Sunday, August 8, 2010

The Barbers Assistant Shoots Me

The Nikon D 80 is a robust hardy camera , and if Marziya can use it without dropping it down I think anybody can use it , here I gave my camera to the barbers assistant he shot this, I only have to tell them the button to press and pray he does not drop it.

However Marziya will only take the camera in her hands once it is safely round her neck this is her golden rule of photography.

This barber has been running this salon since 4 years, with the help of a guy.

This lane is full of nostalgia as I stayed very close to this place once upon a time and has a lot of memories of my stay in Bandra .

Once I had fallen into an open gutter during the heavy rains , with my camera and was lucky I hurt myself but my camera was intact, Mumbai Mirror covered the story of a blogger who literally went down the drain....a camera intact but a damaged brain...

Honestly Tell Me Will Her Life Ever Change ?

she does not know
anything about
the common wealth games
or any other games
she is a robust
hardworking lady
for her station in life
he bad kismet
she blames
her mother sits
next to the street
stall by her side
next to her mother
sits her aunt her uncle
selling vegetables
no tall claims
in all humility
in a mans world
in the bazrar
living in mutual
is her peace
loving aim
indian bhaiyyas
around her
selling vegetables
does not bother
her heart
not yet in flames

The Healing Touch of a Beggar Child

she touched
me with
the healing
of a beggar child
healed me
i was blind
now i could
clearly see
through her
my own destiny

The School Bag of Misfortune

her mother
carried it once
her father
carried it too
a school bag
of misfortune
it is true from
one generation
to the next
as it overgrew
an education
system based
on carrying
in the bag
as knowledge
on view
from the
frying pan
into the stew
a picture
i give the school
its unending due

gibberish poetry
a new genre
the soul
of a guruvayur
a tower
of babel
of pedantic
in the
of being built
on the soul
of humanity
in their
graves too

This is Muslim Motherhood Begging On The Streets

a long walk of pain
for little tiny feet
empty stomachs
hardly anything
to eat within
the shadow
of motherhood
little tiny
heart beats
ramzan is
round the corner
hope humidity and heat
left overs of iftiari
few crumbs some sweet

My Fate I Cannot Escape

locked up
held in captivity
like a domestic ape
into the darkness
i gape
my fucked fate
i cannot escape
my soul
a sword
cold brutal
my nape

The Game People Play

136,452 items / 1,054,645 views

games that we play
on the soul of our nation
tearing her soul away
common wealth
of the people
by the people
for the people
by a few blown away
national honor
is important
people in lofty
places say
so for tissue
paper rolls
tread mills
flower pots
through the
nose we
must pay
was there
before this
will continue
after this
our national way
till the public forgets
it another new scam
comes its way
this is the heritage '
to the unborn child
we bequeath
on our dying day
the only ever lasting
virtue on a tray
the master of the
game you can change
but the new master
can he too change the play
we need a scapegoat
as a sacrificial tribute
but the core corruption
can never change
in any way
form structure
genetically bound
to inner corruption
on display

mera bharat mahan
bharat ki jai
ham jahan the
wahan reh gaye
satyamave jayate

Jesus Shows The Way In The Dark

saving you
in his noahs ark
you your children
from every walk
jesus is silence
through action talks
jesus is human
your flaws
your shortcomings
your cleft upper lip
you stutter
your stammer
your club foot
your deformity
of body and soul
he does not mock
how many books
you read
how many '
languages you
he does not
take stock
but did you
on seeing
a poor child
on the road
as he begs
the clock
your own
like rock
the soul
of humanity
on your soul
jesus unlocks
is the
the life
the resurrection
no writer's block
using the Bible
as the building block

this is dedicated poetized for my Christian friends a gift for all I have received from you guys.. call it wisdom learning love peace and brotherhood too.. because of your faith I became good in my faith too..

The Hijra Angst Through My Lens

The beggar hijras in Mumbai behave according to the area they are begging in , because this is a high profile signal, rich people , kindness and courtesy is the attribute of the begging hijra.

Near the slums where the crowds are loud lewd the hijra is defiant if he is in a group otherwise he just claps curses and walks away, nowadays they dont wear petticoats to lift up and show their mutilated gender.

When we were young we teased them ,. provoked them called them Chakkas and other names this got on their ir and they would expose them an act supposed to bring bad luck, I am still waiting for my bad luck 58 year now ..

