This Street Seller of Tadgolas Has Gone Through Lot of Pain, a photo by firoze shakir photographerno1 on Flickr.
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He is Indian, unfortunately he is a North Indian from the very land being governed by a young dynamic chief minister Akhilesh Yadav..
He is now settled in Mumbai in my state , he faced hurdles but he takes it all in his stride, sometime back his hand cart was seized by the hardcore ruthless inhuman Municipality officials , and no mercy shown , his hand cart was dumped at a very distant suburb, he had to pay a fine and to bring back the handcart he would have to hire a tempo so he gave up as the transport charges he could buy two more hand carts , sold his juicy tadgolas sitting on the roads and I would surrealistically hidden in the shadows shoot his pain..
I saw him the other day and he was satisfied with life , he told me he wanted to go back to his state support his young chief minister and rebuild hope.. in whatever way he could.
So these are stories I shoot of people who really mean nothing to you ..
Now you will ask me what is his name .. Sorry I dont ask people I shoot either their names or their life stories being a Mystic I read the shadows the highlights come out openly and reveal the nature of their journey..in this case of a Uttar Pradesh migrant known as a Bhaiyya .. almost a lashing bad-word..
There was a time to add punch I converted my images into black and white and I was good as I began photography shooting monochrome , I shot on Delta Ilford the best black and white film in the world..
I shot the streets on Velvia ASA 50 Aand I miss film and slides but it was time to let go once I bought a digital and let go of so many things, buying camera equipment lenses etc , let go of my camera club Photographic Society of India , let go of salon photography..
My life took a drastic turn I became a blogger , falling in love for the first time on the Internet on the verge of a second marriage , to a Inuit from Alaska I became a romantic poet and online love literally crushed my balls and my testicular fortitude than I fell in love again with a half mix Red Indian Italian whom I called the blog goddess .. and there too I hit dirt and rubbed my face in night soil of my ludicrous dreams , than came a Sphinx and accidentally falling in love with a nubile transvestite from Lahore , destroyed the poetry of my pedantic pendulous soul.. hitting one end breaking at the other ..
I decided to become less poet more human till I fell in love again , all my last three romantic adventures was on Facebook.
And it was the last episodic flash in the pan that burnt me completely I gave up , moved out and am now self healing my wounds among normal down to earth people at Google+.
I pimp my poetic past at Google+ I wont fall in love ever I keep repeating this to myself, I also bought a lucky talisman I now wear round what others call the brain ... and I am sure this time they dare not call me dickhead.
So life is changing for me , as a poet I believe in polygamous predestination the mind and soul..
And this is my first blog so to speak... and my only conceited daughter has finally started reading my blogs through my tweets and she re tweeted my dumb dichotomous love to her 190 friends ..
And barring a few all my good bad ugly friends are on Facebook member of a Klu Klux Klan run by a whiz kid,,
The transmigration of the Facebook soul to Google+ is not possible , they are all in a reservation , living the life as lost dreamers .. and making one man rich..
Among the billions that boast of being on Facebook I am the lucky one simply because Fuck- I am not on Facebook..
Even my grand daughters Marziya Shakir 4 year old Nerjis Asif Shakir GooglePlus Kid 9 month old are both on Google+
So I spun a tale from a fruit on the streets now my fruit of the loom deleted doomed .. castrated cacophonous chaos of a showroom manager .. no show just room..a cosmic poet they will one day from the same night soil exhume ...giving hope to vegetables and legumes ..
