Saturday, March 20, 2010

Main Aur Tuh

ki boo
ek hi rooh
hubaahu iske
main kya kahoon

a thought
that secretes
me to you
a failed tear
a drop of dew
on the soul
of my misfortune
like a wart it grew
yes i am sculpted
sorrow in sand
old and new
dust to dust
ashes to ashes
that the wind blew
rusty soul of iron
fetid blood sinew
pehchaano mujhe
main yeh
sab kuch hoon
teri rooh
meri rooh
kya main shia
kya tu hindoo
a religiosity too

to shivani shakir

Main Insaan Hoon

jungle jaisa
aur insaniyat
she pareshan hoon
main insaan hoon
pal pal main
haivan hoon
waqt ka bhula
hua akida aur
iman hoon
main kachra
kuda aur ghan hoon
kabhi akela
kabhi khandan hoon
sach ko jhoot
jhoot ko sach
kar denewala
balidan hoon
chand lamhon
ka mehman hoon

The Fall From Grace

the skies
into the gutter of life
he fell on his face
the last vestige
of his doomed race
fucked forever
between mind and space
whatever he touched
destroyed without trace
his history full of deceit
pain remorse misery
he embraced
the womb
his tomb
his birthplace

Hussain Tekri Holistic Healing Spot

Segment 1
Hussaintekri Jaorah is considered a Shia Holy site, story goes that a miracle had taken place here , that made this a destination for those who were seeking peace and spiritualiy.Please note very important all these rituals tha you see are performed by the Non Shias, mostly Hindu folks, Sunnis , the Shia abhor this kind of spirtualism completely .The Shias believe in Ahle Bait , seek succour , seek blessings.But keep a distance from what happens in the name of posssession, exorcism, however there might be a few who might be ensnared by ths instant holistic healing.I have shot pictures depicting a reality that is publically at display for all to see.In places like this you get fraudsters,con artists, my pictures are an aspect of photo journalism, my genre is pain, enduring pain blood and faith.On Chehlum day , the 40th day of Hazrat Imams Martydom, there is a procession called Zari , scourgings, matams majlis everything connected with Shiasm.
Also the Ag ka Matam, the longest fire ramp where thousands Shias walk on fire , photography is strictly prohibited, after the Shias finish the walk, all the mentally disturbed, the possessed , walk this fire ramp.I walked this too with the was an experiennce of a lasting life time.
I thought this disclaimer was very important so as not to hurt relgious sensibilities unintentinally.
I shall call this Segment 1 Non Shia Ritualism.

This was a sad frightening state of Man , he reminded me of his ancestors the simian variety in the jungles of Africa.
Vulnerable , two legged endangered specie , unprotected , fair game , hunted for his rare ingenuity , hunted by his own kind.
Man a creature a preacher a teacher.
Man wise and a fool.
Man who sits on a Tree of Doom slowly silently cutting away the branch that he is precariously perched on.
Yes Man ribbed to his mate the Woman.
Both armed with intelligence dangerous.
Between these two parallel lines lies the Hijda the Transgender the Eunuch.
The human race is amazingly at crosss ends on one side it elevates celibacy , eunuched priests , the other end the hijda or the eunuch is condemned , kept at arms length.Mans entire history is built on a body part that has everything power to exxagerate,power to ignite ,power to excite , power to reproduce , the human penis worshipped and hidden away before it causes more harm.
Mans story of survival , is Mans story of his brainless Cock.

