Monday, July 26, 2010

The Dead Souls at Rest

135,462 items / 1,029,287 views

away from
spiraling prices
mumbai bandh
match fixing
cricket test
Viva La Espana
Paul the Psychic
a win time and tide
could not arrest

they left behind
everything they had
to family
friends relatives
some here
some in the west
they went away
willingly from
the chaos of life
the unrest
they gave up
their wealth
their worldly quest
they were fed up
badly hatched
eggs in their nest
nestor took to drugs
brian hit the bottle
joe gambled away
his savings
got married
to a street woman
he died penniless
next to them
he rests
the last cry
of the christian
east indian
ethos their
their villas
gave way
to ugly towers
you have
rightly guessed

The Church
render to Caesar
what belongs to Caesar
to Christ
what belongs
to Christ
saw the
but sat safely
on the fence
they simply
did not protest
it was fate
no win win contest
the builder nexus
the politicians
up the gaothan
which when
the CRZ opens
up they

On my trips
to St Peter Cemetery
I often talk
to the sleeping
what you give
is what you get
only tears on the
soul of the Savior
you cannot forget

This poem
their pain
I poetized
on a dead

dedicated to my best friend
Marquis Pets

Once Upon A Time I Tried To Kill Myself In Every Possible Way

135,539 items / 1,034,938 views

i rushed towards
a running train
on the Bandra tracks
but the train shyly
backed away
i tried to jump
from a tall building
but i was caught
by the watch man
half way
up the way
i tried to drown
near old
sea rock
but the tide
was low that day
i tried to drink
tik 20
but my wife
the bottle away
i thought
i would douse myself
light mt soul away
but due to the heavy rains
the match box got wet
my fucked up fate they say
as a last resort
i tried to cut my wrist
to emotionalize my pain
but the knife cut
the wrong artery
on earth i was
doomed to stay
without telling
i hid in a ladies
toilet and tried
to drown myself
in the toilet bowl
i almost succeeded
but the flush chain
gave away

from behind yama
manipulator of life and death
gave me a kick on my ass
why the fuck you call me
you know i am busy
in india always
now go about
dont scare my wits away
your home loan
your credit card payment
your mobile phone bill
your shop rent
money that you took from
friends on a rainy day
your next of kin wont pay
so you have to stay
in transit
till i come again
this way
to those guys
who owe you money
in the industry
too bad
their pictures bomb
every friday
your money
they will never pay
where there is will
the devil finds a way

once upon a time in mumbai
when you were born was once
upon a time in bombay
so try to
live for just another day
go on blogging
the soul of humanity
till your bad times
slog away
shooting pain
but hiding your
own pain
every word
you say

The Unbridgeable Gap of Fate

The Leper Lady Of Bandra Boran Road

Now she too
has disappeared
from the begging scene
maria the leper lady
remains unseen
the tragedy of life
on the streets
wet soggy
muddy unclean
shooting beggars
showing you
their lives
i dont humiliate
insult or demean
i want to ask
you why she
sitting here
will die a pauper
while the politician
who began
his career
in a few years earns
100 crores
is an anomaly
of life i
find obscene
why such
a gap between
but in india
this is a thought
you can only
make it big
if you are
either a politician
or a blood touting
cricketer or
a heart throb
on the silver screen
you inherit
the money making

To Glenn Losack

It Is Only The Child Of Man Who Understands Humanity

in india or
any other place
a situation
like this would
go unnoticed
time and space
we have no time
we lost our humanity
destroyed our race
but mind you
it is only the child
who understands
human emotions
in any case
but yet
street life
in deathly
this does
not happen
to him
when he
grows up
he prays


William Poczatek and Tysa Konstancja
for all likes on my links and pictures at facebook

Carrying the Burden of Life and a Wail

the plight
of the muslim
beggar woman
i shoot
in the silhouette
of the hjab
i spot
on my
work route

why is she sitting there begging on the streets
a question nobody will ask her who really cares a hoot
to our destination as we commute ..
we have our own problems tax returns to be filed
credit card payment to be made mobile bill
electric bill to be paid ours commercial souls
to which we are attuned to her pain
her misery her despair we are totally immune
a gunny sack on the middle of no where
lost in transit her life the dark side of the moon

Most of my images text less are in a set at Flickr called Street Photography, I shot posted forgot , and normally even the Moharam pictures of Ashura I shot uploaded all at Flickr and moved on to the next feast or festival.

But here at Flickr there is one advantage a picture posted five years back can be fast forwarded and the posting date edited you see it in my current main stream.

I learnt this from Glenn Losack and it helps refreshes an old thought and adds a new dimension to it all over again .

I use Facebook sensibly without farting my views on the someones wall, I pimp my blogs via Twitter and Facebook, I am not into applications or games and as I wont be a coffee table book or a biography of pain , I am happy to be read on the internet.

But time is the essence what I am really good at does not run my kitchen to the wailing of my wife and her justifiable accusative kitchen modulated tone.

My blogs are a story board of pain , cinematic shot with an inbuilt story gives vent to another story till infinitude..

People call me a good photographer but I am not that good and I say this sincerely I am good not as a photographer but a person who mind reads an emotion as a picture..

And I shoot a poem so even an ordinary picture gets hi lit in its own shadow play.

This is photography as I see it as I am now teaching the same to my grand daughter two and a half year old Marziya Shakir who shoots comfortably with my Nikon D80.

Most of the time I am broke so my camera has not been upgraded and if good times come before I vanish I would want to shoot my pictures as a film documentary even if I have to learn the medium..
I dont have a video camera as yet my mentor Dr Glenn Losack who takes care of my camera lens need is more broke than I we bond we both are poets painters of light we give a dimension to a thought recreate it as a picture.. but he is a million light years ahead of me ..

Being a good human being is actually what makes you a very good photographer Fuck F stops for now .

The Silhouette of the Hijab

120,468 items / 785,421 views

the shadow of
the hijab emanating
a beauty in the person
who wears it
the hijab in muslim
a very integral
part of it
the very heart of it
only belgium france
throw a fit
hurriedly want to sack it
burn it ban it
england germany spain
more humane humanly
back it but here in
india the hijab
the soul of
the muslim woman
comfortably it fits
on the face of it
dignity grace
well lit
the hijab
to allahs
will submit
in india
is a super hit
a garb of modesty
i almost said it

We Will Miss You This Parsi New Year

Death levels everybody, whether he dies as a king on the throne or as a poor man without a bed on the ground.

Good bye Mr Vazifdar
may your soul rest in peace
from the trials tribulations
of the world you took
ultimate release
your kindness
your love
to all your friends
relatives you
did bequeath
this poem
i offer you
in return
as a wreath

ek suhana
safar hai
ek pyar
bhara geet
papeti mubarak

in a nostalgic heart beat