I dont now if I am doing penance for my childhood antics but than kids did have such encounters.

Hijras are an integral part of Indian society though they live on the fringe of despair.

My hijra documentary pays tribute to the grass root beggar hijra the variety we meet in trains traffic signals .

College kids meet them on the rocks where they go with their babes to dry fuck ther bachelor angst.. the kids have to pay the hijras for their privacy , the hijra shows no leniency will hang around there till you lose whatever rock you carried along with you...

I had two beggar hijra friends who touch my feet and treat me with lot of respect one is a Lakshmi from Antop Hill and the other Archana.

They beg at Tuner Road and invited me to their shanties for lunch , but could never make it..

They are both kind humble soft spoken and polite.

Lakshmi from Antop Hill is a devotee of Lord Balaji and goes for the annual pilgrimage , she is bald when she comes back.

There are some really pretty ones on this signal but their beat is through rotation.

These are not the hijras you will meet at Ajmer or Haji Malang.

The rich affluent hijras are lucky and they live a lavish life ,but they have struggled to reach where they you should not begrudge them their wealth or karma.

The mujra dancing hijras live at Hijra Gully No 1 and this is a very exclusive variety , performing their item numbers at shacks in Madh Island or private parties.

Breaking the virginity of a nubile young pubescent hijra novice is known as Nath Giirana and it is a great source of income too, but how many times the hijra has lost his virginity is a question better not asked.

Than there is the very posh bar dancing hijra variety working as dancers in pubs and bars they make a bomb shared width the women dancers too.

I know some of them , very cultured and agile great dancers but uneducated in some cases.

But a lot of hijras have become net savvy and every hijras mobile phone has a lot of porn clips this is the influence of the internet on the sex starved soul of the hijra.

And dont ask me why young kids want to become hijra I could never answer this at all.. they start as lady boys and finally depending on their comfort levels become hijras.

I shot a lot of kids that hung around with the hijras and became a part of the community.

The toys boys of the Hijras is an essential part of the system, as companions lovers bodyguards and sometimes as pimps too.

The Fucked Fate of The Beggar Hijras of Mumbai

This is what I shoot
through my angst
the hijras angst
i loot the hijra
ethos pain
in car smoke
gaseous soot
clapping her hands
an androgynous
moment of despair
through the loins
of remorse bears fruit
shooting hijra
is shooting
gods greatest
testicular fortitude
he shuns away
his masculinity
to be a woman
in a ladies suit
to be fucked by fate
disguised as another man
prowling on his route
the beggar hijras of mumbai
a community i salute
while society watches them
dumbfounded and mute
they are shunned exploited
raped sodomized
a fucked system in cahoots
trampled under a boot

Dil Darya Gand Samandar

136,441 items / 1,054,389 views

A real conversation with the hijra beggar on turner road bandra in his crude lingo...poetized on the soul of his humanity .

tum hamara photo lekar kya karega
hum toh hijda hai signal par
hi marega parwah kaun karega
apna madarchod nasib
se kaun narega
dil darya gand samandar
yeh apna hal hai
sala apun iske age kya karega
gaddi hai
koie na koie toh chadega
jyada bolega toh policewale
ka phatka padega

Ushering in Ramzan

I meet her every time I pass this way, she just looks at me I move away , she knows I shoot her pictures but she says nothing to me , she is resigned to her fate as a beggar from Murshidabad in W Bengal on the back streets of Bandra.

She gets to eat from the houses in this lane, left overs or basi food as we call it kept in the frig but not eaten.

Her legs are swollen , she walks with the aid of a stick and begs near the bazar,

Ramzan is a lucrative month for beggars , money left over sairi or iftiari, and Ramzan our Holy Month of piety introspection spiritual reawakening booster is just round the bend it begins in a few days.

When fruit prices zoom you know Ramzan has begun.
All kinds of dates black brown wet dry will be available on hand carts, ready made falooda packets skull caps check scarves and the place you can feel this exuberance this intensity like a poem is near the Station Road Sunni mosque, JJ Colony lane , Lucky Hotel lane and at Bazar Road all in Bandra close to where I stay.

When you hear guys in tempo s blaring away for donations to rebuild the mosques madarsaas you know Ramzan has begun , most of them are white collared beggars with glib, and kids that run up and down buildings with fat donation books all this is reminder that Ramzan has come in on the wings of money too.

