god hardly needs house of concrete and bricks he lives in the heart of the rich poor and the sick gods house is burned down bombed by the manic burning the soul of its very fabric in his name more people are killed destroyed by the fanatic god s greatest enemy is the believer of god not the atheist goddess lover or the gnostic its only when a natural calamity takes place we become human forget all thoughts ethnic catastrophic karmic seismic man more than any devil or evil spirit by his thoughts his deeds most satanic it was a picture i shot or a poem my thoughts began to click,., god is unseen but the most photogenic all this would not matter much this way or that way to the mind of the skeptic this picture is dedicated to my good friend Eric from Toronto photo quick from a barefeet bejewlled blogger mystic 50% human 50% tantric a shia hindu remix
glitter cosmetic sheen a hijra she has been since the age of thirteen she was seduced by her own dear uncle you know what i mean she ran away from home joined the hijras castrated hijra snake dancing queen luscious mangosteen her idol her god of all great things multi-media juggernaut none but charlie sheen the cult hero evergreen our hijra snake dancing queen was captured by my libidinous camera though she is hardly ever seen voluptuous nubile seductive on the whole very clean no pun intended by every snake charmer with a tumescent been been in hindi is a musical organ you put between your lips a lyrical tune rangeen the hijra neither man nor woman simply in between sweet and namkeen chris and christine exotic hybrid mouth watering cuisine vitamins proteins soulful serene intoxicating like morphine very mean machine adult and preteen clad cross dressed in a slitering saree o…
Bandra Bizarre Road, originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1. letters of hope all drowned and soggy letters of joy unfound and foggy letters of reconciliation watermarked as boggy the same letter box where lifting his spindly leg piddles her doggy at bandra bizarre road where gutters spew venomous fumes rains storm drainage working overtime whore watering holes that have become cloggy local hooch joint nearby asshole anonymous all gone groggy a tadpole finger fucked by a libidinous fish before he outgrows wishfully called wishy washie froggie
Cybernetic Clown, originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1. you cannot nail him down on the buzznet clothesline jumping up and down with a smile and a frown naked semi sadhu clothed in brown analogous camera mind prostituted poetry photography reknown street children street woes on pavements abound a pain that wont simmer down words fucked into silence by her own sound ass tickling words finger fucking words mouth sucking words depopulating in a cerebral godown in her heart they seldom touchdown. emotions on rent counsel the clown trade marked tear jerking tagedy talk of the town
I took his cab to go for some urgent work to Dadar, he was polite presentable and his cab was specklessly clean from within, I sat next to him , my madam sat at the back.
I took this shot before talking to him,he told me his name is Avhad he is from Chembur.
He drove silently and did not talk further even when I told him he had a very hefty and powerful surname.
I took two shots of this good man..he is a Maharastrian by birth and I am a Maharashtrian by Karma and Dharma.
I have been a Mumbaikar since I came here at the age of 1 and my parents both Shia Muslim migrants from Lucknow lie buried at Rehmatabad Shia cemetery holding hands side by side.
My children all three were born in Mumbai and my grand daughter is a Mumbaikar affectinately called Marziya Koli by the koli women of Bandra Bazar fish market in whose laps she grew with promfrets bangda gol rawas and smell of dry bombils .
I took her by surprise I was on my way to work and this is a beggar community from Murshidabad West Bengal , a huge bunch that begs in the slums and from the slums moves in to the main road begging from shops.
They mostly dress in black, and most are in pairs, I have not talked to one of them , but its the morbid pain of their lives , they dont have children tagging them like the Mumbai or Kahmiri migrant beggars.
Maybe Mamtaji's success in dislodging the reds might add a bit of color to the blackness of their own stark lives time will tell...
And all those parties that were created for the salvation have done nothing for the common man , their leaders fattened themselves became super rich in a very short space of time and the common Dalit or the poor man is still building statues in the sun.
relations are poems that touch and feel touch and heal some relationships are born on the soul of the karmic wheel a pledge with hope you silently seal feelings a cosmic heart wont reveal such is life what you are your inner soul conceals layers layers she tries to unpeel held in captivity she cant steal a silhouette surreal the pain the sufferings osmosis of fear slithering like an eel through the pinwheel festered wounds blood congeals
this is dedicated to a sweet person across the oceans kind and genteel..,,my ideal
Today we’re announcing an update to our share functionality to help you make Flickr the hub for your photos on the Internet. If you’re anything like us, you probably have multiple places out there on the Internet where you express yourself. Maybe you use Facebook to connect to your college friends, Twitter for people who share your interests, or your blog as your megaphone to the world. The changes we’re releasing today make it easier to upload once to Flickr and get your photos out to other places you showcase your photos on the web!
Here are some of the features we’re introducing:
* Easier access to share functionality -We’ve integrated options to share your photos as a key part of the photo page, making it easier for you to access and get your photos out to the places you want.