Some call it Ling...yes soundlessy it does Sing ,sometimes happiness sometimes destruction it brings.
The womans story of her gender is a vaginal monologue making love is well that is a seminal dialogue .
This being a segment that will be visited by many I will harness my imagination.Mans downfall has been his obssession with body parts ..the biggest money generating kids corrupting, Porn.
Man he needs a Doctor.
Man who has no sickness but creates all of them by destroying infecting poson in his own environment than sends millions searching for a cure.
Man is prose poetry.
Man prose unending poetry.
These were thought I am slaughtered with on seeing this visual, I have posted the entire series of this Man who descrates Nature ,yet covers himself with mud camoflging his pain to become one with Nature.
Yes the Photo Blog has a greater power and mastery over mere photographs.
The photo blog gives you a bit more than a picture.
It gives you the essence of Life.
It makes you a writer even if you are limbless and cant hold a pen.
Yes a photo blog million light years advanced than moden finger fucked photo jounalism.
Yet each morning Main Sream media moghuls , their paid asslicking lackeys await the passing away of the photo blog... yes it will passs away into another state of self evolevment.
The Photo Blog .
Thank you Brandon Stone.
The photo blog, not going down under the photo editors desk, having him come in the hyperbolic cavernous hollows of your mouth in oxymoron haste ...
Yes think Flickr think ..
every armour has
a chink
from a a page of one human sorrow
to an unhappening tomorrow we link
amrut laced with cyanide we drink
no we dont die...we just drown resurface and sink
we macho men with inner wear colored pink
we dont bat our battered eyelids
fuck we just blink
some homeless
tattered clothes
some wear mink

This is a start in the life of a photoblogger unwashed repressive , unwashed ungargled gibberish that will soon stand up and be counted as a fool s words of untooth brushed wisdom.
Yes loving makes you a writer provided you know how to love the unscaleabe twin peaks, the unreachable pages of her blockedmind, yes American Blog Goddess and falling in love with her spin win situation.

The Human Mound of Despair

I have come home from my shop, I take the Insulin shot on my speckled opinionated ass, the shot is given with a vengeance by my wife.
Beneath my feet are in a bucket of water to clean them with antiseptic, I have stopped going bare feet since two months.
Here in the picture is a person sunbathing his sins, this is Hussaintekri Jaorah, it scares the Shias who are not used to all this as , this exorcising practice takes place at Sufi Dargahs .The Shias are not into Dargahs .Though they go to the Shrines of Shaheede E Saalis and a recently discovered Shia Saints grave in Patiala.

These Shrines of Shia Saints the Ahle Bait are under the administration of the Sunnis , so it has got a Sufi slant.
Hordes of poor Hindus, dalits untouchables demarginalzed come here for purifying themselves.This is a very depressing place ,here women roll on the floor from one Shrine to the other Shrine , totally unaware of pain , its a vow that along with the assistance from a relative they complete it...

I am updating this post today 20 March 2010

this world a vanity fair
the poor their sins bare
with god their street side
humility share
on the human mound
of despair
those who see them
fuck they care
oppressive pain
suppressive fear
possessed souls
seeking release
from the devils snare
even the devil
has no time
to spare
his followers
being exorcised
from their nightmare
the devils stump tree
their chopped hair
unoiled machinery
of a soul
that cant be repaired
hollows as eyes
their blank stare
hussaintekri jaorah
holistic healing
on the wings of prayer

this is for glenn losack

A Blogger Caught In a Fishermans Net

washed ashore
at murud janjira
partly dry
partly wet '
a blogger
in a fisherman's net
who hates
fucked sunsets
6848 links
at facebook
on the outset
a fragmented
fucked mind
his only asset
i have deleted
her from
my fucked
my lady love
i cannot forget
by creditors
life a total debt
blood tears and sweat
you telecom
that keeps me afloat
on the internet
poems blogs
seeking an outlet
created on
the wisdom seat
of her blue toilet
a sword in the hand
playing Russian roulette

A mound called man

on the soul of humanity
a mound called man
the place
where god
found man
a deep rooted tree
on a ground called man
silence reverberating
a deafening sound called man
a bleeding head a hope
a messiah crowned man
man shipwrecked man
a calamity drowned man
despair misery hate love
failure success
an unfucked story going
round and round man

