ever
understand and
i would rather live
here in mumbai
in bankruptcy
than get my
muti colored ass
fucked
in foreign lands
do gaz zameen ke neeche
in my own motherland
Marziya Shakir Kisses The Hands of the Shakha Pramukh Bandra
Marziya Shakir Kisses The Hands of the Shakha Pramukh Bandra, originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1.
She has been seeing Mr Sudesh Dubey the Shiv Sena Shakha Pramukh , since she was a toddler hanging on my waist as I shot his Ganesh pandal on SV Rad Bandra .
As I was bringing her from school she spotted him and a he smiled in recognition she went up to him outside the Bandra Post office and kissed his hands he was totally take aback surprised at her gesture and her respect for him.
Marziya surprises me too now days and I am not making this up her chant is I am Salman Khan..this from a two and a half year old child.
After she kissed his hands I gave her my camera she paced the strap around her neck and shot this powerful politician of Bandra who is well known in this area for helping the poor and the needy.
The Dying Race of the Boot Polish Boys of Bandra Hill Road
The Dying Race of the Boot Polish Boys of Bandra Hill Road, originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1.
140,245 items / 1,086,848 views
Business is very bad
a it rains heavily non stop
soggy shoes
waterlogged boots
that need no polish
business has flopped
such is their fate
they keep getting flogged
their pain their human suffering
of urchins who now beg for survival
their dying hopes i have blogged
it is raining non stop and the homeless who live on the road search for corners nooks and crannies the sky walk any safe place as shelter for their water logged dreams inundated by the fury viciousness of the mumbai rains
if you go out now camera in hand you could shoot pain but i am too tired after my iftar i just crashed without my dinner and woke up a few minutes back.
my computer cannot be repaired so i work on my sons spare laptop
The Portrait of a Poet in a Mirror
140,198 items / 1,086,083 views
hidden
in the dark doomed
soul of a mirror
lies this poets ghost
a mystic poet
the only one
on the west coat
bollywoods
most wanted
is his boast
blogging
the soul of colored
humanity with
fetid comments
his ass they roast
his poems one day
might also be published
by bombay dost
crossword penguin
as your host
prolifically
uploading his misery
post to post
lifting his leg
squirting
a poem
on the
lamppost
to nitin karani
Monday, August 30, 2010
The Ghost of a Transvestite That Follows Me Everywhere
The Ghost of a Transvestite That Follows Me Everywhere, originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1.
140,181 items / 1,086,058 views
call it my misfortune
i asked god
for a woman to love
he gave me one
far too soon
from across the border
a transvestite
he gave me as a boon
through facebook
friend finder
au clare de la lune
soon began
a tryst with my
fate facebook chat
going down under
she climaxed
main hoon
main hoon
bodily gyrations
going out of tune
patter patter
raindrops
monsoon
our souls
in a swoon
on a silver
sand dune
when i
woke up
from my dream
i felt
like a buffoon
although
i have deleted
her from my fucked
consciousness
on my soul she is strewn
match fixing
my aborted love
from lahore to badayun
she follows
me everywhere
this transvestite typhoon
the transvestites tale never ends ..
Silhouette of the Hijab
140,113 items / 1,085,769 views
The silhouette of the hijab
through my camera lens
on the soul
of street photography
i froze
a garment
of modesty
up close
considered
a thorn
as well as
a rose
what
we are
what we
stand for
it shows
an emotion
of our womanhood
in black clothes
Minimalist Art
Inspired By Nitin Sharma!
gaur se deken
toh zindigai kuch
aisi hi ulat gayi
dhabbe dhote dhote
sari umar kat gayi
punya aur pap
main zindagi
simat gayi
thodi bahut
godwill thi
woh doston
main bat gayi
My Best Friend Raju Langewal Of Lal Bagh Cha Raja
My Best Friend Raju Langewal Of Lal Bagh Cha Raja, originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1.
Withour Raju Langewal Sunil Joshi Satish Khankar and several others karya kartas and volunteers I would have ever shot the Lal Bagh Cha Raja so extensively I owe it to them, they know I am fasting I walk barefeet from Lal Bagh till the next morning till Kumbharwada without rest I dont have a car I just walk shooting the Raja when he enters Muslim areas in humility touching all humanity .
