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The moment a child is born, the mother is also born. She never existed before. The woman existed, but the mother, never. A mother is something absolutely new.
Friday, April 1, 2011
God could not be everywhere, so he created mothers., originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1.
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Children and mothers never truly part -
Bound in the beating of each other's heart.
-- Charlotte Gray
The Hijda The Hindu Shia And The Pujari of Maryamma Temple, originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1.
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I am called the Hindu Shia by my detractors simply because I shoot Hinduism and I am proud of it I d rather be a Hindu Shi than be anything else ,I dress like them and perhaps my body language is more Hindu than Muslim , I dont sport a beard I dont wear short pajamas or a long kurta I dont have the namaz mark on my forehead but because of the furrows on my head due to Kama matam in memory of Hazrat Imam Hussain the deep gashes and a bit of gray matter I cover my head with a turban.. I dont wear the quintessential Muslim cap at all.
Because my blogs are hijracentric and I enjoy shooting them gets on the goat of my own community bigots too..does not really affect me at all I am what I am I blog so I am .
I shoot Goddess Maryama feast every year thanks to my Tamil friends far too many Davendar Velu the high priest of the Juhu Maryamma temple are the main ones.
The next on the list are Ganesh head priest of Mahim fisherman's colony Maryamma temple , his family and his sister Laxmi. And the hijda Krishna in the picture in the blue sleeveless tshirt.
In Sion Dharavi it is the cheek piercer Raja and a young Punjabi boy who pierces his cheeks too Sam.
I was too pierce my cheeks with a 18 feet road but the head priest told me to wait for another year I might do it this year so show my solidarity with these Hindu Tamils my best friends and who respect my religiosity as much as I respect their own.
I shall walk with the rod as a follower of Hussain.. no other spiritual motive whatsoever..
I have shot this feast very similar to Thaipussam and gone into a trance too at the Mahim beach during the rod piercings..
This is an incredible feast I shoot it barefeet and most of the Tamils treat me like their brother..
At Sion Koliwada last year I shot the hijra piercing his cheek..and this was the best moment for me as it became a part of hijra blogs at Flickr.com.
This was a blank post I have added text just now..
The puja and the piercings on the beach either at Worli Mahim or Juhu start not before goat and poultry sacrifice.. this is a very hardcore bloody moment..
Last year the Juhu Marayamma festival did not take place as the Temple is being rebuild.
It will be held this year I was told by Davendar my friend.
And I wait for it eagerly last year my friend Marc De Clercq from Ghent shot it too along with his friends.
And the one person who would love t shoot this event is my dear friend Dr Glenn Losack MD.
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Māri (Tamil: மாரி),Tulu(mAri), also known as Mariamman (Tamil: மாரியம்மன் and Mariaai (Marathi: मरी आई), both meaning "Mother Mari", spelt also Maariamma (Tamil: மாரியம்மா), or simply Amman (Tamil: அம்மன், "mother") is the South Indian Hindu goddess of disease and rain. She is the main South Indian mother goddess, predominant in the rural areas of Tamil Nadu, Karnataka, Andhra Pradesh and Maharashtra. Māri is also closely associated with the Hindu goddesses Parvati and Durga as well as with her North Indian counterpart Shitala Devi
Māri likely originated as a village goddess related to fertility and rain. The goddess would have been a local deity, connected to a specific location, close to a certain tree, a rock or a special spot, mostly in rural areas. According to some sources, Mariamman is the same as Renuka or Yellamma and even Sri Chowdeshwari Devi. Sri Thailuramma Devi, Huchamma Devi, Manchamma Devi, Chwodamma Devi or Chowdeshwari are few considered elder sisters of Mariamma
Māri is usually pictured as a beautiful young woman with a red-hued face, wearing a red dress. Sometimes she is portrayed with many arms—representing her many powers—but in most representations she has only two or four.
Māri is generally portrayed in the sitting or standing position, often holding a trident (trisula) in one hand and a bowl (kapala) in the other. One of her hands may display a mudra, usually the abhaya mudra, to ward off fear. She may be represented with two demeanors—one displaying her pleasant nature, and the other her terrifying aspect, with fangs and a wild mane of hair.
