Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Peak Of Eloquence And the Silence of The Soul, originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1.
1. Father forgive them, for they know not what they do (Luke 23:34).
2. Truly, I say to you, today you will be with me in paradise (Luke 23:43).
3. Woman, behold your son: behold your mother (John 19:26-27).
4. My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?, (Matthew 27:46 and Mark 15:34).
5. I thirst (John 19:28).
6. It is finished (John 19:30).
7. Father, into your hands I commit my spirit (Luke 23:46).
King James Bible
In my Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you.
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he created rain
before god created
tears he created
a cosmic brain
before he created
he created hussain
before he created chaos
he created restrain
on the soul
of man s consciousness
he created his
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from my phased
out wall of sorrow
i am now finally
where i am
you dont have
my only wealth
i left behind
my bejeweled blogs
my weeping blogs
my bleeding blogs
my brains wordbook
like bunty the robber
from big bosses house
i escaped from facebook
a poet photographer
for a pedestrian
choked on a belching
brook playing it safe
by the bloggers
i wont be
ek satta bazar
sukh aur dukh
dedicated to dear friend sukhi hontu
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Once upon a time he sold bananas on his head and moved about from one street to the next in Bandra.
Than I saw him on Bandra Hill Road a few days back I recognized him , he was asking people for help but almost akin to begging , his leg had a lethal wound and he was in bad shape , he told me it might have to be amputated he was being treated for it at the local municipal hospital .
He walked with the help of a stick and I dont think a few bucks could change the morbid nature of his life that he says has come to an end.. he said this to me through the sad slithering silence of his eyes that carried death on his eyelashes.
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And upper class Hindu Brahmanic society called him a Mochi or chamar , they are stilled looked down upon thanks to the ghost of the caste system that still prevail in the mind of a bigot.
This cobbler is a friendly person always busy with the job on hand I shoot him , he stitches repairs overhauls polishes footwear , he sells a few sandals made by him.
His faithful clientele is the cops of the Bandra Police station , who have their shoes and belts polished by him.
He sits on the pavement on busy Bandra Hill Road diagonally opposite the Bandra Police station on the same road.
Rains heat humidity he is there and absolutely polite I have never heard him ever raise his voice , he tells me do people really see his picture or want to know his street story of his life and cobbled dreams ..when I told him I post his pictures on the internet , a huge river online where paper boats called blogs pictures set sail touch the harbor of human hearts.
I dont think he understood that ...and for once I am feeling less exhausted more relieved I dont have to pimp my blogs anymore at Facebook.
As a blog I give birth on Flickr ..
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Nothing personal, just a frame of mind and morbidity , certainly not too much of blogging as I will be posting my stuff at Flickr as I shoot the streets of pain and poetry.
My life is not under my control I am mortgaged to pain and emotional chaos..
I have decided to take a long sabbatical from Facebook , and I am locking up my comment box at Facebook simply because I do not want to hurt people if I dont answer their comments on my pictures.
I might access it once in a while I am not deactivating my account being a victim of my dark moods.
I dont want to give any explanation , I am following the dictum of my mind and have not been influenced by any other thought .
I thank all my friends for understanding this need for retreat and privacy from a platform I liked and still like.
I wont be Fickr to Facebooking any more pictures this is my last one.
Nor will I be posting anymore links.
Why I chose this picture is because it shows a glimmer of hope in trying circumstances and a basket of over ripe blogs..
I am on Flickr inbox Blogspot and Twitter..
Take Care .
I have decided like Bunty the Robber to get the Fuck of the Big Bosses House at Facebook..
Jain Muni Shot By Marziya Shakir On The Nikon D 80, originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1.
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There is a story behind this picture but I shall keep it short , Marziya saw the Jain Muni entering a building so I followed the Jain Muni because he visited a Jain family I know .
I went to that house but he was at another house , the lady of the house where he was to arrive asked me in as her husband Dr Jain is known to me .
When the Jain Muni arrived I told hm I had shot him many a times on the road and written a few poems on him , he liked Marziya instantly and because he cannot touch a girl child he blessed her from a distance in the meantime Marziya asked for my camera and took two shots.
We were about to leave but the Jain Muni asked us to wait as the lady of the house gave him food he asked me also to pick up a roti and place it in his container I did.
When Marziya had come to the house the lady of the house had given her some chocolates which she held in her hand s , the Muni asked Marziya to pick up a roti and give it to him , but Marziya instead of the roti picked up her chocolates and was about to place it in his container , I began to cry and The Muni told Marziya he did not want her chocolates only the roti which she placed but wondering why I was crying , I was crying because my grand daughter who loves chocolates was giving her entire share away to the Jain Muni.
The Jain Muni spoke fluent English and invited me to his Ashram but I have been unable to go there and I shot these pictures a few days back I finished my back log and am posting it today.
So Marziya sometimes becomes my Guru too wit her wisdom the greatness of her heart and soul and I wonder by shooting pictures with my camera she is not earning photography from me but teaching me the essence of photography as a holistic science and giving relief to my restless soul.
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hunger for knowledge
hunger for creativity
hunger for humanity
hunger as humility
all a child's goal
a god of all good things
embedded within her soul
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