light comes through as creativity added as common sense a wordsmiths workplace making poems through a lens adding to deathly suspense light weighted but dense holistically healing the life span of a broken fence sensibility and sense motivational devotional insanely intense tragically torrid tumultuous tumescent tempestuous and tense
for a specie called migrants from the north or a poet like me its true in india you are either a mosque or a mandir a musllim or a hindu a motley crew you can build a tower flout rules if you are a babu call-it ideal or adarsh it sounds as good as new ministers politicians have diplomatic immunity from god corruption the soul of our blood sweat sinew our nation is stripped paraded naked of the people by the people of the few early morning poems are like utara drunken delusions of sobriety giving society its due opaque like a paper you cant see through the click of a mouse is greater than a pen cutting like a sword if it is held in your hand too over the head of a blogger a wingless blog it flew
A Born Photographer Looks Like This, originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1. a nikon d 80 round her neck you cant miss she shoots the soul of humanity a single shot pictorial bliss a memory with a life kiss photographers are made in heaven place in a mothers womb is the gist recreating gods beauty as it exists a born photographer is gods gift to mankind a thought you cant dismiss innocence masters the art of living just like this snakelike charm tantric kundalini serpents hiss unleashing a holistic power that wont go amiss
he dreams that god has granted him a wish of a new home a new hope no more living on the extreme his wife smiling his children playfully scream he has a regular job everything fine it seems its the waking up to the newly cleaned up spruced up streets of sobo to welcome the black hope of america martin luther kings bleeding pledge to redeem
i have a dream sweet bitter memories flowing into a stream unlike the CWG games more money to be made through another scheme curds and cream on the bind folded soul of humanity ever changing theme
I Am a Humble Maharshtrian She Said, originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1. memories of living unliving to which i was wed less alive more dead good times had come and gone short lived as they fled the long hours the wrinkled hands the domestic chores i earned my family's bread as i bled softly silently sadfully to my grave without regret as i tread half alive somewhat dead
on the viewfinder of her childs soul she saw what she had to shoot blood flesh tears of her genetic roots to the person who taught her to hold the body of the camera in the crucible of her hands she pays a poetic praiseworthy tribute photographers are born not factory made run of the mill manufactured for camera clubs 'she tells the truth 2 year 11 months old solemnly cute the worlds youngest street photographer beyond fucked f stops beyond photography teaching money making institutes in the name of photography collecting loot light and shade shadows silhouette highlights soundless ruminatively mute a path she takes 'she reroutes the color chart ' the angle of confusion she refutes she is marziya shakir born in humility your blessings her gratitude one thing i definitely taught her was not to make her a celebrity or media photographer with fucked attitude to be humble to what she shot never neve…
certifying caricatured life in street moodiness as it strikes the brain visuals eating into the soul resurfacing on the flesh of hope and humanity as karmic pain man in chains wherever he goes his pain remains a bleeding sorrow as it strains memories demystified as blood stains unreal pretentiously pedestrian all in vain like a stream of urine gushing down the drain searching for self beyond the insane in the valley of doom atomic rain mans destiny doomed inane
Its time for me to clear the mystery of the man Marziya shot at our house.
His name is Kalicharan he is from Aligarh and is a professional masseur , he comes in place of my regular masseur Bhura also from Aligarh but on an extended holiday , he has kept Kalicharan to take care of his clients till his absence.
Both Bhura and Kalicharan are migrants who eke out a living they stay near Mumbadevi and cater to the businessmen who visit Mumbai for trade .
Kalicharan was quite shocked when Marziya took my camera and took this shot totally on target , he wants a framed copy to show to his family back home.
when Bhura comes back from his long leave Kalicharan will not call me or approach me this is part of their professional ethics.
