Tuesday, May 4, 2010

What You Dont Have You Cant Flaunt

looking at
haughty women
flat chested
she loves to taunt
if you dont
have content
why use font
ogling her world
in a restaurant
by her agony aunt
you are her need
she is your want
go take a hike
come for a jaunt

Sabrina the Queen of Hearts

a pin prick
she will bust
she is hot
she is sexy
she can be worst
with what she has
she will quench '
your thirst
only nerving
those that
come first

a pond of sexuality 'where the soul gets immersed

A Lady at The Polling Booth

A Lady Waiting to Cross The Street

Two Ladies Discussing The Burqa Ban in Belgium

New Fashion Hits The Streets

the hijab
is always in the news
being a famous
garment of
to the french
it has been
it is now
a new fashion
what the deuce
a garment to enthuse
a sexless garment
the new one
inspired by the hijab
with panache
neither too tight
or loose
a garment
beyond abuse
wear it at parties
without excuse
one size fits all
any color you
a garment
to end gender war
a garment
of peace and truce
a garment
to confuse
i would suggest go
for the beige or the blues
invented by
bollywoods most wanted
designer label rare
reviews was first designed
for my transvestite muse
her chastity my virtue

The Rival Dons Rickshah At the Police Cemetery

The message is clear you get fucked if you mess with the New Don or his favorite informer and this rickshah has been badly punished and you can see its pathetic condition..the ricksha is lying at the police cemetery on Bandra Hil Road ..the police stopped a lady from lighting some agabattis and a placing a garland of flowers...

Indians are very superstitious by nature..and I was later told the lady in question was one of informer Bhais countless paramours..she thought the ricksha had saved his life and wanted to idolize it her way...

What The New Don Did To The Rival Dons Rickshah

New Don Hyder Don means business when he came to know about the dastardly and bastardy attack on the life of his favorite informer he was mad and furious , he took out out his silver sedan , and along with his body guards caught up with the rickshah attackers near Carter Road they were coolly having naryal pani and New Don smashed the rickshah of the Rival Don hurling all the Ma Ki and Bahen ki galis ..

The attackers were lucky they ran for the lives ...

So my stores may not be cinematic but they have the same impact you can call this sequence Chase 2...

New Dons Informer Gets A New Life

He was flung quite a distance by the rival dons goons they cut throough St Martins Road and fled , luckily informer bhai moved with alacrity and cunning skill , he fell on my side of the road , the moment he saw me he smiled , I asked him he if he was hurt , he answerd Sahab Yeh To Zindagi Ka Khel Hai..Jeena yhan marana yahan iske siwa jana kahan..and he saluted me and rushed though Chinchpokli Road Bandra..

I knew if had died New Don would have lost a great resourceful foot soldier..

How The Rival Don Wants To Eliminate The New Dons Informer

I have already told you guys about Hyder Dons favorite informer , he keeps the New Don informed of the activities of the rival don , and this is an open attack on the crippled informer , the goons of the rival don wanted to crush him under the wheels of the rickshah on Bandra Hill Road and informer bhai got a second new life ..

And when Hyder Don came to know about this attack he was furious and what he did to the rickshah you will see in my picture story next..

And after informer Bhai escaped Death I caught up with him on the other side of the road..

The Shepherd Has Lost His Sheep

he told his chosen ones
to take care of them
a promise he thought
they would keep
but his chosen ones
throttled their necks
in their sleep
so freshly bleeding
on the crucifix
jesus weeps
castrated vows
hidden in a
pathos and passion
of a cassock
on garbage heap

Divided In Love

we were once
fused as one
but destiny
divided us
his will be done
now we are two halves
with a daughter and two sons
she became a religious
teacher i a poet
on the run
street poems on
the soul of images
i have spun
a dichotomous passion
son of a bitch
son of a gun