Buried Alive Hussain Tekri Jaorah

Coming To Terms With Life

Buried Alive Hussain Tekri Jaorah

A Son Suffers for his Fathers Sins

He is buried in the mud, he will remain like this till evening , maghrib, he said I was mocking his penance by taking his pictures.I told him politely I wanted share his pain with others who , lived in pain, alleviating it in a different way.But he liked me, I was human, not a journo, I as a poet felt his pain as it touched me lyrically .I felt sorry for his son, who sat by his father collecting the few coins people threw at him..
Funny it takes just a coin t kill a mocking bird.
This wasa Buzznet featured photo...I doubt if I will ever go back to Hussain Tekri Jaorah, I try not to visit the city that I touch during Moharam,to add a newer one instead.I dont know where I will be I have not seen Iraq Iran or Damascus .
I will never visit Saudi Arabia where Shia spirtuality is under house arrest..
I am not at all a fan of Wahabbi thought per se...
For me Karbala is a heart beat...a cosmic reality of my Indian soul.
Coming to Flickr too, I think was pre ordained ,
My pictures live and breathe in the consciousness of your souls emulsion...unsepia stained...I moved away from I talk News but a few comments of a person endeared to my stories and pictures wrote this on my profile page that I copy here.
Her name is Janeabao , she is from Phillipines.

janeabao Fri Jun 15 17:47 MST
Where were you educated? It is very rare for photographers to have a good grasp of the language. You have both art and science in your work.

janeabao Fri Jun 15 19:48 MST
You make a very interesting member in this site. I am glad you didn't leave as you first intended. I am learning much from you.

[3] RE:2, posted by janeabao on 06/19/2007 01:33
(1) (0) | Reply to This

I had enjoyed your different approaches in writing and looking at things. Somewhere, somehow, you may be able to find the right site for you. The world is wide and big but we can always meet. If you cannot stay then, farewell.

Its very rarely you meet like minded soul mates on the cyberspace , that forms mutual respect adhering situation.
Actually I am not as agile flying from one web site to the other , if you click Hijdas ,Shias Sufis Naaga Sadhus, eunuch poetry, blog goddess , shia pandit, shia thug you will be thrown on my page at Word Press.Even cock as a search penetrates the silence of my webpage through Google Search.If you search for do you like it, mujra, eunuch, prostitute , you wont be able to get rid of me...even Flicker refugee is a popular tag connected to Photographer no1.
I quit Buzznet Refugee.
I am afloat on a raft at Buzznet as Shia Thug No1 sailessly sailing out of the silence of her heart..Please dont click on Firoze Shakir you will end up on Friar Tucks page ...Firoze Shakir is synonmous with what Aussies call Fuck wit...fucking wit you remain childless without becoming a father to 23 kids who all look like the neighbour hood cricket team..both sides and a refree to beat...

Possession Exorcism and Penance

I have Matam pictures of this trip, street photography, but what fascinated me was the people over the hill, out of their senses,terminal cases,what hurt was not the mindlessness of the possessed person but his or her loved ones bearing the brunt..
The largest crowds of this possessed people were at the Shrine of Hazrat Abbas or the Shrine of Hazrat Ali..I will describe it through pictures.At 5 pm at the Shrine was Loban time this is frankincence the fumes of this would drive the possessed into frenzy..
The strength that came over them was out of this planet , I have seen guys smash their heads on the heavy iron doors no pain.. I saw a guy who was transformed into a serpent , he was human but his movements on the floor like a snake..he was quite angry when I fired my flash, you might think I am kidding , these are about 4 yeard old pictures, I had just bought the Nikon D70 he stopped my just went dead , I bought it to Mumbai gave it to the Nikon technicians Interfoto paid Rs 90000, I have the receipt..
You guys will think I am pulling a fast one, but there so much negative energy here that I cant tell you in words.I have awareness because of my Sufi mind control, but I wont say much
.Now to the picture , this is my last post for th night.This is a sewer pond, urine shit all the scum enters here from the bursting at the seams community lavatory ..the people in the pond are all possessed , in various stages , they dont eat drinks they are are in a stage of living dead..some have buried themselves alive in the muck, only the holes for the nostrils to inhale...
They are total zombies.. many have been left here in a zone of no return by their own relatives, they are nameless , just living..people throw money at them.. the stink here is bad, photography well it is at your own risk...There is more these are total 7 Cds ..I start this set with ritualism,raw gut tearing inhumanity..This s the largest holistic mental hospital,some go back cured, there is another one in Gujrat called Meena Datar at Unjha , I hope to visit one day.
Yes you are right there was this urge to remove my clothes jump into this muck, lie next to them.. to try to feel what they were feeling, but my looks my black long djellabas had me famous for the wrong reasons, young urchins followed me where ever I went..I was alone this was my first and last time..
I was later .warned with dire consequences for shooting them..
I was not allowed to shoot at the loban time..All the Shrines are run by the Sunnis...
This was a royal estate once upon a time ..under the Nawabs of Jaorah..