The most important reminder is the Chand Raat the sighting of the Moon ths is enjoyable at Bhendi Bazar Crawford Market and Pydhonie, and the hijras from Null Bazar come out with dholaks clapping their hands and demanding their pound of flesh.

The very first Roza you are awakened by the call of green clothed men , with a torch in hand a long stick to drive away barking dogs is the community of Awakeners

The kids love Ramzan, the elders too, the kids spent their nights playing carrom , gully cricket, and they are leniently loud but not lewd.
The typical quintessential eaves-teasing completely vanishes , the crooks the whores in red light areas take a religious break,

As I visit the hijras at Peela House during Ramzan to shoot them the atmosphere is charged with piety, reading of the scriptures , and in the same household called Hijra Cages the Hindu Hijras are busy with bringing in Lord Ganesha with pomp and splendor.

And in this little Ganesha temple of the Hijra prostitutes sparkles a huge American diamond that I had gifted to Lakshmi Guru , not to be mistaken with Laxmi Narayan Tripathi my hijra Guru from Thane.

This gift of the diamond and my barefet humility made the Peela house hijras and me friends for life.

The artis and the breaking of the fast is in mutual co existence depends on the timings and each respecting the other persons religious sensibilities.

So Ramzan is not just in homes mosques but in areas of ill repute too...and humanity is the core essence of religious and spiritual survival.

I would like to go to Ajmer during Ramzan Idd or a day before to shoot the ambiance there but I am deep down in muck of my bad luck that sticks to me like a curled dogs tail it wags it brags but does not straighten

Unlike you guys I take what falls on the plate of my destiny, and it is true I click pictures get clobbered because I write gibberish poems , and I am really shocked how could a person read them , and later criticize me because I am not at all pompous pedagogic even in my use of words is in sheer simplicity and I am poor in grammar and syntax.

I mean what is the using of building a Tower of Babel of literature and fine arts , this to a Keralite SOB when every morning you wipe your as with your hands and the shit hits the ceiling each each time you add a friend on Facebook.

So I come to a conclusion , we as Indians are the greatest enemy of our Indianness , we rape sodomize our own, we rob the country dry, we spare no the end of the day we are hardly Indians we are just shadows of our genetic flaws and misconceptions.

So this is bog call it ravings of a sartorial saint or a sinner , the blog is nothing but emptying out of residue stuck in the throat of logic pretending to be a poem going from bad to verse.

For the visually handicapped it is words and for those who hate words it is a picture of a beggar woman counting her earnings she is collecting it to celebrate Idd with her distant relatives in Murshidabad.

And I hate Sundays as they groan moan in the pangs of giving birth to a Monday...

The Silhouette Of A Hijab

the hijab
is muslim womans
garment of hope
a garment
of modesty
a symbol
of her solidarity
she must cope
it is the man
who must have
the hijab
in his eyes
for the woman
the hijabs scope
her as she is
in a male
dominated society
walking a
tight rope

The Nation Weeps The City Cries Out In Pain

136,402 items / 1,054,317 views

our city's
a broken down
power loom
when the CRZ
opens up
it will be
final doom
where there are slums
near the coastal areas
towers will loom
more reclamation
of the sea
new shanties
new slums
will mushroom
only the super rich
the very poor
to do their dirty work
will exist
the middle class
will be
shown the broom
born in a mothers womb
comes out clawing
to grab illegally
the coffers of hope
in the corridors
of power politics
it blooms
what emotional appeal
mr subroto ghosh
an inquiry after the games
our nation's integrity honesty
like dirty
water from a bathroom
everything will be forgotten
the culprits forgiven
a new game will resume
the master of the game
to new heights
will zoom
more wealth
more tears on
our children s tomb
in a system of
for elbow room
after the games
tell me
what will
an inquiry exhume
16000 crores
at stake
is what
the master mind
thinks with
in his drawing room
what a boom

to sachin tichkule
the common man
he will consume
my poem my picture
my gloom

The World of the Tantric

healing those
who are mentally sick
with his mantra
with his magic stick
the devil
your soul
he picks
him out with
a few kicks
it is
i click
which gets
on the goat
of keralite pig
SB for short
son of a bitch
a total
of a prick
a slippery dick

i told the tantric
if he could
this literary
swollen headed
empty headed
of gunny bag
of tricks
he looked
his jantri
he said
a fucked up
my mouse
i clicked
the tantric
i did not contradict
being a spammer
a phased out book
no conflict