The Kiss of Despair

whats his pain
you will never know
through my poetry of life
his sorrow flows
is he weeping
for a mother
who is no more
his pain
with hope
i could
not restore
life is rising falling
getting up
than hitting the floor
the best mentor
life a open book
no one reads anymore
funereal silence in every
book store
online all indoor
chatting on facebook
into her boudoir
a green light
that comes on
you cannot ignore
if you have not been
on this trip you
wont get the score

Jailed For Life

she has locked me up forever
she was far too smart and clever
i was passionately in love
with her as ever
she was a goddess
i revered
my pain my tragic
life with more despair favored
i have deleted her
from my fucked consciousness
her thoughts drive me wayward
sufferings topped and flavored

A Blog Demystified

The two naughtiest kids their father owns this bread and provision stall they live at the slums at the back..they have one passion besides creating a havoc where they go, they want to be photographed , and though they are naughty they are good kids..we were naughty too when we were their age and I shoot them as I see them , and you see them as I saw them..these are ordinary kids ordinary situation but who really has time to see them or shoot them.

We like manipulated scenes , manipulated poses and postures ..I shoot reality I shoot my childhood and yours too.. this is the essence of street photography a science of reading raw human emotions without text books.

Street photography is street poetry , the chaos the cacophony you reproduce , on the viewers soul and yours too if you are a street poet like me.

I can write a poem here within seconds but sometimes poetizing prose is a better option.

These kids are the heroes of my slum blogs I shoot them without complaining, they look different to me everyday .

Sometimes I want to shoot the interiors of their dwellings to show you how they live in cramped quarters and though this is a slum it is on premium land mind you..

The mornings it is two things the call for Namaz and the call for filling water two important aspect of survival for body and soul.

Than the long line and wait, the smell of defecation , near the common toilet..the hurry the squabbles the banging at the door if the guy is doing more than jut shitting his blues away..

Festival times in the slums are fun ..feasts marriages and birth.

Death in the slums hits everybody .. even the person who thinks he will never dies..rightfully so as his wife his children have predeceased him.

So now you know why a photo blog is different from an article in a newspaper you live life of another man , and you dont need wings to to live life king size as he does.

And you dont have to pay me Rs 5 to see my world or the world I shoot it will live long after I am dead and gone unless my children delete my account at Flickr and deactivate my life on Facebook..

The Kashmiri Beggars in Mumbai

inhospitable conditions
heat and humidity '
they bear
into their eyes
people stare
life has not been fair
whether it is
the kashmiri pandit
or the kashmiri beggar
caught in lifes whirlpool
unending nightmare
as a photographer
i shoot pain and god
who wont answer
their prayer
in humility
the ethos
of human pain
i share
burning within
burning without
me my barefeet
missing footwear
a broken fence
called kashmiryat
those on the top
are not
willing to repair
more than
a few coins
they need
love compassion
to heal their
their welfare
but words of hope
that declare
you are not
just kashmiris
but indians
as indians
we care

Am Ke Am Gutli Ke Dam

hi karte hain
ka katle am

muslims love killing muslims
a thought which is true
hate for one sect
by another sect grew
peace and brotherhood
from the nation of islam
head bowed withdrew
bloodshed misplaced
martyrdom came
shedding tears over
blood splattered skull caps
another masjid they blew
a collective eunuch silence
they watch but what
can they do
they have to protect
their oil wells
their checkered
scarved ethos
their banana republics
make a scapegoat
of an american or a jew
imperialistic hegemony
some more hate spew
finally it is humanity
they all screw
on the soul of mankind
another suicide bomber
makes his debut

optional title

Muslims love killing Muslims

Empty Pots Make The Mostest Noise

on the internet
some people
love to fuck
some people
a fact we know
till you block them
they wont go
their egos
with fucked
up comments
their pseudo 'knowledge
they love to show
your pictures
of the beggars of the hijras
of the naga sadhus
of bloodshed
they see with
raised eyebrows
they maybe racists
shia baiters
indian haters
their trumpets
they always
love to blow
they maybe white
brown black
a masked
their hate
they pour
i have blocked
at flickr
an option
i wont restore
importance to
your comments
on my post
not any more
empty pots make
the mostest noise
a thought you
never thought before

only comments on facebook from my friends i respond and dont ignore

Even When I am Broke I am never Short of Change ..
coins of words in exchange even when i sleep and snore