Mariamman was the goddess of smallpox before the disease was eradicated in India. Now she cures all so-called "heat-based" diseases like pox and rashes. During the summer months in South India (March to June), people walk miles carrying pots of water mixed with turmeric and neem leaves to ward off illnesses like the measles and chicken pox.[why?] In this way, goddess Māri is very similar to North Indian goddess Shitala Devi.
Devotees also pray to Mariamman for familial welfare such as fertility, healthy progeny or a good spouse. The most favoured offering is "pongal", a mix of rice and green gram, cooked mostly in the temple complex, or shrine itself, in terracotta pots using firewood.
Some festivals in honor of goddess Māri involve processions carrying lights. In the night, the devotees carry oil lamps in procession.
Most temples to Mariamman are simple village shrines, where non-Brahmins act as lay-priests using non-agamic rituals. In many rural shrines, the goddess is represented by a granite stone with a sharp tip, like a spear head. This stone is often adorned with garlands made of limes and with red flowers. These shrines often have an anthill that could be the resting place of a cobra. Milk and eggs are offered to propitiate the snake.
Some temples have also attained enough popularity that Brahmins officiate at them. For example, the Samayapuram temple near the shore of river Cauvery in the northern outskirts of Trichy, maintains a rich agamic tradition and all rituals are performed by Gurukkal of Brahmins.
Punainallur, near Thanjavur (Tanjore), is the location of another famous Māri temple. Legend says that Mariamman appeared to the King Venkoji Maharaja Chatrapati (1676–1688) of Tanjore in his dreams and told him she was in a forest of Punna trees three miles distant from Tanjore. The King rushed to the spot and recovered an idol from the jungle. Under the king's orders a temple was constructed, the idol installed and the place was called Punnainallur. Hence the deity of this temple is known as Punnainallur Mariamman. Mud replicas of different parts of the human body are placed in the temple as offerings by devotees pleading for cure. It is said that the daughter of Tulaja Raja (1729–35) of Tanjore, who lost her eyesight due to illness, regained it after worshiping at this temple.
Other important temples of Mariamman in Tamil Nadu are in the towns of Veerapandi, Theni, Anbil (near Trichy), Narthamalai, Thiruverkadu, Salem, Virudhunagar and Sivakasi. In Chennai (Madras), a famous Mariamman temple is the Putthu Mariamman—the Putthu (ant hill) is across the road from the temple and is located on the Velachery Main Road.
Another famous Mariamman temple is situated in the state of Karnataka, in the town of Kaup, seven kilometers from the famous temple town of Udipi.
* Mariamman Koil, Pilakool
* Mariamman Temple, Ho Chi Minh City
* Mariamman Temple, Bangkok
* Mariamman temple no 4 veerapandi
* Mariamman Temple, Pretoria
* Punnainallur Mariamman
* Samayapuram Mariamman Temple
* Sri Mahamariamman Temple, Kuala Lumpur
* Sri Mariamman Temple, Penang
* Sri Mariamman Temple, Singapore
* Mariamman Temple, Pretoria
* Sri Mahamariamman Tempel, Sulzbach, Altenwald (Germany)
* Sri Mariamman temple, Brazil
In Hindu tradition, Mariamman is the sister of Lord Vishnu (Sriranganathar) and called Mahamaya.
The Samayapuram Mariamman is also worshipped on the first day of the Tamil month of Vaikasi by the Iyengar/Srivaishnava Brahmins of Srirangam. They claim that she is the sister of Lord Renganath (a form of Vishnu) of Srirangam. This is the second most prominent temple in Tamil Nadu, following Palani, on the basis of income.
Another version of the traditions suggests she is the mother of Parasurama, Renukadevi who is appeased for rains. She is also known as Sri Chowdeshwari Devi in most of the parts of Karnataka and Andhra Pradesh. In Mysore region she is worshipped as both Chowdeshwari Devi and as well as Mariamman. There are many instances where Mariamman has appeared to people in form an old woman wearing red sari with green bangles and three mangalsutras.[clarification needed] She is also regarded as the Gramdevata[clarification needed] of certain villages, thus reducing the incidence of contagious disease in these villages. Another version depicts her as Pattalamma, goddesses of truthfulness and punctuality. She is said to punish any villager failing to practice these virtues.
