170,263 items / 1,322,853 views
We share a common friend Heena hijra from Peela House Red Light area of Mumbai that I visited as a photographer documenting the pain , the struggle in coming to terms with the androgynous dichotomy of their gender..I spent many a hours talking to them understanding their angst their vulnerability their defiance against all norms of hijra hating male chauvinistic society that considers hijras as chakkas and untouchables.
The access to their soliciting dens was never easy be it here or Shuklaji Street Foras Road or the Hijda citadel of notorious fame called Kamatipura Gully No1.
I knew Zeenat hijra guru of Kamatipura Gully No1 so I even took my American friend Dr Glenn Losack MD there but the building was being refurbished and we missed the photo opportunities.
Most of the hijras thanks to a powerful mystical network know that I have a hijra guru Laxmi Narayan Tripathi..so I gain access and trust and besides I have the blessings of Ma Madhurima Hijra Guru No 1 of Park Site Vikhroli.
I was also close to late Nayak Raginiji May Her Soul Rest In Peace...guru of Ma Madhurima..
Of late I have not gone to these watering holes of hijra fame , I dont know why, I dont stalk hijras they meet me at crossroads of life a predestined calamity or my cosmic fate that I call Hijda Vardan.
I shoot hijras as human being integral part of society, and have always been against the draconian Indian law Section 377 an anti human law a racist biased law we inherited from repressed British Empire I call British Vampire...It sucked the human soul dry.
I dont sell my pictures my hijra stories I respect hijra society and their struggle to enter the mainstream and live the life they chose.
My Poem
the angst of the hijra
untouchable caught
through my camera lens
heaving tits immense
castrated catastrophe
born a male a biological
travesty of gender
in captivity in suspense
whoring begging dancing
to make ends meet
body and soul to cleanse
beaten raped battered
sodomized makes
no sense living
in inhuman ghettos
among mafia dons
local goons paying
hafta protection money
the story of neither
women nor men
leaving behind their past
their siblings sometimes
both their parents
to start a journey as a hijra
in a stinking pigpen
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
The Hijras of Mumbai
MTNL BROADBAND A NIGHTMARE ON DEMAND
photo courtesy Google images
I am a subscriber
MTNL Broadband
i am at their mercy for bad
service infrastructure
why i dont understand
this is technology in our land
corruption scams hope
of a nation on quicksand
so many letters of complaint
to their office at Bandra Reclamation
my poetic pain i wont expand
internet service provider
tasteless totally bland
MTNL broadband
a nightmare on demand
their linesmen come
change wires using
an old magic wand but
after some time
it is the same story
my cosmic fate caught
in catastrophe of a
screwed up cybernetic plan
tears i shed as a photographer
poet blogger i hope
their GM Of MTNL reads this
humanly understands
but if he has a Reliance
connection at his home
dont blame him
than this is my last
plea of agony
my sartorial satire
serendipity serenity
my bejeweled hand
my equity my home grown brand
Overblown Egos That Will Burst
170,261 items / 1,322,121 views
having a photogenic hand
shooting it every given time
my karma my dharma
my thirst
blessing
hijra tits
of peela house
hijra whores
nothing could be
more worse
it depends how
you read a picture
overblown egos
that will burst
ashes to ashes
dust to dust
in the beginning
as it was as first
On The Soul Of Humanity Moharam Never Ends
170,261 items / 1,322,177 views
navi comes
navi goes
ghame hussain
an eternal pain
never goes
its source
tears of mother zehra
as it continuously glows
who we are what we are
through our pain it shows
from our hearts into
parched sands of karbala
it flows a pain like a giant tree
millions of branches it grows
a poem as much as prose
shiasm up close
darkness blackness
a vacuous moment
of reflection and remorse
shot by a blogger firoze
dont blame me if
i still wear black clothes
my flesh my blood
my sweat my tears
a chapter that wont close
Poets Are Always Rooted To The Ground
170,261 items / 1,322,176 views
to mans destiny bound
fucked by the world around
caught in a cosmic chaos
of words cyclically
going round and round
among layers of pain
despair morbidity
their genus
can be found
a rare specie
demented
soundlessly
unsound
falling in love
as an experience
always on the rebound
a pictured prostituted pause
riding on a mouse moribund
morbid morose on the fucked
venus of her pubic mound
penny wise pound foolish
on new grub street
they abound
Long Live Egypt
170,261 items / 1,322,167 views
the dreaded
scourge
of humanity
the pharaoh
had to go
robbing his nation
of billions of dollars
invested over shore
evil at the core
the people
finally booted
him out
showed him
the door
once in a life time
every dictator
hits the floor
other middle eastern
overlords soon
will also have to go
enough is enogh
say the collective
will of the people
freedom once more
truth liberty justice
equality once
again scores
the free will of
the people
for the people
by the people
roars
a cry
of delight
happiness
at tahrir square
joyous
a new beginning
a new dawn of hope
rest assured
god riddance
to bad rubbish
when it rains
it pours
Happy Fucked Valentines Day
170,215 items / 1,321,922 views
to all my fucked friends
straight hijra transgender and gay
mortgaged to love a price they pay
fucked from asshole to eternity
wherever they stay comic chaos
that never pays not worthy of
poetic praise fucked
bottle necked dreams they chase
on the soul of disharmony they graze
going round and round cyclically
round the same fucked maze
acid rain purple haze
prostituted pause the same tune
plays the flesh was willing
the spirit it flays on good and bad days
hoping that the libido gets a generous raise
drinking pathani salajeet mixed in cold milk
with curds and whey wrinkled skin hair turning gray
to come or not to come you are welcome she says
my transvestite hoor androgynous noor chak de
remembering her in absentia a seminal soliloquy
on fucked valentines day facebook chat fucked
memories of going down under finally out phased
Two Month Eight Days Mourning Comes To An End
170,192 items / 1,321,210 views
athivi
2 months
eight days
mourning
brings
moharam
to an end
removing our
black clothes
into the
mainstream
of 9 rabilawal
we blend
red clothes
instead of red blood
only the genuine
lover of ahle bayt
will comprehend
lanat to the killers
of imam hussain we send
eid e zehra the mother
of all eids drives
shia haters round the bend
as the revelers vindicated
burning effigy of a rotund monster
voices lend a garden a smiling
mother will tend her bravehearts
mourners of her son
with no evil intent
necessity is the mother of invention
we certainly did not invent
ap ko eid e zehra mubarak ho
greetings on the soul
of humanity we extend
a poem in running blood
i have penned garam garam gul gule
made in lucknow style in all humility
i recommend to all my near and dear friends
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Shah-e-Mardan Sher-e-Yazdan Quwat-e-Parwardigar Lafata Ila Ali La Saif Ila Zulfiqar , originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1 ....
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Dargah of Hazrat Syed Ali Mira Datar Unava Gujrat , a photo by firoze shakir photographerno1 on Flickr. HAZRAT SYED ALI MIRA DATAR'S G...
