Thursday, May 20, 2010

Against her trembling door

my fucked feet
burning beneath
the marble
as i languished
outside her
trembling door
but she would
not open it for me
she abused me
she swore
no no more
her frontiers
she would
not allow
me to explore
what i wanted
from her
she told me
go take it
from a street
she was mad
supinely sore
i thought
i would gift
her a pendant
from the jewelry store
add to her body's decor
i told her i pleaded
lets get back to
as were before
she teased me
with her little pink tongue
through the half shut door

A Poor Poets Pledge Under the Shadow of a Rich Mans Love

i told my wife
that i love her
but i told
her i will not build
a marble monument
to mock
my love or humanity
her slave
i shall always be
she has not deleted
me yet from her sane
time to time
she lets me free
provided i do
what i want to do
within the walls
of poetry
love the strangest
human emotion
to be in love or not to be

Let No Woman Put Asunder

“Therefore what God has joined together, let no MAN put asunder [ apart ]” (Matthew 19:6b

a marriage
that was made in heaven
could hardly be a blunder
33 years of fights ups and down
people around wonder
time has lost its thunder
this one woman
i have not deleted
from my fucked
no woman
or man
could put asunder
a pact a pledge
not yet
gone under
so many women
came and went
this sacrosanct
garden of a poets
love could not
to my wife
what belongs
to my wife
i render
but being
a cosmic poet
to the eyes hidden
a veil
as a photographer
i surrender
my heart broken
i come back home
an apology
i tender
i think
the biggest curse
god created was
but why did
he create
a gender

the goddess of beauty
androgynous in her splendor

The India I Shoot Is Not Taj Mahal

what i shoot
you wont find
in a travel brochure
for sure
my india
belongs to
the beggars
the hijras
other untouchables
an india
that endures
an india
a drop
of a tear
in the eye
of the poor
tattered torn
two fucks
for haute couture
but sound solid
their world
not part
of your tour
is as bad
as the cure
with your
dark glasses
sun tan lotions
you wont see
dainty and demure
on the beaches
to satisfy
the white mans
lust they procure

Fearless Faith of Shia Child

A coward race gives birth to a coward child

The shia child is born without fear
Even fear becomes fearless
Seeing the passion of a Shia child
As he scourges his back cuts his forehead
Ya Hussain a Mantra far more dear
In his mothers womb he did endear
The amniotic fluid tears of our race
Words written on water readable
Gloriously clear..
Beneath the flowing blood
A flood of emotions..
72 heads asking for justice
held high on Yazidi spears
our blood our sweat our tears
lanat on the enemies
the killers of Hussain
Sham the snatched chaddars
the snatched ridas
the unashamed taunts and jeers
the ladies of the Holy House
bearing the shame covering the faces
with the tresses of their hair
the mockery the unislamic sneers
a serpent seed yazid his volunteers
breaking down barriers
Arab barbarism as its head rears
Yes we remember 1400 years
Shiasm is a faith
Hussain is Humanity
Beyond all frontiers

child abuse ..shiv malik new statesman a thought comes disappears

Documenting The Soul of Shiasm

I am a Shia I document the angst of the Shia community in India their pain , their austerity during Moharam which is a mourning period of 2 month 8 days.

The Shias mourn the Martyrdom of Imam Hussain the Grandson of the Holy Prophet son of Imam Ali and Princess Fatima whom we call Bibi Fatima.

The blood letting is a protest against Yazidiyat another name for Terrorism which prevailed under Caliph Yazid head of the Ummayad Dynasty.

I am not a religious scholar , I am a photographer who shoots these events and most of them you wont see as non Muslims are not allowed in some places.

See these pictures as an ethos of Shia heritage nothing more nothing less , you dont like it fine , by your adverse views or comments this ritual of blood letting wont stop.. even Yazid could not stop it.. so it shall continue.

I shoot other religiosity which are not part of my spiritual ideology but I respect the people I shoot I dont make fun of them or ridicule them their rituals are part of their ethnicity and mine are as precious to me as part of my Shia ancestry.

This is what separates and Indian Muslim from the rest , we give space , we live in peace with our Hindu or Christian neighbor and tolerance and mutual coexistence is part of our Indianness.

This picture post was blank I am writing this as a disclaimer to my Friends at Facebook..

If you feel uncomfortable move ahead I dont glorify the blood letting but it is part of the spiritual pledge of being a Shia though not necessary you are a Shia even if you don't cut yourself..the bloodletting comes with the territory I love shooting blood gore and pain..this is the genre of my photography and it mostly comes under the aegis of Street Photography or Social documentary...

I am reviving a few of the pictures in this set shot a few years back as photo album on Facebook

apni takdeer jagate hain tere matam se
khoon ki rah bichate hain tere matam se ...
apne izare aqiqat ke salike yeh hai
hum naya sal bhi manate hain tere matam se