Here the Muslim youth at Do Tanki help the Hindu brethren get the Rajas darshan , the Muslims felicitate the Raja and this moment I come to shoot I have given up standing on a drum and shooting Ganeshas at Girgaum Chowpatty I exclusively as a photo blogger shoot the Raja instead to add to my personal collection called Hope and Hindutva a Message of Peace.
Most of the people the crowds know me and wait for me to break my fast at Byculla offering me tea fruits and I am crying as I write this one Hindu gentleman was so emotional that he touched my feet and said I will undertake a Ramzan fast because if you respect my religion why should I not respect your religion.. So this is the true ethos of Amchi Mumbai a city without Hate on auspicious moments like this.
Yes I am a Hindu as much as you are a Muslim but the fact remains we are hardcore Indians nothing can change the color of our cultural identity..do I really need to see my pictures in newspapers .. I am happy bogging and sharing with all of you the spirit of my the country of my birth and my heritage.
When I walk with the Raja I am neither Muslim nor Hindu I am an Indian a photo bogger of Peace and Humanity.
Raju Langewal the treasurer of the Lal Bagh Cha Raja is my first friend from the pandal.and this time when i reached Lalbagh to pay my respect he was overjoyed and was thinking about me.
We hardly talk or connect the rest of the year ..only the Ganesha festival brings us close.
And Raju Bhai knows that the Raja loves me as much as he loves them all..and I must add here the Lal Bagh Cha Raja may like photographers but he love this photo blogger the most.
And this was shot by RajuBhais brother .
The Panwalas of Lalbagh
Now you know why I consider Lalbagh Cha Raja Gully the haven of street photography I shot shops peoples moments lived relived and I have begun my 19 fast of Ramzan all night Shia folks do Amal and the Martyrdom of Hazrat Ali is a sad for all of us.
And if somebody could murder the First Shia Imam and the Fourth Sunni Caliph in a mosque and get away with it thereby creating a precedence and a license to kill with impunity in Gods house and make home in heaven among 72 nubile virgins what would you term modern Jehad killings massacres suicide bombings and these are thought I have as I add my angst on the soul of a panwala a common man eking out a living at Lalbagh ..
I consider myself lucky having been born a Muslim in India where my cultural identity the pluralism of my surroundings having lived with Hindus and Christians Parsis Buddhists all my life made me what I am a human loving person.
So it hurts me to see the hate one Muslim has for another highly condemnable I have a few videos on Shiasm me cutting my head on Ashura and Chehlum and the bilious comments the Wahabbi adherents the Salafis and the Ahle Hadees lovers of insular Islam write on it makes me puke all over my shirt front.
Your hate your bigotry cannot change my upbringing my religious views or my Shia tradition and the hypocrisy on social networking sites everybody enjoys my pictures and the moment I post 21 Ramzan blood and gore matams scourging on my site at Flickr Facebook I will be castigated and thrashed cyberbullied ,
This is the flip side of being a barefeet Shia blogger of Mumbai.
A blogger needs pictures to blog his angst and here I do it on a picture of a pan the most integral part of my ancestry as a Lucknow born , Pan was part of Adab and Tehzeeb , the wife bought the pandan as her dowry I still have the metal one bought by my wife when she accidentally married me by a quirk of fate called the Istikhara.
My dad my my grand parents ate the pan , chewed it with relish and with etiquette unlike the quintessential pan chewing Maharashtrian counter part who spat on walls we had the Ugaldan and spat in this .
I never liked pan at all..it is considered an auspicious item at weddings and other poetic dos or mushairas.
My mom used to drag me as a little kid to buy pan in the wholesale market at Null Bazar and these are nostalgic moments I never forgot and those days my mother was a very vibrant force and now dead and gone I still consider her a vibrant force she was the force that makes me write what I write she taught us the greatest lesson she taught us Tolerance and those days our Bai whom we called Aiee was a an old Maharashtrian lady our maids were mostly Catholics from Goa and Mangalore .
