Monday, April 2, 2012

As They Dug His Grave

in sepulchral silent
away from his dead
body he stood
watching his
pain of dying
the ultimate
he understood
kishore bajaj
nitin motwani
joseph jacob
his colleagues
his well wishers
towards the
vacuous hole
of his grave
eyes glued
he was taking
his passion
his pathos
his poetry
or his worldly goods
shooting the crowds
the beggars the hijras
the naga sadhus
that had come
to bid him farewell
his two grand daughters
nerjis marziya
tears rolling
down their cheeks
would miss their guru
a funereal thought
poetically imbued
asif saif samiya
wondered now
his last picture
no more be viewed
pickled poetry
no fuck words
just a stately sleep
no attitude
on the streets
in the neighborhood
ali maulah ali maulah
dam madar beda par
bam bam bholenath
they relized
it was not his grave
his body given
to medicine
his spare gray parts
burning on sandal wood

The beginning of this poem came as a dream.. as I woke up and it is nothing but a moment of timeliness ..that I have bought forwards .. giving flesh to a skeletal soul in search of nothingness as they dug his grave is a tribute to the gravediggers , nobody remembers them , neither the living or the dead .. and they are the only ones who see death in repose .. each time they bury a body.... and among these grave diggers were jobless educated youth.. who had lost hope and were doing the only job available that was better than begging on the streets..

I Know You Will Be a Great Street Photographer Nerjis Asif Shakir

because only
8 month old
you understand our pain
we will be slaughtered
so man paradise
can regain
no we dont believe
in reincarnation
but if given a chance
like you as a street
we would love
to come back again
little girl at karbala
they slaughtered
an innocent lamb
he saved islam
thy name is hussain

You shoot pictures I shoot poems humility and gratitude

The New Street Photographer Uses Her Eye As The Camera Lens

she observes
what she had
never seen before
in her life
8 month old
so intense
life not lived
is humiliating
your common sense
running after false
gods money
mans mind
so shallow
so dense
man is always
tense all
this she sees
a bleeding fence
who will mend it
the scary suspense
nerjis asif shakir
her gifted
camera sense
the cosmic lens
the moon and sixpence
be what you want to be
why all this cosmetic

dedicated to her
guru dr glenn losack md
from manhattan new york..
a few years later with pictures
to recompense

Mans Head Carries The Load of His Fucked life

Marziya Shakir Watches Poetry That Actually Creates Photography

i found god sitting with the beggars outside his house and gave them money eat

you might not believe but beggars that sit outside this church were in real sad state , and silently begged with their eyes,for them everyone that passed they thought he was jesus christ...they were holding to their lives precariously perched on a precipice...a single mouthful of cheese far too many mice ..watching them bemusedly on the other end with open hands a deviously diabolic lord of the flies..

and i am sure god sat with them he has abdicated his opulent home in the skies .. for him verily it mans earth his paradise..

i owe this poem that i just written now to denise boyd .. google pluskin
she said I love this photo and the words...well, they almost make me cry!

This is my new poem inspired by the words of Denise Boyd..I did give a large sum of money to the beggars outside the Church, and it was a involuntary reflex action, and it was so sudden that it took my friend Anil Shejale who was with me by surprise

The Goatherd Shot by Marziya Shakir 4 Year Old.. Canon EOS 7 D

Eye Ball Piercing Rafaee .. Chalak Ali

This is what I shoot , this is my passion for photography and this is hard core photography, these are fakirs or Sufi mendicants who do this to earn a living and they are people who give allegiance to Khwajah Garib Nawaz of ajmer.

I have documented this group Chancawalli Rafaees , shared their food their lives without joining them,and the late Handi Sai Peer told me many a times to become a part of them simply because I walked barefeet I dressed like them but I carried a camera .. to the public that came to see them at Mahim Dargah I was exotic unique and added mystery to their surroundings as a beggar in their group I got more money , I gave it all to Handi Sai.. and this was my essence of humility ..self destructing my ego..

I had problems because I documented their lives , some took offense as it is an esoteric group , they smoked hash freely I dont and posted my pictures online ..

They also knew I was a Shia and cut my head for real every Ashura and Chehlum..I was not inclined to become a Rafaee ..I was not interested I walk on fire during Moharam ..

But fate had some surprises in store for me I became a Malang by accident a higher holistic Sufi order..along with my Belgian photographer friend Marc De Clercq,,we have the same Peer and though we come from different worlds we became brothers for life.

And I am a known face among the various Rafaee and Malang orders was my association with the Rafaees that got me into shooting the hijra and eunuch community who are great believers of the Holy Sufi Shrines..

The rafaees are volatile people they pierce their eyeballs , their necks cut and split their tongues , at one of the Urus procession a Rafaee with dread head went into a trance and slashed my stomach with a sword.. and I stiffened my muscles nothing happened , my tshirt tore but my stomach had no marks , he was a crazy dude , he hugged me cried and said we were brothers ..

I too go into a trance called Kaif fall on the floor with my camera .. but am revived by the other rafaees with chants and holy water..

I also know an ascetic Monk I call Pagan baba , his order predates Adam and I have not met him for a long time..he is a nice old man who recites Sanskrit shlokas ..