Falling In Love Was The Greatest Mistake

Transvestites Tale Part 3

locked up remorse
misery give and take
the woman i loved
the woman i thought
was a woman
was totally fake
falling in love
with a transvestite
was the greatest mistake
although i have deleted her
from my fucked
many a nights she
keeps me awake
humping my sorrow
the continuous
back ache
luckily we parted
without a
golden hand shake
last heard
she was shacking up
with an Arab milk sheikh
how can love be so opaque
after it is over still
gives a headache

The Hindu and the Muslim Share A Cup

reminiscing the days of peace
love mutual coexistence
in this lane
where they had grown up
they had no problems
even during the 93 riots
when the entire city
with Hindu Muslim hate
was almost smashed up
they were brothers
living together
different ideologies
nothing could shakeup
they were Indians first
a thought they never gave up
today sharing a cup
of tea a bond that
no enemy could break up

The Transvestites Tale Part 2

groaning moaning
grapes are sour she said
than going down between his legs
she gave him head
almost biting
of his warhead
her hopes crumpled
on his bed
he lay looking at the dark
hole in the ceiling
pretending he was dead
all this in the neighbors
cow shed
seeing this passion play
of kindred emotions
the cow and the bull
had both fled
the bull horny as hell as
the cow was bleeding red
stepping on gas
charging all ahead

She Beckons Me Once Again

125,123 items / 884,057 views

she once caused me a lot of pain
i have deleted her
from my fucked consciousness
she beckons me once again
our relationship
that time had strained
for she had left me fallen
in love with a dick brained
she kicked him out
she explained a piston
before it could start work
got prematurely drained
dysfunctional untrained
bulbous fat thick veined
her soul seminally stained
so she complained red eyes
tear stained
a cosmic poet fucked
by the poetry of life
birdbrained blow after blow
on his soul she rained

Life is a Long Walk That Never Ends

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between one world and another world
your life in motionless suspension
your angst your tension
honorary mention seeking
your destiny's attention
necessity is the mother
of all invention a game of love
with good intention

to dinshah sanjana
my childhood friend

The Grand Daughters Pledge

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she may
or may not
be a photographer
a bet i
wont hedge
but she shoots
equally well
with her
camera eyes
a grand daughters
the streets
of despair
on a razors edge
hidden emotions
of poor muslim
beggar women
she can dredge

The Slum Kids Future In Her Eyes

what was she trying
to read through
my camera eye
she shot my soul
as it uttered a sigh
wingless flapping
side to side
a soul
that could not fly
peace i could borrow
but happiness
i could not buy
into the inner depth
of my angst
my anguish
my fear my despair
she did pry
the stitched
silence of my lips
was my only reply
as a trembling tear
fell from my eye
my body mortgaged
would be free once i die

This is the only Time I saw my Death in a Child's Eye

What Does The Future Say !

snakes and ladders
they play in the slums
every day sometimes
they are on top
sometimes below
passing their time away
they dont know
what they will be
when they grow up
but yes they will be
a part of the formidable
future of my country one day
a politician a policeman
an army-man a lawyer
a teacher an actor they say
but alas they dont want to be
a street photographer
in the long run it does not pay
for once they were right all the way
i smiled head bowed sadly walked away

to rajiv soni
my dear friend from delhi

The Jain Sadhvi

I am fascinated with the life the self sacrifice of the life of the Jain Sadhvi or the Jain Nun , and so I shoot them to you their spiritual fulfillment through austerity ..

They have come to terms with life they have renounced on to take up another threshold of a life under the auspices of the teachings of Lord Mahaveera.

Through these pictures shot on the street I show you a quest and a poetry of life..