186,255 items / 1,469,972 views
The poetry within his soul would die and the hijra may or may not have formal training in dance but dance comes to him naturally like fish takes to water after being hatched.. swishing  their tails in delight .. 
I love shooting hijras dancing during the sandal procession but is is a very crowded affair narrow lanes at Haji Malang and it is the beat of the drums that brings out the angst of the hijras .. when the hijra dances time stops completely.. though I continue to shoot pictures of their androgynous gyrations and pelvic thrusts on the soul of Man.
And I am new to photographing the soul of the hijras maybe five or six years but they have their spirit embedded in the soul of my camera I say this with sheer head bowed humility .. for me shooting hijras is not photography if it was you would see images these are movements of my poetry .. shot as pictures ..
I am street photographer a beggar poet .. I shoot misery cavorting with hope I shoot original content. I am Shia Sufi Hindu all in One
Friday, May 20, 2011
If The Hijra Stopped Dancing He Woul Die
Hijras Are Born Dancers Hijras And Facebook
186,255 items / 1,469,942 views
Rarely will you come across a hijra with two left feet , hijras love to dance it is their inheritance  their legacy from the God of the Hijras .
Dance is what keeps the hijras alive during badhai marriages and during the urus circuit..dance is what connects the hijra with god.. the hijra trinkets on hijra  masculine feet are the tools of his religious connectivity... the grace of the dance the flow the languidness keeps the hijra heritage alive.
Hijras were courtesans and their origins in a way could have begin in some rare cases through bacchebazi and laundebazi in the courts of the Nawabs of yesteryear s  this is my assumption  and lady boys later with the right indoctrination became absorbed in hijra communities and hijra mujra households.
I know that even today before the advent of the bar dancing culture hijra mujra was a exclusive congregational pastime of the rich and dance and courtesan kothewali loving culture..
Even today hijras perform at wedding pre nuptial parties and at political private bashes.. I know hijras who participate in these events and have confided to me with an oath of extreme secrecy.. of the orgies that take place too.
Hijras dancing in full flow at Haji Malang and Ajmer is a delightful sight  they are on a different planet so to speak.,.. and these two Holy Shrines Ajmer Sharif and Haji Malang keep hijra hopes expectations alive..today the modern hijra is cultured metrosexual  jet setting to new York Amsterdam and other exotic cities the hijra world which was once esoteric exclusive has become globally smaller with the advent of the internet..
Even rich kids who get tired of cross dressing give in to the charm and lure of becoming an Hijra.I know far many cases and Facebook has given an added edge to connectivity for the hijra restless angst.. hijra pages and hjra hopes .. hijras are vocal on Facebook more open and hijras hardly like micro blogging their soul on Twitter it would not fit in 140 words.. ha ha ha 
I talk of hijras not tran sexuals or transvestites or shemales..
A Poem On The Soul of Tears I Wrote
186,255 items / 1,469,303 views
a single
 swift 
blow 
to the nape 
of my 
emotions 
she smote 
a thought 
within 
an image 
my poetic pain 
emotes 
poets 
who fall 
in love 
with 
spectral 
beauties 
are bought 
sold at deonar 
sacrificial goats 
doomed deleted 
demystified 
debauched 
guilty as hell 
it was purgatory 
 where she was
 poached she 
was searching for 
silence 
peace of mind 
please note 
ruke sukhe
 dabewe hont 
khamoshi 
woh berukhi 
mothharma 
kha rahi thi 
dal mot 
woh kambaht 
waqt thama
 hua tha 
dil unka 
akrhot 
aye sama 
phir a laut 
a poet dies 
a million deaths 
his poems
 stay afloat 
on the edge
 of her 
ivory tower 
 she has placed 
killer crocodiles 
 a  moat 
a poet who
 loves her 
hates water
cant swim 
no boat 
wings of fancy
searching for a 
 dreamboat 
a pain residual
remorseless 
 to connote 
with the blunt
 butcher knife 
her bitter half 
cut his parched 
waterless throat 
he was dressed 
like Zorro 
a black mask 
a hat sweaty 
waistcoat 
broad buccaneer belt
suede black long tailcoat 
just in case the poet 
did not die he had bought 
a electrical wire as garotte 
mind you this is a poem i closed my hands 
my karmic fate ghostwrote ..love the greatest bigot 
born of a union of a zygote cutthroat
Somethings You Cannot See
only feel on the soul of your humanity
this is a picture i shot of a beggar masturbating in a beggars bowl..
