Thursday, December 30, 2010


Their Lessons of Life Made Me a Hindu Muslim

If My Parents Had Only Made Me A Muslim My Journey of Life Would Be Incomplete

The Trishul of Peace

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om sahanaavavatu sahanaubhunaktu, sahaviryam karavaavahai.
tejasvinaavadhItamastu, maa vidvishaavahai.
om shaanti shaanti shaanti.

om purnamadah purnamidam purnat purnamaduchyate, purnasya purnamaadaaya purnamevaavashishyate.

om shaanti shaantishaanti .

Om asatomaa sadgamaya, tamasomaa jyotirgamaya, mrutyormaa mrutam gamaya.

Om shaanti shaanti shaanti

om shanti om
a chant at birth
a crescendo
of well being
the heart
mind the soul
till its journey
inundating wave
after wave
as man reaches
the end a cosmic
nothing left to crave
face to face
for one last time
with vishnu shiva
burnt ego
burnt belongings
lust selfishness
he need not save
he finally gets
what he gave
a very thin
line of demarcation
between the coward
the fearless the brave
the king the jester
the knave
for he has but
one master
he himself a slave

dedicated to sukhi hontu..

My Ashura Inflicted Head Wound Day After Ashura

Wandering the Streets and Bylanes of Chennai ..

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All this was shot the last few hours I spent in Chennai hastily wandering the by lanes close to Dr Abbas Mirs house where I stayed, I shot people faces I shot raw emotions I shot Chennai early mornings and they were as similar to what I shoot at my own backyard Bandra Bazar Road.

I am a street photographer and life is nothing but a one way street, I shot Moharam in Chennai three sets and this is my fourth set pictures not pertaining to Moharam, pictures I shot at Dharmapuri a town in Chennai are part of this set , for convenience I will aso include pictures I shot in the trains while going to Chennai and while coming back.

Strange coincidence or my karmic fate I encountered Hijras both ways , as though telepathically they knew my travel schedule , one fell at my feet , offered me tea , and asked me if I needed any money , this was a hijra ascetic who is a devotee of Haji Malang Baba in Maharashtra a pilgrimage the hijras or I dont miss.

Among hijras you meet the good the bad and the ugly, and it takes two hands to clap, if you are good to them they are good to you, and I have no bias no issue I respect them as an integral part of our society and thereby endear them to me,because I have my own Hijra blogs where I cross blog from Flickr many know me , but I dont go out of my way to stalk them or hunt them..

I have no agenda , and photography or blogging does not run the kitchen at home, I do it to keep myself occupied and sharing my fucked world with you own not too fucked world I am sure.

My fate is conjoined with the hijras and for fuck sake dont ask me why, I meet them when I least expect them and this is a karmic occurrence , there is no escaping it for me or for them.. period.

This year as it comes to an end slithering away into nothingness , I am stuck , not for words but for certain change in my emotional climatic condition, this is perhaps the first time in my life as a blogger , I have been ensconced at home, my wife is away in Iran, religious pilgrimage and I am in between my work and my blogs.

Chennai weather spelt my doom , I have been in a very bad shape since my return, I shot the St Peter Church not to miss out on the Christian ambiance , but I gave a miss to the Urus at Makhdoom Shah Baba Mahim , I did not shoot the Police Sandal or my dear friend Sakibs sandal, my health and my over all insouciance , I have not gone to town either.

I might visit the body piercing rafaees either today or tomorrow and catch up with them at the Dhuni..Mahim Dargah.

My diabetic condition change of weather here in Mumbai are some of the reasons I guess,I have decided not to shoot Chehlum in Mumbai and shall wait for my impulses to take me to some other strange city I have never shot before.. but this again depends on my financial conditions too.

Marziya keeps me occupied , with her childs wisdom and playfulness , she has become a a very talented artist thanks to her mom and her Uncle Assad, she draws colors and sketches and creates stuff ..

Its 6.30 am I made myself a cup off black tea , and perhaps after this shall hit the sack again.

I Agree I Was A Wee Bit Strange Shia In Chennai

The Shias of Chennai are simple souls and very humble too, most of them kept inquiring abut my earrings that I duly removed on 9 Moharam.. I was totally bare on Ashura day in Chennai.

The Shias of Chennai are very hospitable they would buy me tea at a tea stall, even during Tabaruk time they would ask me if I had eaten, and by now the knew I had come from Mumbai to shoot Moharam and was a friend of Mesaq and Dr Abbas Ali Mir.

I did not sit at an Internet cafe in Chennai when I was shooting, I may have sat at one for a few minutes to check my mail on 9 Moharam.

I wish I had carried my laptop as I am still uploading pictures of Chennai, and this is my final lot than I shal post pictures of my train trip to Mumbai .. and a few pictures of my trip from Mumbai to Chennai..

Is Khoon Ke Peeche Ek Ghera Raz Hai Khamoshi Ka Kya Andaz Hai ...

hamare behte hue khoon
'aur asooon main
ek ma ki awaz hai
shiya matamdaron
par unko naz hai

Zameen Seechti Hai Hamare Badan Ka Khoon Mat Poochiye Shia Ka Moharam Main Kya Junoon

Hamare Khoon Ki Pehchan Hai Islam Zinda Hai Yeh Unka Ehsaan Hai

Hamare Khoon Ki Pehchan Hai Katra Katra Imam Par Mehrban Hai