There are many Mariamman Temples outside of India, in Sri Lanka, Malaysia, Singapore, Thailand, Fiji, Vietnam, Germany and South Africa, the product of efforts of the Tamil diaspora. Some notable temples include the Sri Mariamman temple in Singapore, a Mariamman temple in Pretoria, South Africa, as well as one in Medan, Indonesia.[citation ne
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I saw her begging from the shops on Bazar road , face covered and carrying the agony of life, what is her story? Why does she beg?
And there are no NGOS even the more desired Muslim ones that would at least approach them fiind out the cause is it a collective cause that binds them all.
As a man I cannot talk to them I shoot their pictures I give them alms and what I give cannot change their karmic fate , and this will make the Muslims blush as most Muslims believe in Akhrat but not Karma or Dharma..I do metaphorically as a street photographer and street poet.
And the beggar lady who comes to my shop every Thursday with her child , she has three girls her husband works but they cant manage so I presume she begs.
She is going to her home town Andhra Pradesh.. I dont know her name the little one she told me has not yet been named, she is so photogenic that it is hard to believe she has a begging mother.
And so I shoot their angst , their voicelessness their faceless hopes , and document their struggle on the streets and the few are docile humble but there are many a haughty ones among beggars with sound proof attitude that would shock my poor grand mother in her grave at Talkatora Karbala in Lucknow..
I could write so much about beggars as the camera sensor not only reads light but eternal pain too as it falls on the soul of my cosmic consciousness.
But let me reiterate many a times I meet Muslim beggar ladies in hijab who follow me I dont shoot their pictures , I shoot on impulse and the poet in me has to decide before I take the shot the photographer in me is a dumb lazy son of a sea cook...
As a photographer I am nothing but point just aim and shoot and Marziya does it much better than me but here I must digress Marziya is a poet too with a divine eye that collects the pain of the street
much before it unfolds before her eyes.
Some pictures I shoot for the heck of it senseless stupid and meaningless and than all of a sudden in retrospection they become topical and base of my street poetry.. all my Jesus pictures are poems and you could be dumb and still read them and honestly without insulting your intelligence as a reader of this pedestrian blog it is better to be dumb than be wise in Mumbai in contemporary times.Wise is synonymous with pedagogue like the Tower of Babble somewhere in Mallu Land..pedantic and pompous .. this gentleman whom I refer too was a Facebook denizen a Muslim hater and a Hijra hater too... he was a termite infested encyclopedia on old books..the greatest bombast from the other side of the back waters of Kerala.
I luckily dont add people on Facebook even when it is randomly suggested but if their is a mutual friend I let down my blinkers .. why not..
And yes I confess I do PIMP my blogs on Facebook it helps my blog stats at Flickr shows about 200 referrals from Facebook to my photo stream per day...
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Mandy as he was fondly called stayed above our home at 3 Mohini Mansions Strand Cinema Colaba and was one of the cutest kids in our building lovable friendly , he was many years my junior , but he was very close to my younger siblings.
I lost touch with him as we migrated to Bandra , and after several years we met by fluke on Bandra Hill Road and on impulse I took this shot , we had no time to catch up on old times but he too has moved to Bandra Turner Road.
Than he added me on Facebook..old times old memories reawakening social networking site..
And my dear wife on seeing his picture said you should have bought them home for tea and snacks ... well I will next time I meet them..the invitation is still on...
The World of the Beggar Hijra Is a Prison Without Lights, originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1.
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in the stomach
black and white
from the soul of eternity
she fell from a great height
burnt roasted tanduri nights
shadow boxing her alter ego
every second she fights
a threadless orphan kite
cut by chinese manja
clinging to a live wire
of an electrical pole
what a sorry sight
the hijra is a poem
neither head nor tail
neither this nor that
a failed poetic plight
misfortune the hijras
airtight the hijra
a dark somber
the other side
a cosmic tragedy
all that glitters is not gold a picture i shot as a poem to rewrite a silhouette on my soul unites
The Artist shot by an Artist- Mr K G Maheshwari, originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1.
