Saturday, April 16, 2011

The School Called Street

180,585 items / 1,421,325 views



marziya sees a man
without hands without feet
the school of wisdom
the school called street
wondering
in her own child's way
why he like her
was not complete
he had eyes
mouth nose and teeth
but why this pain
did god bequeath
a human stump
of a tree
no roots beneath
a living corpse
amidst a wreath
a blunt broken
rusty sword
without a soul
within a sheath

Update
16 April 2011

This was shot on 7 0ctober 2009 Marziya was a month away from her second birthday and I had taken a risk bringing her here without telling her mom and my wife both would have blown a fuse had I told them I was taking her to St Michael Church Mahim , I took a chance I wanted to see as a street photographer in waiting the real life on the streets of pain and despair..

I spotted Appu , Marziya cant she is too tiny I gave her twenty bucks and told her give it to the person there she looked at me walked ahead and straight away handed it over to Appu my best friend.,. this is Marziyas street intuitiveness she sees pictures before they will become photographs this is the essence of street photography.. pure and pristine..street photography is like an ocean, it stretches beyond the horizon of time and space and beyond the limitations of the human eye.

Marziya is gifted we all know it..but she is not special she is a normal who plays with her dolls her leg go all alone she is imagines she talks and she converses with the other side .. that she sees not anyone else.

She will take the miniature toy camera place her doll on a stool pretend taking pictures changing her perspective and the angle of the doll with subject to light.. hard to believe but than some photographers bring the gift of photography from their mothers womb.

The Shia Blogger of Bandra

180,585 items / 1,420,957 views

When bad times came and they keep coming I sold this 80/200 ED lens for Rs 15000 ..so that I could make a trip to placate my human soul shoot Moharam , I have one sponsor her name is hallowed Bibi Fatima , carrying her wet hanky I move from city to the next barefeet shooting Moharam.. every year..

And invariably during Mohram or even during the Urus of Ajmer Sharif I will have hordes pf problems emotional financial everything but I manage


I was broke my bad karma and through help of a friend I shot Chehlum in Hussain Tekri Jaorah..and I have no curiosity or urge to shoot Karbala if I did get a chance I would give my ticket to the next deserving person , my Karbala lies in Hindustan and I shall go on shooting it as long as I am alive.

When I say broke dont get me wrong it is not the fare but the responsibility of my workspace rent salaries etc..so running away from my responsibility to shoot divinity is not my idea of spiritual escapism ..


I shoot my faith as passionately as I shoot another mans faith and because I respect his faith he respects my faith too,..

And my camera is in bad shape blood of the Shias and gulal of the Hindu gods is what holds eternity in a black box..and Jesus and the Holy Spirit too I think..

This is an update this picture was shot at Kaisar Bagh 8 Moharam,

Can You Tell Me What Marziya Was Thinking When I First Shot This Picture?


180,585 items / 1,420,918 views

When I shot this picture Marziya was 23 months old.


I can tell you what she is thinking now as she sees the picture on the computer updated today.. she says his hands his legs got broken by a car...and I show Marziya the pictures of her birth when she was merely 2 days old and love to hear her chatter , mind you I am not her father but I had a camera being a blogger I shot her prolifically .. and Marziya was my first grand child...

She relives her earliest days on this planet through my pictures and I relive my daugter through Marziya and Marziya is mu eldest sons child.

I am a Dada but not a Nana yet..

So pictures holistically y heal perhaps also heal you out there and pictures touch the soul of humanity the only chord that connects us with God.

Dariyawala Alam at Carter Road

Mizane jehalat me gauhar tol raha hai, Paimana e tabligme sab ghol raha hai,Gar YA ALI kahene par koi toke to samjo, Shaytan ki mahefil se koi bol raha hai

Maulana Yasoob Abbas And The Barefeet Blogger of Bandra

Dashing Dynamic Maulana Yasoob Abbas

Marziya Might Wear A Turban Too

Marziya Will wear The Hijab Eventually

Marziya Shakir Worlds Youngest Street Photographer

180,585 items / 1,420,753 views

You dont need a camera to shoot pictures the body is a camera storing memories moments burning it on the disc of the mind..and they live on forever they dont go, embedded deep in the psyche..

I carried Marziya on my waist she was my first grand child my second chance it was like carrying my own dear daughter Samiya on my waist , and unfortunately I had no time for Samiya or my boys as I had sold my Shia soul to the devil in a booze bottle , there was no escape all memories of that part of my life fills me with immense pain of the pain I might have caused my family my friends luckily I have no relatives..