We In India Send Our Children To Work At A Very Young Age
We In India Send Our Children To Work At A Very Young Age, originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1.
and he could grow up to be a kalam you dont know..
Motherhood Gets Fucked In India
Two daughter he will try for a son .. again a daughter fuck he will again try for a son.. yet again a daughter he will beat her till she finally out of fear gives birth to a son..this happens only in India..
jaahan paanv mein paayal, haath mein kangan
ho maathe pe bindiya motherhood gets fucked in india
Wild Ass
186,255 items / 1,469,225 views
remembering 
moments 
on the sands
 of time 
held captive 
in an hour glass 
moments 
that did not last 
the die was cast 
now considered 
positive poetry spam 
outcast typecast 
living in memories 
of the past 
nostalgic allergic 
synergistic blast 
cloudy weather
dry humid 
poetic forecast 
in the waters 
of a rapid 
overflowing 
river of her heart 
a broken down raft 
7 khoon maaf
Kick Ass
186,255 items / 1,469,217 views
there was 
a memory 
of sweet
 pain here
i let is pass 
poets 
live 
in the 
soul of 
donkeys 
in search 
of grass 
accidentally 
eyes half 
shut 
half open 
trespass 
on barbed 
wire hearts 
cleavage 
crevasse
corroded 
impasse
deleted dreams 
as broken 
down 
memories 
amass   
warned 
dont send 
mail 
dont call 
dont harass 
by a beautiful 
buxom lass 
a gaping chasm 
spasmodic spasm
A barefeet poet climbs taragadh
186,255 items / 1,469,217 views
broken wings 
dying bird 
clinging 
to branches
of hope 
on a tree 
of words  
transformed 
reformed 
wizened 
drunkard
rotten 
innards 
a facebook 
wall deleted 
doomed 
memories 
locked 
key thrown away 
of her cupboard 
poetry 
of pain the 
catch word 
a moment 
that once
 was poetry 
now unseen
unheard 
god created 
pain 
animosity 
to hurt 
poets 
who fall in love 
with silhouettes 
spectral beauties 
move upwards 
hacked 
forever 
a right 
username 
wrong 
password 
sucked 
in a vortex 
of her deceit 
illegitimate 
illusions 
of this 
bastard 
a touch 
turning 
milk into
 curds 
infected 
dreams 
of a clawless 
leopard 
ensnared 
unprepared 
moving 
onwards
The Soul of A Photographer Lies In The Heritage of Her Humility
The Soul of A Photographer Lies In The Heritage of Her Humility, originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1.
Shot by Syed Zarghamuddin 
Much before Marziya learnt to shoot pictures on Nikon D 80 she learnt humility , humility gave birth to charity , she collected money kept it in a tiny purse she shot beggars and paid them for posing for her.. and Syed my dear friend has caught Marziya and Marziyas inner soul..
And He Was Fucked Much Before You saw Him as a Picture
And He Was Fucked Much Before You saw Him as a Picture, originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1.
Man is the only animal that can remain on friendly terms with the victims he intends to eat until he eats them.
The Poets Liver Heart And Spleen
186,254 items / 1,468,725 views
poetic
 parts 
fleshy
lithe 
lissome 
 lean  
she cut 
out from 
his body 
swift and clean 
she added 
curry powder 
some chopped 
greens diced
 minced 
them together 
she added 
french beans 
a dash 
of lime juice 
a bit of 
mangosteen 
sweet sour spicy 
a bit namkeen 
some soyabeen 
as added protein 
she loves cooking 
pure and pristine 
her eyes blindfolded 
the poets pain unseen 
making haleem 
a childs play 
for this warrior
 beauty queen 
hunting wild boars 
runs in her genes 
she the holiest 
of the holy 
she hates 
hijras 
in betweens 
once in lahore 
with sheer 
disgust clapping 
their hands 
she had seen 
she was perhaps 
in her teens 
sweet sixteen 
she thought 
they were 
horrendously 
obscene 
she drinks 
a lot of water 
she hates 
caffeine 
she is 
one mean 
machine 
poets
she loves 
to demean 
she is hate 
beneath 
her innocence 
her satin sheen 
he silken throaty 
laughter shots 
of cloudless 
morphine
She Spat In My Beggars Bowl Walked Away
186,254 items / 1,468,720 views
leaving 
behind 
my sheaf 
of poems 
in disarray 
she came 
to my life 
in April 
slaughtered 
my soul 
in May 
love 
sweet decay 
it is women 
that break 
poets hearts 
walk away 
to my poetic pain 
my dismay 
accursed day 
of my life 
a game she 
enjoyed 
to play 
gilded beauty 
feet made of clay 
searching  for a 
needle of hope 
in a stack full of hay
Two Beggars On The Cross Roads of Life
 131,384 items / 976,625 views
He is a beggar his contorted body and my contorted soul is entwined ..I am a beggar too.. she came felt sorry for my fucked state of poetry threw a few coins in my beggar bowl.. than in a single stroke of anger she just smashed the beggar bowl and walked away...
