Shilpa Gets Her Cheeks Pierced For The First Time, originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1. As mentioned earlier she had a dream she is a Koli married woman with a very devoted husband Nilesh and a 5 year old daughter..Her husband held her while Raja pierced her cheeks this was my most profound documentary of two persons deeply in love bound to a rod of faith.. to a Tamil goddess of fertility Marriammen.
sectarian hate sectarian strife within the soul of a bomb encased humanity brotherhood has replaced allah ho akbar the call of the muezzin now as a war cry has surfaced muslims are a divided race one hating the other not giving the other space but all Allah do embrace searching for martyrdom totally misplaced a jehad they call it just in case distorting his teachings his piety his tolerance his spiritual base his holy scriptures misinterpreted rephrased a religion that was once know for its dignity and its grace poisonous puritanism radicalism beneath a bearded face for sufism shiasm wahabbism ahle hadees talibanism has no space into another world called akhrat as we race Islam the only path of peace Truth always a detour as the pilgrim strays on the soul of humanity defaced by a few demented disillusioned mentally crazed
The Milk Effect, originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1. Milk is used as lubricant it makes it easy to maneuver the rod in the mouth close to the tongue and get the balance equal at both ends ..of the cheek.. a wrong move can tear open the jaw for life..
And it is with his rod these guys spin themselves leap in the air and dance and some with hooks in the back pull vans..Goddess Mari inspires them with divine strength..
the first time a million light years an aging eternity when accidentally she touched me her voice at the other end lisping in pain her sense sensuality swept me off my feet drenched the soul of my pathos passion poetry cascading like dancing silks lashing my inner being punitively her flesh her body her mind bits of her stupidity killed me instantly now only a poetic thought on the periphery a moment lost in time i hear her voice soundlessly betrayed by lust betrayed by love a desire that could not be spurned by chance violently enchained to her memory i tried to be what i was not what i could not be in love blindingly locked as a tiny pearl in an oyster she was a path but not my destiny
Goddess Mari Amman is revered and worshiped widely among Tamil villagers across Sri Lanka and South India, where she is regarded as having the power to bestow or remove life-threatening fevers like smallpox and chicken pox. Despite Mari Amman’s great popularity to this day, the origins of her cult remain obscure. The oral tradition concerning her origin, however, may be summarized as follows:
In ancient India there once lived a rishi named Jamadhakni together with his sahadharmini (nowadays called ‘wife’) Renuka Devi and their four sons. They had built an ashram on the bank of the river Ganges, the holy river descended from the heavens in Hindu mythology, where they lived an austere but happy life spent in prayer, worship and meditation.
Jamadhakni would customarily wake up from sleep as early as 4 a.m. and ask Renuka…
I have been shooting this girl child woman since mamy years she grows on the soul of my poetry , she is always well dressed sometimes shy sometimes attacking my camera to be noticed and to be seen,she was accompanying a boy who had his cheeks pierced later maybe from her area, she was a sight kicking up a storm, she was laughing she was crying she was dancing she was touching the feet of the piercers , she was different , so I shot her vivacity her innocence and her Tamil pride .. her vivre de joie..
I shot her as poet using a paint brush on a canvas for the first time...
from here the dream ships set sail for every port mahim fort rejuvenating soul body mind yogic health resort shit as much as you want poetic efforts you need not abort travel into gods own country no visa no emigration check required no passport no hidden charges moral support doodle in the sands muscles contort what goes in must exit out laws of transport import export unless a hijra comes hassles you the fucked spoilsport blackmailing you he might extort as parts of your dreams on the waves float wet and dry you need not sort shitting on the soul of heritage humanity a romance you need no consort
He Is A Butcher And I Am A Sacrificial Goat, originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1. I have always had my heart liver and spleen butchered on the altar of one sided love .. I love illusions spectral beauties..what I envision always belongs to someone else.. but yes it keeps poetry of delusion and metamorphosing as a sucker alive..the only two words I was reminded was Sod Off and Fuck Off... two sides of a coin called poetry of love and life... deleted dreams broken dreams..