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shot by Mr KG Maheshwari
model late Mr B W Jatkar
“No great artist ever sees things as they really are. If he did he would cease to be an artist.”
mutually co exist
of a human canvas fit
beauty that the maker lit
more creatively they transmit
a part becomes a whole
even if you see a little bit
a thin line of demarcation
a circle of confusion
between the witless and the wit
one bequeaths a heritage
while the witless says I quit
Dedicated to Mrs BW Jatkar..a brave lady who faced the odds and was a sheet anchor to a great man Mr BW Jatkar....she faced all the storms and stood by him..may God give her the strength to bear this irreparable loss with the rest of her family..
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He was a nice cute guy living near the slums he was known as Asif , Ismail Chacha remembers him fondly but than Asif flew the roost I dont know that part of his life story he joined the hijra community and I met him at Bandra Bazar road , he became fond of Marziya my grand daughter and every time he came to the market he would drop in to inquire about her at my old workplace..
Than I shot him and his troupe performing at a neighbors pre wedding occasion..
Of all the hijra events this wedding performance dance is the most memorable not just because of the Hijra oomph but simply watching the old folks enjoying themselves the horny kids dancing and rubbing the hardest part of them with the gyrating hijras.
And mind you the hijras come tanked to be oblivious to their surroundings to the touch and go that follows , seeties cat calls and not to be missed Munni Badnam Hui...
There was another hijra performance but somehow I missed it and cursed myself..
Marziya does not get intimidated by the hijras and like me knows most of the hijras of Lal Mitti though she watches them in sheer fascination , its been a very long time I have not met Reshma , the hijras of Lal Mitti avoid the Bandra Bazar from the Bandra Reclamation end, because of the eve teasers we have plenty, so they come in quietly from the further end of the Masjid lane to reach the Bandra fish market .
Hijras of Bandra love fish and Raksh chela of Laxmi my hijra guru, makes fabulous fish curry Oriya style.. Raksha is a hot beauty full blooded from Orissa.
Reshma is also known by many names , but she is a charming hijra and a good human being..
Perhaps you guys at the other end of the spectrum on Facebook wonder why I write about hijras and this was a blank post I just added test, simply because I would get sick and tired stuffing my religiosity down your necks , or writing about the hackneyed news on Raja and Co.
In a way as a blogger I am never going to be short of stories they happen every second down below the lane where I live..
I dont stalk hijras but yes they follow me and we meet at cross roads thanks to destiny and androgynous fate.
And the beginning of a new morning of life... starts now
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His name is Mohomed bhai , he delivers tiffin to school kids , he and his cycle are a landmark of Bandra Bazar Road , he is absolutely humble polite soft spoken and never falls sicks, he told me God has been kind that he has fed little kids who are now proud parents and he is taking their kids tiffins too..
He has one grouse I have not yet given him a copy of the pictures I shoot of him , I tell myself I will do it but it never happens and I doubt he has access or knows anything about the internet.
He is living example of selfless service to society the same cycle the same quintessential attire and the same Bohra cap on his head..
Marziya Gives Rs 10 to the Umbrella Lady
Every time I take Marziya out near Bandra Reclamation, she will nudge me, so I hand her Rs 10 that she hands over to the poor Umbrella Lady.. who sits in one place, all the seasons are immune to her impoverished life style.
I shot her having a bath in the same position ..my wife was with me.
Marziya knows with money you get sweets toys, but here she is aware that what she gives the Umbrella lady will not get her anything in return..but a sweet smile .. and this is the lesson I teach Marziya , giving charity without compulsion, I teach Marziya along with photography the meaning of humility...
There is a gentleman called Mr Razvi who is very fond of Marziya , he had not seen her since her arrival , so he met me yesterday , and inquired about her , I bought him home and Marziya was happy to see him, I gave her my Nikon D80 and holding it partly for her , made her shoot Mr Razvi.. I helped her with the shutter button ..she took two shots one after the other.
The world seen from the camera is a world without any distortion , a world you see as it exists.,. the camera is veritably a message of peace I am teaching Marziya human values through the camera ..photography is essential but not important at this stage.
Yes I have my first and only disciple of photography , who is teaching me also to paint with light her thoughts , her emotions..
Since the swine flu outbreak she is ensconced at home but comes to my shop twice a day, she reads the world with her perceptive mind..