Cosmic Poet Choked on the River Bend

This was another case of possession , I was reading this morning they have a St John the Baptist Feast in Phillipines people cover themselves with mud , a kind of Catholic penance...

zindagi ka zehar
ghol ghol
kar peete hain hum
isi bahane
mar mar kar
jeete hain hum
behte hue pani
main behta hai gham
yad ko bhulane ki
main na jane
kitne sitam
tumhari chahat
ne hame barbad kiya
yeh nahi jante te hum

Doomed Despair

Slightly out of focus , but I show you pain through body language...

main janta
sab ko
tuh sab ko pale
lekin main
ho gaya hoon barbad
mujhe upar uthale
meri zindagi
pe mandra rahe
hain badal kale
meri phooti kismet
pe lage hain tale
ab main karta hoon
meri akhri sas
tere hawale

I wrote the words now and the pain of his living death is very much alive..he had totally given up hopes and there was no streak of saving grace around..

Shrine of Hussain Tekri was built by the Nawab of Jaora, Mohammad Iftikhar Ali Khan Bahadur, in the 19th century. It is situated at Jaora in Ratlam District of Madhya Pradesh. Mohammad Iftikhar Ali Khan Bahadur has been buried in the same graveyard where Hussain Tekri was buried. In the month of Moharram thousands of people visit the place to pay their respect.

Jaora is 32 km off the main Ratlam Railway Station and to the northwest of Madhya Pradesh. The nearest airport is at Indore.

Childhood Woes

confusion chaos
as she grows
unending unbending
childhood woes
as she succumbs
to lifes blows
crossing her fingers
crossing her toes
aggravated animosity
is all she knows
a challenging thought
as it flows
even her best friends
have become her foes
being born a girl
is a curse
I suppose
her future
at the mercy of
vultures and crows
benign male
dominated society
in deep repose

A Childs World

Hussain Tekri Jaorah..

A childrens world
within a world
of pain
a mantra
that heals
in the name
of hussain

The Devils Stump Tree

Hussain Tekri Jaorah..I am updating this set, I sometimes wonder what if I had not shot all this, this was not part of my curriculum..I had come to shoot Chehlum and nothing else but because I am a street photographer I shot a canvas of pain.

I am a poet too
this space was blank
like the blankness in
a brain dead
persons mind
at hussain tekri jaorah
a spiritual hospital
of tortured souls you find
the lowest of the lowest
fucked mankind
those with eyes
more fucked
than the blind
to the fires of hell
on earth consigned
pain misery morbidity
on the streets of despair
the devils stump tree
death and doom
man mans mind
both maligned
a tale of sorrow
on your soul

The Wild Orchid

She has become one with my camera, she knows I know it,,she with her innocence her photogenic quality has arrested the magic mechanism of my camera, my camera is under her control .I am at her bidding.
The backdrop is as it was no cropping , no curves no levels, nothing .
Shoot me as I am she said .
Use your heart dont use your head
Be gentle be careful
her thoughts on my soul did tread
her shyness , her brashness she did shed

I took this picture went ahead
her lipstick crimson red ..
a wild orchid with no dread.

My India A Wonder Of the World.