We did have a Muslim cook who worked for Nawab Kashmiris family with us for a short while , we were their tenants and after they left Wodehoue Road Khatau Bhuvan he worked for us..like a family member.
And when Samiya was my daughter was born we kept a Marathi bai who is our next door neighbor now staying in a slum rehabilitation building.She still visits us at all major Hindu festivals..and our own too.
Only Marziya has had no servants she has been bought up by the Family., two and a half year old street photographer painter and creative artist waiting in the wings on the wings of time.
An a few pictures after this I will complete 140000 photo blogs at Flickr dedicated to all of you without you I would have not reached this far.
And Dr Glenn Losack MD my mentor because of whom you see all my pictures he paid for my Pro membership for two years.
The Panwalas of Lalbagh
Now you know why I consider Lalbagh Cha Raja Gully the haven of street photography I shot shops peoples moments lived relived and I have begun my 19 fast of Ramzan all night Shia folks do Amal and the Martyrdom of Hazrat Ali is a sad for all of us.
And if somebody could murder the First Shia Imam and the Fourth Sunni Caliph in a mosque and get away with it thereby creating a precedence and a license to kill with impunity in Gods house and make home in heaven among 72 nubile virgins what would you term modern Jehad killings massacres suicide bombings and these are thought I have as I add my angst on the soul of a panwala a common man eking out a living at Lalbagh ..
I consider myself lucky having been born a Muslim in India where my cultural identity the pluralism of my surroundings having lived with Hindus and Christians Parsis Buddhists all my life made me what I am a human loving person.
So it hurts me to see the hate one Muslim has for another highly condemnable I have a few videos on Shiasm me cutting my head on Ashura and Chehlum and the bilious comments the Wahabbi adherents the Salafis and the Ahle Hadees lovers of insular Islam write on it makes me puke all over my shirt front.
Your hate your bigotry cannot change my upbringing my religious views or my Shia tradition and the hypocrisy on social networking sites everybody enjoys my pictures and the moment I post 21 Ramzan blood and gore matams scourging on my site at Flickr Facebook I will be castigated and thrashed cyberbullied ,
This is the flip side of being a barefeet Shia blogger of Mumbai.
A blogger needs pictures to blog his angst and here I do it on a picture of a pan the most integral part of my ancestry as a Lucknow born , Pan was part of Adab and Tehzeeb , the wife bought the pandan as her dowry I still have the metal one bought by my wife when she accidentally married me by a quirk of fate called the Istikhara.
My dad my my grand parents ate the pan , chewed it with relish and with etiquette unlike the quintessential pan chewing Maharashtrian counter part who spat on walls we had the Ugaldan and spat in this .
I never liked pan at all..it is considered an auspicious item at weddings and other poetic dos or mushairas.
My mom used to drag me as a little kid to buy pan in the wholesale market at Null Bazar and these are nostalgic moments I never forgot and those days my mother was a very vibrant force and now dead and gone I still consider her a vibrant force she was the force that makes me write what I write she taught us the greatest lesson she taught us Tolerance and those days our Bai whom we called Aiee was a an old Maharashtrian lady our maids were mostly Catholics from Goa and Mangalore .
We did have a Muslim cook who worked for Nawab Kashmiris family with us for a short while , we were their tenants and after they left Wodehoue Road Khatau Bhuvan he worked for us..like a family member.
And when Samiya was my daughter was born we kept a Marathi bai who is our next door neighbor now staying in a slum rehabilitation building.She still visits us at all major Hindu festivals..and our own too.
Only Marziya has had no servants she has been bought up by the Family., two and a half year old street photographer painter and creative artist waiting in the wings on the wings of time.
An a few pictures after this I will complete 140000 photo blogs at Flickr dedicated to all of you without you I would have not reached this far.
And Dr Glenn Losack MD my mentor because of whom you see all my pictures he paid for my Pro membership for two years.