As I am not Kalicharan regular client , but when Kaicharan goes on leave Bhura will take charge of them.
when he gets kicked around when he gets fucked around by reality than day dreams come to his aid in the slithering moments of his sleep he gets beautifully laid an angel behind the mirrored glass her memories cannot fade the pillow talk the love bites the nibbling each time she went down a tumescent thought forbade he pleaded he begged he felt betrayed his guilt reflecting in her heavenly eye shade her naked body nubile taut she displayed the bar dancer bar maid on his zenitude her fragrance her muskiness overstayed this was the first woman who he fucked without having paid soft silky like suede a moment prolonged delayed
she was a seal packed virgin pure pristine undiluted fine till she got conned by a smoothing talking hulk she met on facebook online he took her on the rocks off carter road legs spread supine he forcibly frantically entered her mound on a far reaching incline a moment i hate to define woman cursed doomed riches in a gold mine a passage of pain pathos blood etched on a dotted line than he disappeared leaving behind memories of his child she a single mother will have to bring it up offline every night she spends crying as time over the rocks goes flying crucified by the lust of man sexually manipulated by his lying the flesh was willing the soul is muted slowly silently dying
with every edict against the hijab your racist hate alone good governance employment is more important than playing to the gallery on your own for your original sin of omission commission dont ask the muslim ' woman to atone banning the hijab the chador the burkha the head scarf tears on a wizened cheekbone a garment of modesty a muslim womans traditional garb will live forever beyond your tombstone though god give you a long life wisdom your presidency a milestone you have created a name in history to your seat of power may you always be enthroned a nuns habit smirks in the aisle mocking truth beyond the unknown the hijab a muslim womans story of determination survival self respect hand made hand sewn '
to keep this monolithic mosque alive hundreds thousands of innocent souls were lost now trying to rebuild it at what cost on the soul of a structure blood of mankind embossed pain dark memories riots on the soul of nation crisscrossed two communities both Indian star crossed let the Hindu brethren built a grand temple of peace hope humanity once and for all let this topic exhaust for the greater glory of a new unborn generation' lets see reality beyond profit and loss collectively living in peace beyond caste color religiosity our Indian ethos away from hate bigotry chaos lets be human be humane send a message across
I have been a victim of the riots I lost my home at Khar Danda and had to start life from scratch.. so I am not just an armchair poet.. yes I sincerely think the Babri mosque was the cause of conflicting emotions that cos…
from the holy waters of the mothers womb connected to divinity held by the soul of the umbilical cord under the shadow of the lord life and death two sides of a blade walking on the edge of a bleeding sword a tower of babble kissing the earthly feet of nimrod a serpent seeking shelter in Aaron s rod humanity fleshy fully flawed the soul of eternity defrauds a tear drop- bears testimony of hope overawed i am the life and the resurrection on a crucifix outlawed
the cut is more important than style whats a face without a smile clothes maketh a man adonis without guile sartorial soliloquy worthwhile you are what you are within the silhouette of your profile enslaved to your lifestyle hope beyond a deleted file man is a product of his senses erectile penile touch and go tactile searching virgins in heaven nubile alert motivational mobile man doomed to a planet in transit in exile slithering serpentine a curse on humanity in the guise of a reptile
an androgynous goddess a transvestite in flight high heel stilettos a love soured online that she went down on me time and again kept calling me a swine hook sinker and line in the beginning the facade of elusive imagery suited me fine a madness entwined than came the parting a vacuous moment hard to define a padded bra slithering panties hung on a clothesline she was a dream imagined not mine a phased out face in a book droplets of wine unfinished candle light dinner on a fateful incline on the pyre of peace to fires consigned
there is a solemn silence at st peter church since you have gone hospitalized at holy family all your friends faces sad sorrowful forlorn the helpless the homeless through your blessings seek a new dawn come back hale heart healthy fully recovered my dearest spiritual mentor fr jaun christian yet human insan
This image has received 1725 views , posted without text I am updating it now as my tribute to the hardcore fans friends well wishers of Advocate Ashish Shelar ..
Advocate Ashish Shelar is an upright man, and though involved in politics he is honest , transparent and clear cut in his views , he does not blow his trumpet, he does not play to the galley and is equally respected by all communities , he has never played the politics of religion and so among his followers and his friends you will find Muslims at grass root levels including creative and business folks like me.