There is racism in poetry land
Perfectly laid out preplanned
If you bring it to the web site managements notice
They clip your wings and have you banned
And they accuse you as the aggressor
From the cooking pan of bigotry into
The fires of hate you land
Cornered from all sides
Into the mouth of a quicksand
White racism is a hard enemy to beat
If you are black and brown and belong
To a no mans land
Love for poetry and racism in poetry
Go hand in hand
Even those who love music
On your brown posterior
Will play the band
Yes it’s a black face of intelligence
They can’t stand
Your rise on the wings of poesy
They harbor envy
With the witches of Armageddon
They will finish you off
With their racist magical wand
Go refresh read the Fountainhead
By Ayn Rand
Concerned write in your own language
Not reprimanding you for your inadequacy
But a simple racist command
Banished from a racist Promised Land
No trial guilty till you are proven innocent
No justice no witness stand
Lopsided law of poetry land
Handcuffs of shame cutting into your brown skin
You are a criminal a tag
Attached to your bleeding wrist band
Your enemies poets with lose bowels
And anemic prostate gland
Some with bleeding rectums piles
Deteriorating endocrine gland
Arthritis carcinoma and pigeon chests
That pretentiously ape mammary glands
A Lousy lynching lass egotist fires
Of furious racist hate that she fanned
a yeti strangled
Without a single line of poetry she crashed land
Working as farmers tilling poetry
in uncultivated wordless arid lands
Racist coterie that searchlight
and other anti-racist websites must help disband
collectively take a very firm stand
On the passing away of the Racist poets call the Highland Military band
Racism is a cancerous disease eating the soul of humanity
Must be controlled curtailed not allowed to expand
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Who is going to win the World Cup Cricket Final?
Asked By l love music
we must lick
a good winning
we must pick
as a team
we must tick
Indian rope trick
or give them jamal gota
let them report sick
or invent some
ideas from a flick
India Jeet Gayi
dhin chak dhin chak
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i shoot him
so do i
we keep away
from such caucus
cruel and callous
the pain the pathos
of judas his sufferings
his life loveless luckless
his soul infected by virus
serving no purpose
A Mother Gives Birth To Pain.. That Lasts Forever, originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1.
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My dear friend Ashok Tyagiji Osho has lost his mother a few days back on 26 March 2011 , I can imagine the pain he is going through as not is he only a director of repute he is a poet too... reliving the pain of life , I lost my mother so I know the feeling of estrangement and lost illusions...
I offer Ashokji my condolence and hope he stands up faces this irreparable loss and rises against adversity against this loss as a pledge to his dearest Mother.
This is my Shradanjali to her indomitable spirit.
May her soul rest in peace Om Shanti Om..
After The Win Every Body In India Has A Big Head, originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1.
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jo jeeta woh sikanadar
koie bahar koie andar
dil dariya aur gand samandar
why we cant be over zealous
in other things nations welfare
no scams no corruption
better law and order
i often wonder
in a cricket match we plunder
but our greatest enemy
poverty ignorance religions strife
tears our soul asunder
every new political path
the common mans ass
surrendered beaten black blue
no more tender besides
the politicians that lead us
to our early death
to the almighty our soul we render
in some ways we are hijras
eunuchs in spite of our gender
our house our children our lives
mortgaged to the money lender
178,509 items / 1,399,023 views
as a poet
they call me
to some extent
my soul in a blog
of a cosmic
its hypnotic bareness
in all fairness
the heart says no
the flesh says yes
i have moved
a million light years
from matt and his word press
back to my hijda eunuch blogs
safe at flickr the new address
nothing more nothing less
the life of a colored man
was never a bed of roses
a thought expressed
a hurt a pain
i get it off my chest
yes i have finally
flown the fucked
east is beast
west is best
soul at rest
Shah-e-Mardan Sher-e-Yazdan Quwat-e-Parwardigar Lafata Ila Ali La Saif Ila Zulfiqar , originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1 ....
Ek Shahenshah Ne Banake Yeh Haseen Tajmahal Ham Gareebon Ki Mohabbat Ka Udaya Hai Mazak.. , a photo by firoze shakir photographerno1 on Fli...