And I pay my respect to him every year he blesses me I bless him... within the shores of his pain my pain grows.. and I hate sea shells on the sea shore the sea shell she sold was not a seashell I am sure the sea shells she sells are gutter water threw the sewer..I am sure..her charm her deceit her allure... pain pristine poetic and pure.. maro ya jiyo..incidentally jiyo was my dads nick name..
I Just Met Him At Makdhoom Shah Babas Dargah Today
I Just Met Him At Makdhoom Shah Babas Dargah Today, originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1.
131,153 items / 975,138 views
 I am updating this post today actually I met him last evening at Bandra Station I had gone to Futture Studios to meet Mr Shakti Kapoor for some work, on my return on the over bridge I went to him and asked him if he was coming to Ajmer for the Urus he said was trying I told him about my chances being bleak going to Ajmer he said he would pray for me.. I shot his pictures last night.
This evening I had gone to meet Sakib my florist friend at Mahim dargah road I saw him again I told him if he remembered me he said I had met him last night at the station , he is blind but his sense of smell is very powerful..
I gave him some money today .. and again he said he would pray for me so I reach Ajmer..I did not shoot him today..
Peersaab Fakhru Miya Hujra No6 Ajmer And a Beggar Poet of Mumbai
Peersaab Fakhru Miya Hujra No6 Ajmer And a Beggar Poet of Mumbai, originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1.
186,254 items / 1,468,626 views
Through the prayers blessings of Peersaab Fakhru Miya of Hujra No 6 I saw Ajmer Sharif I waited a life time ..It took me over 45 years or more to reach Dar e Ajmer..another name for Dar e Hussain..
I saw a dream and message and and life changed for me forever... 
Shah ast Hussain, Badshah ast Hussain
Deen ast Hussain, Deen Panah ast Hussain
Sardad na dad dast, dar dast-e-yazeed,
Haqaa key binaey La ila ast Hussain
Loosely translated
Ruler is Hussain, Emperor is Hussain,
Faith is Hussain , guardian of faith is Hussain .
Offered his head and not the hand to Yazid.
Truly, the mirror of faith is Hussain
And Jahane Rumi guided me over across the threshold to re-search myself my poetry my passion my pathos for Hussain...
Qatl-E Hussain Asl Men Marg-E Yazid Hai Islam Zinda Hota Hai Har Karbala Ke Ba’d
Karbala Nasib Se Jana Nasib Ho
Pher Laut Kar Wahan Sa Na Ana Nasib Ho
Aisa DAR-E-HUSSAIN A.S Pe Sajda Ho Akhri
K Mujha Apna Sir Na Uthana Nasib Ho
A Poet With Broken Wings
186,254 items / 1,468,608 views
poets enter
 where angels
 fear to tread
poetry pathos 
passion share 
 life is 
nothing but 
an unending 
nightmare 
when you 
fall in love with 
a goddess 
she calls 
it an affair 
rapunzel rapunzel 
led down your hair 
dreams that a poet 
dares love 
is nothing but 
second hand goods 
sold on a market square 
living on hope fresh air 
encircled chaos cosmic 
warfare all is fair in love 
deleted doomed despair 
a single phone call 
in her web of deceit 
i was ensnared 
pouted lips 
curved nose 
dark haired 
a moment 
in timelessness 
my love to
 her i declared 
i will tie a challa 
at jannati darwaza 
to get her back 
i swear 
if i make it 
on broken wings 
barefeet
to ajmer 
cupid 
dont
 taunt me 
beware
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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...
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Phir Saal bhar ke baad Gam-e- Shah Ayega, Zinda jo Rahega wohi ye Gam Manayega , originally uploaded by firoze shakir pho...
 
 