# Previously you could only share your photostrea…
I bought Mohali Home
on My TV set
a blogger is faster
than a newspaper
thanks to the internet
loads of money
for those who won
the toss won the bet ..
Pakistanis now fly back
to the cuckoos nest
the team won
that played the best
Many a great dreams great personalities dark thoughts despair morbidity inhabited this house Jony Castle Wodehouse Road Colaba , it touched even those who passed this way.
Keith Kanga was a Indian Rock icon founder of Atomic Forest , his parents had died when he was a little child , he was bought up by his maternal grand mother Granna as we called her she a fierce Jeovahs Witness , she was fine as a human being but a bigot all the way if you belonged to any other religion , her religion was the only Salvation , Watchtower and Paradise .
She hated the Roman Catholics as a Cobra hates a Mongoose, it was in the nature of her religion , it had more hate for others than mere love for Jesus Christ.Her faith finally destroyed her and her grandson too, and though Keith was bought up by her he did not inherit her hate , he was the richest kid the only Ric…
loads and loads
in a gunny bag
i was duly tagged
wherever i went
its an india win
even my panwala
caught me on the street
raucously asked me
who will win the match
india or pak ?
me black tea
my money back
i got free
at cheap jack
though at mohali
a ticket costs a lac
both sides praying
the great dream
does not crack
do or die
or get media flak
tryst with destiny
at wankhede stadium
crowds jam packed
a poet searching
for a needle
in a haystack
if wishes were horses
than beggars would be
hard labor life imprisonment churn out words living in the shadow of darkness with slur words like herds words that flap their wings like birds escaping from the poets cell entering into cyberspace no need of passwords loanwords watchwords good words bad words no father no mother almost bastards form the poets innards a poet who was a fucked drunkard from asshole to eternity always a jailbird words upwards downwards drunken jaybirds words from the closet back into the cupboard words now heading northwards
everyone waiting with bated breath eyes glued to the TV sets sprawled on bean bags single double couple and the stag item girl and the hag hero in the drag painted lips florescent bag the macho and the fag the politician windbag the nubile editor from the mag the big fat lady who loves to nag postmen with their mailbag even the pesswallahs with a gag
marziya shakes hands with uncle shewag wishing sachin uncle his 100 century she gives them both chocolates from her school bag India will win the match she raises the Indian flag with a camera round her neck she is the worlds youngest street photographer she loves to brag a retired grand father behind her shadow tags looking at this duo jealous tongues begin to wag sometimes on the soul of restless humanity cricket can be such a drag
I got a friend request and a message on Facebook from a person , his words touched me immensely and I am as human as he is I am a poet too.. I have made this message public to show you how as humans a picture touches the soul of us as human as Indians in a given situation of pain.
Huzefa Shabbir March 29 at 10:39pm Report Dear Mr Shakir
I live in the building where the fire took place on 25th March 2011, it was very sad that few kids from our community attacked you and injured you on that very unfortunate night, they did not know that you were trying to help us in your own way. I hope you will not keep anything in your heart of what happen on that very day.
You are an amazing photographer i have gone through all your pictures, i myself love taking pictures if you can see my profile but i am not professional as you are.
we both are crazy so to speak we shoot beggars we shoot freaks through the soul of images we communicate through pictures we speak he is a master of his art light shadow sound technique holding eternity in a vultures beak an American by birth he is a hardcore Indian mild and meek he loves my country a love unique as he freezes a wet tear on a beggar child's cheek my mentor holistically healing streak we are both slaves of marziyas mystique a 3 year old child a street photographer photo chic a nikon d300 snazzy and sleek round her neck truth she seeks
a magical script needs no words or text deliriousness moving pictures prose poetry pain passion pathos in the right context sensuality oomph for the over sexed reality drama emotions from one scene to the next heroes heroines item girls villains on the soul of humanity indexed golden moments glory dance music in a cinema hall refreshed horror fear and dread silky moments sucking her toes on a silken flowery bed eyes closed wings spread
the soul of man you can magically morph the soul of an artist you can reform jacke shroff the silence in a tea cup of a creative storm on a celluloid platform you are what you are is how a scene you perform brainy brainstorm jackie dada an exclamation but no not a full stop a re surging force time and tide he transforms a poet a philosopher philanthropist kind congenial warm
Jackie Shroff (born 1 February 1960) is an Indian actor. He has been in the industry for more than 28 years and has appeared in over 150 films.
Jaikishen was born in the Gujarati-speaking Shroff family on February 1, 1960. His dad's name is Arvind Chandrababu, his brother's is Hemant, and they live in Bandra, Mumbai in a bungalow named 'Babu Pad".
A vegetarian, Jaikishen made his acting debut in a bit-role as a villain in the 1973 hit 'Heera Panna' which starred Dev Anand. He then went on to act in another Dev Anand starer, 'Swami Dada".