Muslims necessarily dont help Muslims a lesson I learnt the hard way , I recently was faced with insurmountable personal problems at work and at home , i mentioned it to Advocate Ashish Shelar and he went out of his way and helped me without any excuse or reservation speaks volum…
photographers are born not made not manufactured run of the mill a spade is a spade is a spade from the mothers womb they carry the essence of life capturing eternity high grade a talent that no money or glory can trade holistically healing the camera an instrument of peace man made pictures long after the photographer is dead and gone wont fade remembered as memories a future generation of new born photographers they will aid incidentally this is a picture story of marziya shakir 2 year 11 months old youngest photographer in the world on parade in a world of pain she wades shooting the soul of humanity through the nikon d 80 unafraid through your love affection blessings a novice well placed her pictures on redbubble cluster .com on sale life on the streets essayed
namaz that connects us to him a prime thought above all the muezzins call allah ho akbar embedded in the soul of his wall grand and tall he is there our provider our guardian each time we fall omnipresent omniscience all in all creator engineer of all good things big and small humility humanity the core essence of a reality that makes you tall a power of hope sees nothing evil befalls from a tiny speck of dust beauty evolves all your problems instantly solves
we bow to allah lord god of all showing you the path marziya the doll
once upon a time he was looked upon endearingly as the hope of humanity all in all connecting the wide world with postcards aerogrammes ` making it small than came the computer the internet hot mail g mail yahoo mail fucked it all cut of his balls a testicular tragedy a eunuchs call like humpty dumpty a very great fall where there is a mouse who needs to scrawl honeymooning in the waters of goa thanks to the rainfall match making match fixing is cricket why play football sweet nothings melodiously echoed on her facebook wall it is not height or grandeur but humility that makes you tall
Thank You Uncle Renie Ranvin, originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1. Marziya Shakir 2 Year 11 Months Old is the Youngest IndiBlogger till date from the womb of photography into the soul of a blog not a very long wait shooting briliantly with a Nikon D 80 hope is humanity she states
pedagogic pompous pedantic kick ass photographers she berates with her vision her inner sight a street photographer her destiny awaits
Sometimes the departed soul beckons people to share the pain of the people he loved and people he has left suddenly on a journey across the shores , a journey we all will inevitably take one day..
As I carry a camera on my person always I shot these pictures without flash and discreetly , without getting into anyone's way.. or disturbing the sanctity of a decisive moment called Death..and its Aftermath.
Chautha is the four day prayer meet after the human soul is cremated..it was performed at 366 Khatwari Darbar Linking Road Khar.. It was a crowded event unlike the funeral service at Oshiwara I shot to ,, and posted at Flickr. I shall include them in this set .
This is my new set at Flickr of the Chautha of late Mr Keshu Ramsay I shot about 89 pictures ,, I normally shoot wide but I used a telly this time the new lens is a gift from a well wisher who is a …
i never knew i would give up drinking an old monk a bitter alcoholic locked up in a glass bottle as i drank my life away till i met you by chance to kick my habit you showed me a more intoxicating way you gifted me the vision that has made me a street photographer today you taught me to read light on faces dying burning away half lit shadows silhouettes of slithering silence that haunt and stay of hungry beggar kids holding the mothers nipple that was bleeding eaten away dry scorched demystified milkless wordless mind play you gave me a gift that in all humility i have bequeathed to marziya shakir my 2 year 11 month grand daughter who shoots better pictures than me i must say she is my guru unteaching the art of unlearning photography in a way blind folded she shoots darkness captures spectral light praising his glory his essence his omnipresence through the camera an …
her eyes covered by a cloth blindfolded she shoots a born photographer her surroundings the darkness with a spectral light she loots she stands tall without high heel boots humility the core essence of street photgraphy on the soul of human consciousness bears fruits old pagan rules of the Renaissance masters F****d F stops she refutes a grandfather a grand daughter a lyrical duet pictorial pursuits flying without wings only cowards need parachutes