And I dont want to walk down memory lane as a cripple , sometimes I close my eyes try to imagine myself without hands without legs just a log lying on the streets like Appu..try imagining it even though you may not be a poet , you will understand my pain my guilt the journey of life of my afflicted soul..

So Appu and I have always got along he is a beggar to everyone save me, the first time I met Appu was many years back and it was at Chor Bazar , I was a regular Friday Flea market visitor and he sat next to Mutton Street corner close to the Bohra mosque.

I began taking his pictures a huge crowd collected , this is Mumbai they just appear disappear in a flash..
Appus relative handler was upset she came out from the shadows began verbally abusing me that I would take his pictures selling it to the foreign newspapers I had not begun my journey on the internet.. I was a fucked camera club salon participating photographer my photography world was a world with blinkers.

I was deeply hurt at the accusations and ta Appu saw a tear drop from my eye and we became one in a single moment and I will digress I walked from Thane to Mulund during the cloud burst when Mumbai was flooded and when I reached Chunnabhatti I was carrying the weight of an old man with me , and I was praying for Appu .. the waters were over 15 feet at some places that was a night I never forgot I walked from Sion home barefeet we stayed near Mehboob studios .. and when I reached home the lines all jammed I waited on the streets for Asif Shakir my eldest son he walked from Mira Road to Bandra .. and when I hugged him I knew that at times Fatherhood can be greater than Motherhood.

And Appu stayed in the same inundated area, I never asked him how he saved himself till date I have never asked him how he became a limbless human being.. just could not ever ask this question , the same way I never asked a Hijra why from a man he became woman.,.
Some questions have silence as answers

This was a blank post I had accidentally disabled it from public view and I am adding fuel to fire..

And this where Marziya came of age and the youngest street photographer in the world began her tyst with photography shooting pictures without a camera..

Fuck who says the camera takes pictures .. for once you are stumped .. no pun intended ..

Appu and Marziya Tryst With Destiny

180,585 items / 1,420,734 views

This was shot on 7 Oct 2009

This is for the furious physician my trusted brother and Marziyas god father Dr Glenn Losack MD ..from Manhattan New York .

Since last few days I had thought of bringing Marziya Shakir my 23 month old grand daughter and Appu my best Friend face to face..Appu is a set on Flickr a very precious set of a person without limbs who walks tall, and made me go barefeet for life..

I normally dont take Marziya very far , mostly in and around Bandra , but I put her in a cab and reached the spot where Appu sits, I did not show Marziya - the form of Appu , I came from the back but Appu saw me and gave me a smile , I gave Marziya Rs 20 and than told her to go give it , without pointing to Appu..
Appu watched all this from a distant .
Marziya was a bit confused looked around , spotted Apu and without hesitation went towards him to give him the money , but Appu has no hands and she kept wondering, but she never looked back at me ,,, this was Marziyas first meeting with life , a life called Appu , her second lesson in Charity after the Umbrella lady of Bandra Reclamation..I called Marziya and told her to place the money in his bowl, while he patted and blessed are with his eyes.

Appu and I are friends since almost 9 years or more I am bad with dates ..his earliest pictures I shot on film.. at Chor Bazar a market I visited every Friday once upon a time..
Shooting Appu creates a crowd and traffic problem as he sits on the road , and the entire area gets unmanageable , today being the St Michael Novena and a weekly market day for the pilgrims and devotees,I took some more shots and making Marziya walk some distance hopped into a cab back home and ended shooting two rallies of Baba Siddiqui Congress I and Rahebar Khan Independent candidate that passed by my shop.
All this while Marziya hung on my waist I had fortified her with Orange juice.. and given her later to my shop help.

Marziya shot the rally to assisted by me ..and I dont know what she sees in the viewfinder but her pictures and mine are almost identical...I help her press the trigger though..

update
16 April 2011

Has seeing all this made Marziya Shakir a beater photographer than me than the answer is yes..I learnt photography very late in my life I was over 40 and already over the hill..had I not taken the camera or given up the booze bottle to which I was horrendously addicted I think I would be lying in an unmarked Alcoholic Anonymous grave.. the camera saved me and later it was Marziya who resurrected me from Death..

And I dont know where Appu has disappeared but I want Marziya to shoot him and me together the circle of a part of my life would be complete.

And these are the best pictures of Marziya Shakir and Appu..

Today Marziya has come a very long was she is 3 and a half years old ..she began her primary schooling when she was 16 month old..and without boasting or giving in to conceit she can shoot pictures with her eyes in a blindfold.. that is how I taught her shoot the darkness create light..