India the country of my Birth is not a land with just specific borders , it is an everlasting emotion, you have to breathe it to live it. The Taj Mahal is only one of the wonders of the World , my country in its complexity , in its good bad and ugly is in itself a wonder of the world.
This is country that gave went on giving.
Even today it gives all its brains to America Uk , Australia New Zealand..Indian man an export quality never goes out of supply even if there is no demand.
India is lyrical sound , a teardrop that never dries, India is a poem , also an epic..India is not just the Himalayas , India is congested Mumbai train travel , India is Ganga.. India is Jamuna too..
India is alive even in the breath of a Man who lives far away from India..
India is a state of Mind and a state of Mindlessness too.

LIfe is a Fucked Bed of Thorns

He is in a poetic reverie beyond the pain of the thorns, here at Hussain Tekri Joarah, he pushes himself along with the thorns, his legs are inflicted with goes on.
He has a promise to keep life and death both a garbage heap.

life is a fucked
bed of thorns
complain too much
your life's book
gets torn
you leave
behind all your
your possessions
a fucked moment
you are gone
on the fucked
chess board
of life
you are nothing
but a pawn

The Lost World of the Girl Child

What can I say her look bewildered says it all .
She carries the future of her Womanhood on her frail shoulders.
Little Big Hussain Tekri Jaorah

a barbed fence
despair and remorse
woman's childhood
woman's ethos
my frail shoulders
a mutilated cross
on thorns
i have to walk
to get across
i am scared
the future gross
my gain
with my loss
all around me
soundless chaos
pain and passion
bleeding pathos

dedicated to nabina das my facebook friend

Driving Miss Daisy Crazy

His family is sitting at the Shrine his mother is possessed ...

Hussain Tekri is a very sad depressing place it kills you much before you begin to die..and this is not about religiosity or the Holy Shrine replicas , its about the rituals , exorcism and the rampant possessions..that go on here .

Mothers sisters daughters relatives come here to be healed , to be cleansed of the devil within them..and you skeptical as you are would call them nuts..but this is India the underbelly of pain connected to devilry and superstitions..

I am writing or rather updating this post today , emptying out my angst..I wanted to jump into the feces or the sewer pond where madness prevailed , people buried in the sands only to feel what they feel and what you dare no feel.. yes bloggers enter where fucked photo journos fear to tread.. nothing personal.

Many a time I decided to go to Hussain Tekri Jaorah but it never happened I did not want to miss the hardcore Chehlum in Mumbai or elsewhere ..and I shot Hussain Tekri during Chehlum Shia mourning feast connected to Moharam.

This childs mother was possessed and he went about driving Miss Daisy crazy , his mother was in bad shape and worse happens when the Loban ritual take place and the khadims all Sunnis were not taking kindly to my photography.

I never forgot this child nor his mothers pain.

There is one place I will surely go that is Mina Datar Unjha Gujrat where all this happens at a large scale , to my bad luck and I am serious as I write this today on an old post , I fell in love with an American lady photographer , and I thought if I did marry her two wives kind of thing , east and west , as Islam allows polygamy though you call it bigamy because you are stuck to one woman for life, I would shoot all this with my new American wife and had also though of enforcing the hijab on her , she was willing to everything the nikah etc etc but my kids and wife beat the shit out of me and now though I never married the American lady I am still an incorrigible bachelor at heart..

I dream I am in love ..and this figment of love keeps my juices coming no pun intended ..I have a mind but not as dirty as you think.

So blogging is shitting thoughts on empty space of life.,.with no malicious intent ...and I envy Richad Lazzara ..he blogs all over cyberspace .. without relieving his angst as I do for me blogging is also a bodily function as much as a function of the mind..

Sometimes I wonder if I stopped blogging I wont think about it as yet..ha ha
And if you ask me who I emulate as a blogger well it is Shankar Babaji of Colorado Richard Lazzara my best friend on Flickr and Facebook..

He has helped me as I am not very net savvy , he has supported me and today I sent him an Invitation , if he comes to Mumbai I will see that he is accommodated at a Temple near my house and all his vegetarian meals will be cooked by my wife No1...