Death And The Unknown Journey, a photo by firoze shakir photographerno1 on Flickr. He was someones son, brother father I know nothing , I shot another mans death.. I shot the last writhing pain that a dead person gives to the living.. on the other side prayers for my friend continued .. and it was a sad somber moment but it comes in every ones life ..
I did not wish to add text but it was necessary to you all to know that this pyre I shot was of another person and through him I relived the pain as a son I lost my parents too and the void exists today.. I lost my father and a few months later my mother .. she loved my dad and did not want to stay away from him , she invoked death and it came to touch her love her humility..
And her heritage I carry with me is her Humility .. it can never be burnt or die..
The Cosmic Cycle of Death.., a photo by firoze shakir photographerno1 on Flickr. This was a body of another person at the crematorium , his friends relatives had come here completed the rituals and stood at a distance and I shot my own life and death.. as a metaphor of poetic pain..a lover of humanity a follower of hussain ..
The fire burns the ego and the spirit a new garb regains .. death a new life away from pain suffering who knows you might be or not be coming again .. through death a new path regain .. a new heart a new cosmic brain..
Memories , nostalgia holding you to the living by a cosmic chain ..
At The Gates Of Death The Hindu The Muslim Become One.., a photo by firoze shakir photographerno1 on Flickr. we cant hide we cant escape from death his sting a lesson from the setting sun whatever has to be will be his will be done we can play hide and seek but from death we cannot run hindu muslim christian only flesh after death become children of the only one leaving behind our worldly goods dreams that we had hastily spun om shanti om to a father from his only son
Most of these pictures would have not seen the light of day, I had not come here to shoot pictures I had come to offer condolences to a normal loving man a father like me..
I came to the Shivaji Park crematorium as instructed by Dr Bhujang Pai, I wore my traditional Malang clothes and came barefeet.
Before the cortege entered the crematorium the photographer who also shoots the GSB Seva Mandal Ganesha , armed with his camera told me to take some pictures of the cortege and so I decided to share this with those millions of friends of Dinesh Pai who are still not aware of his death or his funeral rites.. It happened to fast too suddenly, an accident and the flame of life was extinguished forever , and ye…
Mr Prem Chopra And Me, a photo by firoze shakir photographerno1 on Flickr. I have served Mr Prem Chopra for many years now .. he is the original get up king always trying out new looks in every films, he reads his dialogues in Urdu , highly educated very erudite but down to earth , no pride , totally human and extremely devoted to his career and his family..
The two villains that I have served for a very long time are Mr Prem Chopra and Mr Danny Denzongpa.
Prem Chopra (Devanagari: प्रेम चोपड़ा) is an actor in Hindi and Punjabi films. He has acted in over 400 films. He is famous for his soft spoken diction despite being a villain in most films.
Personal life and education
Chopra was born to a Hindu Punjabi family in Lahore on 23 September 1935 to Ranbirlal and Rooprani Chopra. He was third of six children. After the partition of India, his family moved to Shimla, where he was brought up. His father desired that Prem be a doctor. He graduated from Punjab University. Chopra married sister of  wife of late Bollywood showman Raj Kapoor, and they have three daughters: Rakita, Punita and Prerana. Punita is married to actor, Vikas Bhalla, while Prerana Chopra…
NAMASTE Once upon a time, there was an ashram in the Himalayas where a great sage and his disciples lived. They all respected their Guru not only for his knowledge, but also for his love and kindness towards all. Because of his kind nature he often accepted disciples who were spiritually immature. This resulted in silly misunderstandings and quarrels among some of his disciples breaking the peace and tranquility of the hermitage. One day the Guru was very disturbed to see their immature behavior even after his repeated advice. It saddened his good heart to see his disciples turning into slaves of jealousy and anger. His compassion did not let him throw anyone out of his hermitage. Instead, he sincerely prayed to God to give him a solution. He fasted for m…
Namaste, a photo by firoze shakir photographerno1 on Flickr. a word of peace love NAMASTE hope you can say OM is home on the way for your sins on earth you have to pay be nice to others you are here for a short stay your children are your wealth you give them love with love in your old age they will repay every day of your twilight when it comes one day your children are your memories that they will give to their children as a floral bouquet with tears in my eyes I have to say before you think of tomorrow do think of today don't get lost in transit a one time visit no fast forward no replay
our bleeding our matam hurts them the most they dont mind when muslim terrorist blood suckers suicide bombing humanity of ethnic cleansing boast it is only the shia ass they love to collectively roast they see our bleeding faces they see ghosts
unka dushman hamara pyara dost
for fuck sake dont ask me why pictures such as these I post
moharam a 1400 year old protest from village to village from coast to coast with our blood on the soul of yazidiyat we repost
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.
If Only I Could Tell You Why We Bleed .., a photo by firoze shakir photographerno1 on Flickr. the black page of islam accursed son of a satan yazid his evil intentions his hate against the holy progeny a war on the soul of humanity he decreed his lust for power his tyranny his gluttonous greed an evil seed a bastard an incestuous half breed for his life the imam did not plead he gave his noble head but he did not pledge his allegiance to yazid yazid is dead hussain lives we protest with our blood the blasphemous sacrilege of our creed by the greatest terrorist yazid