An Upcoming Sportsman Omkar Shelar

Memories of The Irani Bakery

180,580 items / 1,420,691 views


those who live at imamwada
moghul masjid area are lucky
is all i can say with maska brun
they begin their day keeps
their brains fresh so little
they pay kadak pav
meetha bun ki jai
irani tazgi tandurusti
aur yadein hum nahi bhule
ek bar phir dua hai
mashad ko chulen

to mansoor showghi yazdi
my first poem from the furnace of my mind

For Once I Am Happy That I Dont Blog At Wordpress

180,579 items / 1,420,671 views

the soul of a blogger
with a sledgehammer they bless
is it because of the color of my skin
or the way i dress i cant guess
more or less photographerno1
hijdaeunuch blog has luckily
gone out of their realm
change of address
flickr blogspot twitter
a blogger gets more respect
in all humility confess
a blogger is a soul of humanity
enhancing the beauty of
the wisdom freedom of the press
to see shoot sincerely express
without editorial constrains
self moderation without stress
riding the crest my feelings
without malice i got it off my chest
of what use is a nest where
as a human being dont get respect

Aurat Ke Bhoj Sirf Aurat Samajti Hai

180,576 items / 1,420,667 views

garajti hai
brasti hai
ek chingari
jo shadi ke bad
jahz na milne par
puri trah jalti hai
kabhi kabhi
hawa aisi chalti hai
phanke se latak ti hai
marad kya jane 'aurat
ka bhoj uski kokh
bazaron main lut ti hai
palne se kabar tak
siskiyan bharte hue
dam guthi hai
mehndi ki tarah
kut ti hai


aurat ke bhoj sirf aurat smaj ti hai
bazaron main dulhan ki trah
har ek naye dulhe ke liye saj ti hai
mandir ki ghantiyon main
azan on main uski dard bhari
aah mardon ke liye nikalti hai

Meri zindagi ki gadi bhi dhakke laga ke chalti hai

In Mumbai Jesus Has His Back Against The Wall

The Dance of Death- Tandav on the Soul of Shimr

180,569 items / 1,420,314 views

My kama matam pictures shot by Baqar Nasser and he shoots brilliantly and the other person who could create magic to Moharam pictures is my American Jew blood brother Dr Glenn Losack MD., I call Glenn my brother because we both are wanderers we are genies we live in the dark crevice of our camera.

Doing kama matam on the streets is one way of showing humanity and the non shias , the pain we live through, if anything connected with the Holy Prophet is sacred so is our love for his grand son Imam Hussain.

Yazid was a Muslim and so Muslims of a certain kind do not want to hurt the sentiments of Yazid soul by heaping murder on his head so they glorify him , and historians of Islam have been paid to distort the Battle of Karbala , but each Moharam we remind them of our pact,..our blood vindicates the soul of Princess Fatima, we are her drops of tear we were born and Hussain lives.. we keep his pain his pledge alive.

I cut my head several times this year , and I shall continue doing so, whether I am called a heretic I dont mind I know being a heretic is far more superior than killing human beings in the name of Allah and Islam.. I distance myself from Salafi Wahhabi Ahle Hadees Islam..It maybe good for them it is not for me I follow Hussain he brings me close to my quest to my Godliness.

And amazingly when a Muslim kills other minority Muslims there is eunuch silence , but if a Shia cuts his own body his form of poetic expression , he is equivocally condemned .

We are a persecuted race in every Muslim country save Iran and the only place we are treated as humans is in a Hindu country and as a Shia I am proud to be a Hindu I would rather be called a Hindu Shia than a Taliban or a bullying Muslim who hides his face and sodomizes the soul of our religiosity of Man.

This is prose but if you read it as a poem than it is a poem of our Shia pain called Ghame Hussain.

Dance of Death Tandav on the Soul of Shimr

Shia Naya Sal Manate Hain Jise Ap Kabhi Bhul Nahi Pate Hain

180,569 items / 1,420,308 views

Every year on the day when Moharam begins Wahaabi Salafi Muslims send us New Year greetings knowing very well that we as Shia Muslims mourn for Imam Hussain his Martrdom during this period but than they have nothing but sectarian barbs in their arsenal..to attack us where it hurts most.. our reply..