Ya Sahibul Zaman

Hathon mein Zulfiqar liye mein dekh raha hoon

Ismat sar-e-bazar hey mein dekh raha hoon

Kis kis ne yahan Laasha-e-Shabbir ko loota

Aur kon azadar hey mein dekh raha hoon

Mein Perda-e-Geybat mein hoon us geyb kay Haq se
Jis jis ko bhi inkaar hey mein dekh raha hoon

Dunya waloon ne ajab shor macha rakha hey
Biddat-o-Fasq ko Islam bana rakha hey
Apni Tauheed agar tujh ko bachani hey Khuda
Bhej us ko jisay perday mein chuppa rakha hey

Perday mein rehnay walay zara samnay tou aa

Hum chup na hongey aaj shikayat kiye baghair

Muddat guzar gai hey Teray intezar mein

Kiya lout jayen Teri bayyat kiye baghair

Aey Fatema ka Laal hamari hey aarzu

Choomein Teray qadam Tu agar aaye ru-baru

Aaja kay Tujh ko Teri hi ghaybat ka waasta

Hum mar na jayen Teri ziyarat kiye baghair

Ek Teray intezar mein aey Ibne Askari

Eesa nahi faqat karorron hain aur bhi

sourced from net

In The White Mans World The Silhouette of The Hijab

the only
that gets
on their goat
try as much as they can
it still remains afloat
the silhouette of the hijab
like a trench coat
a muslim female
attire respecting
her identity
her modesty
poems in its defense
this poet wrote
a garment
his family wears
he loves to promote

A head covering on a Muslim is a political statement but it is not when on a Christian nun’s head. – Riem Spielhaus, Humbolt University

to quote

Bandra Is a Tourist Attraction Too

these foreigners
were searching
for bollywood
houses to view
they had been
to galaxy
to shoot salman
khans house
but the crowds
at band stand
drove them wild
so to
sharukhs house
they flew here
they saw mannat
clicked pictures
the watch man
would not allow
them to pass through
they than went to pali hill
to shoot ranbirs bungalow
krishna raj were surprised
ranbir came out
wished them
thank you
they next came to
john abrahams pad
no sign of bispasha basu
but they spotted
johns cute butt
showing through
they saw he was
kick boxing
doing kung fu
finally they came
to saif kareenas house
thats when I shot
them for all of you
but i refused their offer
when they asked me
to take them
to amitabh bachchan
aishwaryas house
i told them
i had a lot
of work to do
i could not
possibly 'take
them to juhu
or to hrithik roshan
vivek oberois house
which is close to
every other venue
in relation to
but they pleaded
they wanted to meet
akshay kumar
khatron ka khiladi
all his pictures
in their country
they had viewed
but i told them
i was far too busy
on facebook
my house within
a house
on world view
i shook hands
bid them adieu
but they held me back
took my mug shot
to show to their
friends in peru

The First Time I Saw Her

i saw her
in a short skirt
a glistening locket
shone from
her over bursting
she had posted
her picture
on her web page
of her reflection
in a shop
it now
seems an age
her red ensemble
me in a maze
of that chance
i could never erase
i tried very hard
she set my
on fire
all ablaze
like an HMV
record on my
poetic angst
that moment plays
i am not sure
i will meet her again
one of these days
distempered kitten
in a basket of hope
a goddess of phrase
sometimes bitterness
acrimony animosity
force best friends
to part ways
good old days
the code of silence
her Mediterranean gaze
crazy old horse
of an Indian
a hookah of peace
dreams we chase

to a blog goddess
who made me
a journaler of a poet
a toast i raise

This Is The Present State of My Mind

within the soul
of thorns bramble
it has made its
my pain
on a blog at the
click of a mouse
a fire that burs
my angst
i cannot douse
dead asleep
i cant arouse
on her
her profit
my loss
i dare not
browse my
doomed destiny
my marital vows
linked to the soul
of my spouse

The Jilted Lovers Tale

One sided love that miserably failed . for just a glimpse her compound gates he scaled .. with her thoughts his inner angry restl...