Tuesday, July 6, 2010

Ramazan Ali and Me At The Imambada

Taragadh is a Shia citadel, and is visited by most of the Shia Maulanas and Alims and scholars.


The Moharam here is very famous , and most of the people around here though influenced by Sufism are praactising Shias.

Ramzan Ali my host is highly connected in politics and is a member of Congress I.

He offered me breakfast , and was very kind to me I was totally drenched climbing Targadh barefeet and had removed my Tshirt such was my state as it was absolutely hot and humid.

This Imambada belongs to Ramzan Alis land lord.

Most of the stuff at the Imambada , has come as Tabaruk from Karbala Iraq.

Gondi Miracle Tree of Taragadh

Those who have been married for a long time dont have children come and tie a challa here a spiritual request that I am told is always fulfilled.

Barren women come here in hordes.

1,000,028 views on my Flickr pictures in three years...

The Barefeet Blogger Of Mumbai

My Burning Barefeet Taragadh 2010

Breaching the Wall of Fate

134,530 items / 998,842 views

this time i was not late
punctually i was at her gate
but she made me wait
she was caught in the
throes of her handsome date
i felt she was not my
right soul mate
love hooker line and bait
breaching the wall of fate

Closed Doors of My Fate

I could have had love
but I was late
she found someone
better than me
endlessly she could not wait
the story of my destiny
no further debate
the flesh was willing
the soul celibate
i now seek alms
at another good
Samaritans gate
a thin wall
of distrust
between her love
her hate

What Does The Muslim Boy See

through the venetian blind of life
what does the Muslim boy see
sectarian strife Muslims killing
Muslims mercilessly
destroying Shia mosques
Sufi shrines on the soul
of Islam what agony
eunuch silence
prevails in
the community
as another devout
misguided
human missile
once again
gets ready to
destroy
humanity
Allah Ho Akbar
the call for prayers
getting blown up
finally
bleeding scriptures
weeping Koranic verses
bodies burnt mangled
a mother cries
silently
from the clutches
of enslaved society
her young son
is finally free

a poem captured wordlessly
some call it photography

The Muslim Beard in the News

catching
mulims
with long beards
a new pastime
a new excuse
to amuse
the muslim
beard in
the news
racial profiling
racist abuse
for once
try to put
yourself
in the victims
shoes
see his inner hurt
his inner bruise
hurting his
religiosity
of what use
weapons
of mass destruction
are not muslim beards
but your empty heads
dont confuse
let us follow
peacefully a path
we choose
a terrorist
can be beardless
clean shaven
so lets live amicably
hindus muslims
christians and the jews

The Muslim Mans Beard Is Supposed to Be A Weapon of Mass Destruction By Cops

Back to Taragadh

I continue with my Taragadh trek barefeet shooting the soul of humanity at the feet of Man.

22 Rajjab at My House

Today the Shias celebrate the death of accursed Mauwiyah with a feast called 22 Rajjab or Kunde Ke Nazar.

The Rains in Mumbai

The lady beggar sits near the cross and this is a passage kind of lane , a short cut for pedestrians and two wheelers.


The lady beggar does her rounds of begging and parks herself here.

Once the beggar boy and his guardian sat here they have completely disappeared .

Such is the itinerant nomadic transitional life of beggars.

Very few photographers shoot beggars , but as a poet I shoot the poetry of a beggars life.

I know rich peoples kids one stroke of bad luck were thrown out into the mean streets.

Drugs alcohol races gambling as vices have reduced many a rich man to penury.

The beggars that are employed by beggar mafias are easily recognizable and work at pilgrim joints.

Beggars like this lady are defenseless live from hand to mouth.

Mostly they come from Murshidabad in West Bengal.

One thing even school kids who pass her by give her a few coins from their days pocket money.

I shoot stills moving pictures of human degradation and human pain to remind you of Apocalypse Now.


And Marziya sees the world as I see it from my inner soul, I passed the Umbrella Lady and I did not have my camera I gave Marziya Rs 10 ..without instruction and though the ground was soggy she walked and handed it over to the Umbrella lady.


Yes I have prematurely exposed my grand daughter to street life and pain....shown her something even her parents would have not shown her a chapter from the book of the living dead.


I may not live long but yes my vision rests with a two and a half year old intuitive child.

Marziya began shooting with my soul before she learnt to use the Nikon D 80..

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