Apni Taqdeer Jagate hain Tere Matam se
Khoon ki Rah Bichate hain Tere Matam se
Apne Izhare Aqidat ka Salika yeh hai
Hum Naya Sal Manate hain Tere Matam se

The Shia Slave

180,569 items / 1,420,278 views

manacled
enslaved
for a thirst
of liberty
equality
justice
he craved
a imam
who bought
him out of
the wilderness
of stupor
drunkenness
his soul saved
a cosmic chaos
hitting the shores
of his soul
wave after
to save
humanity
from terrorism
the tyranny
of yazid
his noble
head
he gave
karbala
ashura
a path
he paved
for 1400
years
we with our
blood sweat tears
hussain ya hussain
on the heads of our
unborn child engraved
a heinous crime
of shimr yazid
we never
forgave
in memory
of 72 brave
beshumar lanat
yazidiyat caved
bastardy
depraved

the shia waiting for the Apocalypse now in his grave..

The Pain Poetry Pathos of a Hindu Shia

180,567 items / 1,420,253 views

i am
a follower
of hussain
but because
hussain is humanity
touching time and space
i shoot
my culture
my ethos
my birthright
with dignity
with honor
with grace
i shoot
you your gods
as passionately as
i shoot my faith
my race
i say vande matram
as proudly from
within as on the surface
i am a hindu shia
doing tandav
dance of death
on the soul of yazid
always a bleeding head
Mother India my base

i have love
of my country
no other gods
to chase
i am human
not a bigot
not a racist
my ancestry
from the plains
of karbala
i trace
brahma
vishnu
shiva
ram
hanuman
ganesha
durga
on my flickr
photostream
as hope and hindutva
message of universal peace
with a click of a mouse
on your soul will resurface



Na Samyaktvasamam
Kinchittrikâlye Trijagatyapi |
Shrêyô Shrêyashcha
Mithyâtvasamam Nânyattanûbrutâm

humanity i embrace
me my god face to face

Ma


Ma, originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1.

Dear Internet User! Microsoft Company have donated £1,500,000 to you and your family

From


olanrewajub@mail.montclair.edu

Benjamin A. Olanrewaju


Dear Internet User! Microsoft Company have donated £1,500,000 Pounds to you and your family as a benefit for joining us in expanding the use of internet in your country. Contact: Mr.George MacVicar. Email: georgmacvicaas@live.com



i am
a fucked street
photographer
Benjamin A. Olanrewaju
has sent me a gift
a blogger always broke
in debt total sucker
penniless pocket less
poet fucker but
this huge gift
i want to share
with Woolongong mafia
yorrik and friar tucker
a barefeet poet
in love with a rose bud
cant touch or pluck her

Damir Plays The Didgeridoo

Damir Plays The Didgeridoo

Damir And Zlatko Cycling To India From Croatia

Damir And Zlatko Cycling To India From Croatia

Damir And Zlatko Cycling To India From Croatia

Damir And Zlatko Cycling To India From Croatia

Damir And Zlatko Strangers Who Became My Friends

Ok Firoze


Ok Firoze, originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1.

180,564 items / 1,420,157 views


winds kept
whispering
in my ears
her eyes
closed
silence
had become
a part
of a poetic
pause
as time froze
to touch
her up close
her lips
her tingling toes
me my poem
spasmodic
in deathly
throes
a specter
through
my souls
window
she comes
she goes
adding to
my pain
my worldly
woes
a thorn
making 'love
to a dainty rose
fecund
imagination
returns as prose
a bleeding head
some more
furrows
bellicose
at the mercy
of her ego
nice
ice water fire
her highs and lows
ok firoze
two words
penetrating
the layer
of my pathos
my pain
my poetry
part of my photo
a new awakening
to her i owe


if only you had not opened your dreamy eyes in deep repose
a moment lost in oblivion the poet and only god knows

I am the slave of her poetry of life

180,563 items / 1,419,822 views

call her
by another
name
call her
what
you will
she is
my inspiration
my muse
my imagination
my thoughts
my silent words
my talent
my skill
a wordsmith
pounding
the soul
of humanity
through a blog
a don quixote
spearing
distant
windmills
making
dreamy
mountains
of love lost
regained
out of molehills
boundlessness
silent sounds
goodwill
all placed
at the feet
of her freewill
an Indian sparrow
on her window sill
begging her
for a refill
baby fat
shedding weight
on a treadmill
my silent prayer
god wont fulfill
she me a void
time and space
all stand still
my flesh was
willing
my spirit
on her soul
over spills
chills
whether
she is
the spectral
essence of
my survival
that fits
the bill

until

hope
within
hope
another
hope
instills

the poets ass
barbecued
raw tender
sirloin
on a slow grill
lord of the flies
on a dunghill

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