Street Photography is a Teardrop
on the soul of Humanity as it solidifies and becomes a poetic moment in Eternity
Shab E Zarbat
139,916 items / 1,084,555 views
www.ezsoftech.com/ramadan/ramadan20.asp
The commander of faithful, the father of eloquence, the caretaker of the orphans, the shelter of the needy and the perfect of all humans after Holy Prophet Muhammad (saw). Born in the House of Allah, Holy Kaaba, and martryed in the House of Allah, Masjid-e-Kufa. He died on the 21st day of Ramadan 40 A.H. and buried in Najaf al-Ashraf (Iraq).
On the eve of the martyrdom of Imam Ali (as) we take this opportunity to extend our heartiest condolences to Imam of the time, Imam Mahdi (as) and the Muslim world. Oh Allah (SWT) help us live the life of Imam Ali (as)!
Imam Ali ibn Abi Talib (as) had prophesied his departure from this world several days before hand, and on the day of his martyrdom he mysteriously desired his sons Imam Hasan and Imam Hussain (as) to offer their morning prayers in the house and not to accompany him as they usually did to the mosque of Kufa. When Imam Ali (as) was leaving his abode, the household birds began making a great noise and when one of Imam Ali's servants attempted to quieted them, Imam Ali (as) said, "Leave them alone, for their cries are only lamentations foreboding my death."
On the 19th of the month of Holy Ramadan (Mah e Ramzan) of the year 40 A.H, Imam Ali (pbuh) came to the mosque in Kufa for his morning prayers. Imam Ali (pbuh) gave the call for prayer (Azaan) and became engaged in leading the congregation. Abd-al-Rahman ibn Muljam pretending to pray, stood just behind Imam Ali (pbuh), and when Imam Ali (pbuh) was in a state of prostration, Abd-al-Rahman ibn Muljam dealt a heavy stroke with his sword, inflicting a deep wound on Imam Ali's (pbuh) head.
This was the time when Imam Ali (as) uttered his famous words : "Fuzto warab-il-Kaaba" - "By the Rab of Kaaba, I am successful".
Holy Prophet Muhammad (pbuh) had prophesied the assassination of Imam Ali (pbuh) and his issues. Regarding Imam Ali (pbuh) Holy Prophet Muhammad (pbuh) had said, "O Ali! I see before my eyes thy beard dyed with the blood of thy forehead."
They assassinated Imam Ali (pbuh) at his finest time - the hour of standing before Allah, the Exalted, during a prayer of submission, in the best of days, while fasting during the month of Ramadan (Mah e Ramzan); during the most glorious Islamic duties, while preparing to wage jihad, and in the highest and most pure divine places, the Mosque of Kufa.
May joy be to Amir al-Muminin Imam Ali bin Abi Talib (pbuh) and a blessed afterlife!
The crime of assassinating Imam Ali (pbuh) remains one of the most cruel, brutal and hideous, because it was not committed against one man, but against the whole rational Islamic leadership. By assassinating Imam Ali (pbuh), they actually aimed at assassinating the message, the history, the culture and the nation of Muslims embodied in the person of Imam Ali bin Abi Talib (pbuh). In doing so, the Islamic nation lost its guide of progress, and at the most wondrous opportunity in its life after the Holy Prophet (pbuh).
Imam Ali (pbuh) suffered from his wound for three days, and He (pbuh) passed away on 21st of the month of Ramadan (Mah e Ramzan) at an age of 63 years.
During these three days, he (pbuh) entrusted his son, Imam Hasan (pbuh) with the Imamate of guiding the nation ideologically and socially. During those three days, as during all his life, he never ceased remembering Allah, praising Him, and accepting Him and His ordinance.
Likewise, he continued giving pieces of advice and directions leading to good, pointing to the right, defining the way to guidance, explaining the course for deliverance, calling for the observance of Allah's ordinances, and warning against following one's ill desires and set-backs from not carrying out the divine message.
The following is one piece of advice offered to his sons, Imam Hasan (pbuh) and Imam Hussain (pbuh), as well as to his people, the nation and coming generations:
"I advise you to fear Allah, and not to run after (the pleasure of) the world, even if it may run after you. Do not be sorry for anything from it which you have been denied. Say the truth and act for (Allah's) reward. Be an enemy of the oppressor, and be a helper of the oppressed."