It was Subhash Ghai, who signed him up for the 1983 hit 'Hero' that catapulted this handsome young man to stardom, followed by yet another hit 'Andar Bahar' with Anil Kapoor as his co-star. Thus Jaikishen became the new Indian legend: Jackie Shroff.
Jackie Dada My Hero, originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1.
Jackie Shroffs look in Hero was put together by me and this is a fact that Dada knows and I know many many years back and my relationship with Dada happened in the early 70s at the Oberois when I worked at Sheraton Treasures a shop that belonged to the Burlington group and Mr Shashi Kapoor was one of the partners I was told though it was late Mrs Jenifer Kapoor that instilled the love of fashion in my soul and helped make me what I am today my journey as sartorial magician would have been incomplete without her generous contribution...
You Can Create Actors You Cant Make Another Jackie Shroff
178,482 items / 1,396,981 views
of an artist
you can reform
in a tea cup
of a creative
on a celluloid
you are what you are
is how a scene you
but no not a f…
“Let no man in the world live in delusion. Without a Guru none can cross over to the other shore.” Guru Nanak Saab
Anil Bhartiya is a very low profile person, quiet, reticent and minds his own business , he has seen life lived life , he has seen good times bad time hard times , but never complained, he has never been proud arrogant , he is the most talented brilliant fine art as well as a creative photographer.
He is one of the finest photo journalists but humble to the core..I owe much to him , and others like me he has taught at the various outdoor shoots Malsheh Ghat Alibagh Murud Janjira.
Anil Bhartiya is a one man army God has stopped making Anil Bhatiyas completely parts are not easily available..and this is a fact he has at home with every genre of photography, he has contributed a lot to photographers in Mumbai and all over India.
Sometimes I wonder what pulls beggars to me , why are they dawn to the karmic consciousness of my camera lens..he came to my workplace I gave him something he asked for some more , I told him to go to the mosque for more substantial or adequate help.. he gave me mocking smile and simply because though Allah is benevolent kind merciful his custodians most of them are worse than this beggar..they are beggars a notch higher than him , beneath the mosque beggars are the madrsa beggars who come with mini trucks and blaring loudspeakers wake the entire locality with their sales spiel.
And begging is an integral part of Moslem society embedded in the soul of its religiosity ...I cannot escape beggars as much as some who cant escape me and I remember when I first joined Flickr and posted Muslim beggar all Mosems from the Far East were gunning for my poetic pedantic pedestrian ass…
doston ka dost dushman o ka jani dushman nam hai inka KRK inse jo jalte hain woh rahte hain darke na idhar ke na udharke dost ke liye yeh jan bhi de denge big boss ke ghar main yeh rehte the bindas akadke enhe dekhkar sab choriyon ka dil dhad ke dil dhad ke bollywood ke one and only ek SRK ek KRK
Children who have lost parents to HIV/AIDS are not only just as deserving of an education as any other children, but they may need that education even more. Being part of a school environment will prepare them for the future, while helping to remove the stigma and discrimination unfortunately associated with AIDS. -- Harry Belafonte
I was invited by a very dear friend to see the creative works of children living in an atmosphere of AIDS , either they have it or it in some cases their parents are infected , I did not shoot their pictures though they all gathered around me seeing me in my bejeweled attire, some of them kept holding my hands and rings..this was the first time I was meeting these special kids in my life and because of the stigma attached to this scourge of a disease I am happy through their work you will see and understand them better.
we had a fight she clubbed me because she is taller than me voluptuous in height she got upset she is from lahore my sweet transvestite i told her while making love accidentally that india will beat the pakistanis in a bitter fight at mohali where our luck would be shining bright this is what she did to me hung me up all night beat me black blue and white why for a match of cricket do we lose our sight i cant understand get me right two countries that even god cant unite she left me this way took the next flight to mohali my poetic plight born a dreamer a visionary without insight pain my sweet bitter birthright i have decided to patch up with her no more cockfights be more polite no match fixing in a love ill starred no respite she is a non believer i am a shiite
optional title the transvestites tale never ends ...airtight
once a principal of st stanislaus kindhearted congenial disciplinarian but a good big boss a Jesuit humble soldier of the lord on the cross my dear friend fr lawrie serrao a humanitarian poetry and pathos the love of jesus on my soul he did emboss i shoot all religion faith people culture on my poets consciousness seamlessly crisscrossed glory and gloss hope humility heavenly ethos away from all human madness political chaos
Fr Lariwe encouraged me to be an avid photographer I honed my skills shooting his school St Peter Church , he always invited me to his Jesuit celebrations , after he left for St Xaviers , I lost a very good patron of the Arts , even today Father invites me to his birthdays..though he never ages is not the crux of his birthday or this blog.
I was introduced to Fr Lawrie by the inimitable bundle of creative joy called Darryl of Peace Haven..