"I advise you, my children, my household and all those who may receive my message, to fear Allah, to arrange your affairs well, to maintain good relations among yourselves, for I have heard your grandfather (pbuh) saying: 'Good relations are better than prayer and fasting in general.'"
"(Fear) Allah when handling matters of orphans. Do not let them starve, nor allow them to be lost as long as you are there."
"(Fear) Allah in respect to your neighbors, for they were the trust of your Prophet (pbuh). He went on asking us to take care of them, so much that we thought he would make them heirs (of our heritage)."
"(Fear) Allah in respect to the Holy Quran, (take care that) no one may excel you in following its tenets."
Fuzto warab-il-Kaaba - By the Rab of Kaaba, I am successful"(Fear) Allah in respect to prayer, as it is the pillar of your religion."
"(Fear) Allah in respect to your Lord's House (Kaaba), do not forsake it so long as you live, because if you do you will not be looked upon with respect."
"(Fear) Allah in respect to Jihad, fight with your wealth, your lives and your tongues, in the way of Allah."
"Have mutual liaison and give-and-take. Beware of turning your faces from, and of renouncing, one another. Do not abandon bidding good and forbidding evil, lest vicious people may overrule you, and then in such a case, your invocations will not be responded to (by Allah)."
Then he said: "O, Banu Abdul Muttalib, certainly I do not want you to wade through the blood of the Muslims, crying: Amir al-Muminin was murdered. You certainly kill for me no one but my killer."
"Wait till I die by this stroke of him (Abd-al-Rahman ibn Muljam), then strike a single stroke against him, and do not disfigure his body, for I had heard the Holy Prophet (pbuh) saying: 'Avoid mayhem even with a rabid dog.'"
Such was the heroic end of this great man! The loss to the Mission and the nation was the gravest after the loss of the Holy Prophet (pbuh).
By the death of Imam Ali (pbuh) the nation lost:
A heroism that had become the song of the time;
A courageous history that has never dreamt of its like;
A wisdom no one can fathom, save Allah;
A purity, the like of which was only in the prophets;
An abstinence from the pleasures of life that could be attained only by the nearest to Allah;
An eloquence such as to be the echo of Book; and
A jurisprudence, and a thorough knowledge of the laws of religion, that made him the 'gateway of the city' of the Prophet's knowledge, and the authority to whom the Islamic nation referred in all its affairs.
Peace be upon Amir al-Muminin the day he was born, the day he was martyred on his altar, and the day he shall be raised alive.
Praise be to Allah, Lord of the worlds.
The Madwoman of Churchgate
cursing her
horrible fate
in a miserable
state from
days of gloom
to days of doom
it has been
a long wait
searching
for hope
at the end
of the tunnel
finding
the wrong gate
Sunday, August 29, 2010
The Vote Banks of Democracy
139,885 items / 1,083,238 views
when he stands
for election
he needs them
so he lets
their hutments grow
slums shanties
overflow
than once
he comes to power
becomes a builder
the slum dwellers
become his foes
he wants their land
where new towers
will rise their shanties
his men will mow
the vote banks
of democracy
the wastelands
of humanity
crying at
their doors
politics
of convenience
makes men
into pimps
makes women
into whores
a river of remorse
running between
two shores
We Are Family Screams the Banner Across The Streets
We Are Family Screams the Banner Across The Streets, originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1.
139,892 items / 1,083,353 views
this is man
noble creature
once now
biting the dust
sprawled
at gods feet
outside
his grave
his last
heart beat
his cornerstone
the gutter cover
his lost illusions
his winding sheet
a banner across
the streets gives
him hope solace
we are family
a circle complete
man his ultimate fall
his final defeat
dedicated to my facebook friend
uwe paschen
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Shah-e-Mardan Sher-e-Yazdan Quwat-e-Parwardigar Lafata Ila Ali La Saif Ila Zulfiqar , originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1 ....
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Dargah of Hazrat Syed Ali Mira Datar Unava Gujrat , a photo by firoze shakir photographerno1 on Flickr. HAZRAT SYED ALI MIRA DATAR'S G...
