Sunday, April 22, 2012

REST IN PEACE DINESH S PAI

Rest In Peace Mr Dinesh PaiGood Bye Mr Dinesh Pai..On The Shoulders of Your Friends You Leave MumbaiThe Last Journey of Mr Dinesh S PaiThe Last Journey of Mr Dinesh S PaiThe Last Journey of Mr Dinesh S PaiThe Journeys End ..When Life And Death Into Oneness Blend
The Last Journey of Mr Dinesh S PaiThe Last Journey of Mr Dinesh S PaiIMG_4598The Last Journey of Mr Dinesh S PaiThe Last Journey of Mr Dinesh S PaiThe Last Journey of Mr Dinesh S Pai
The Last Journey of Mr Dinesh S PaiThe Last Journey of Mr Dinesh S PaiThe Last Journey of Mr Dinesh S PaiThe Last Journey of Mr Dinesh S PaiThe Last Journey of Mr Dinesh S PaiThe Last Journey of Mr Dinesh S Pai
The Last Journey of Mr Dinesh S PaiThe Last Journey of Mr Dinesh S PaiThe Last Journey of Mr Dinesh S PaiThe Last Journey of Mr Dinesh S PaiThe Last Journey of Mr Dinesh S PaiWhere The Onward Journey Begins ...

REST IN PEACE DINESH S PAI, a set on Flickr.

I Came To Offer My Condolences Ended Up Documenting the Humility of a Man

Just Me And Jesus Watched The Silent Dance of Death

I Did Not Know Losing a Friend Could Kill Me Too

Death And The Unknown Journey

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..

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..

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

Good Bye Mr Dinesh Pai..On The Shoulders of Your Friends You Leave Mumbai

I shot these pictures of my dearest friend Mr Dinesh Pai, whose untimely death touched us all, as he touched us leading from the front , in humility and gratitude..

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 yet this flame glows effervescently in the hearts of his daughter Anita son Amit and the immediate family close relatives.

I met Dinesh Pai through a comedy of errors I was never close to him I did meet him many years back through my dear friend Dr Bhujang Pai.. but I was close to another Pai who handles the security and surveillance at theGSB Seva Mandal Kings Circle..

When son Saif was getting married at IES grounds I took the address of the security handling Pai and sent the wedding card and it turned out to be Dinesh Pai.. I never told him that as we knew each other and thus began a very close friendship.

For the last two years Dinesh Pai would personally phone me invite me to the GSB Lord Ganesha celebrations , and I would come shoot the Lord and his last journey, being a diabetic I could make it barefeet following the Lord from King Circle till Sena Bhavan than would take a taxi home..

And he would call me find out how I was doing , I was close to his daughter Anita till I was on Facebook, but than I moved to Google+ lost touch and the last call Dinesh Pai made to me was to tell me his daughter was in town I told him to bring her to my house to meet my wife family and grand kids .. but it never happened .. the Lord had decided to call Dinesh Pai home..

I am inspired by the Gaud Sarswat Brahmin story of struggle and success in Mumbai, they came from the South worked hard and made Mumbai a peacful place with their contribution offering employment hope to the citizens of Mumbai.. they became part of the ethos of Maharashtra Mazha ..and so I would shoot this at the GSB Seva Mandal .. and most of the older GSB initially were wary about me I dressed like a exotic being and mostly because photography is not allowed in the GSB Seva mandal premises Dinesh Pai Bhujang Pai and other senior members gave me the requisite permission..

And I shot passionately I shot through the eyes of the GSB and I am a Shia Muslim .. I became a GSB myself behind the camera I shot hope the furure of this loving community I shot the volunteers the mothers searching for prospective grooms invoking the Lord .. and the Lord used me as his instrumental tool to tell the story of his people..
And today I have tears in my eyes I have not stopped crying since I came from the funeral pyre I called Anita told her I was sharing those moments to remind people of a Lost Journey.. How can I glorify Death.. I can only glorify God who chooses the time and place to call us back after we have completed our stint on this rang manch of Life.

I collapsed when I saw the body of my dear friend Dinesh Pai..I was not close to him but his death hit me the hardest..I have no answers .. no questions .. And the only time I cried like this was when my childhood friend Ramesh Alva died .. and left me his memories ..

I am a poet and I was shooting the poetry of a kind mans vision his humility that he leaves for us.. he was the server of Lord Ganesha .. he prayed for us .. and now I pray for him and wish him a very long spiritual life with Lord GSB Lord Ganesha.

I wish Anita Amit and the rest of the family the strength to bear this irreparable loss ..

Om Shanti Om ..

Sri Vakratunda Mahakaaya
Koti-soorya samaprabha
Nirvighnam kuru me Deva
Sarva-karyeshu Sarvadaa

The Greatest Villain of all Time Mr Prem Chopra-"Prem naam hai mera Prem Chopra."

Mr Prem Chopra And Me

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.

Mr Prem Chopra- Prem naam hai mera, Prem Chopra"

I was at Mr Prem Chopras house for giving him a fitting for his new clothes and took these few shots..

About Mr Prem Chopra from Wikipedia

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.[1] He was third of six children. After the partition of India, his family moved to Shimla, where he was brought up.[citation needed] His father desired that Prem be a doctor.[citation needed]
He graduated from Punjab University.[1]
Chopra married[2] sister of [3] wife of late Bollywood showman Raj Kapoor, and they have three daughters: Rakita, Punita and Prerana. Punita is married to actor, Vikas Bhalla,[4] while Prerana Chopra is married to actor, Sharman Joshi.[5]
[edit]Career

Among his early films he played Sukhdev in Shaheed, one of his rare positive leading roles. After Teesri Manzil and Upkaar, he was flooded with films as a villain. After Upkaar in 1967, he left The Times of India.
He has ever since been a leading villain in Hindi films. The dialogue " Prem naam hai mera, Prem Chopra" (My name is Prem, Prem Chopra) from the film Bobby has been very popular. Another famous Prem Chopra dialogue is "Mai wo bala hoon jo sheshay se pathar ko todtee hai" which closely translates to "I am that trouble which crushes stones with glass".
Of late, he has started taking comic and character roles too.
He had a good career spanning 35 years and was popular for villain roles in Bollywood.
[edit]Awards

1976 - Filmfare Best Supporting Actor Award for his role in Do Anjaane
2004 - "Legend of Indian Cinema" Award at Atlantic City [1]
Amongst other awards won the Giants[clarification needed] honoured him with the "Lifetime Achievement Award". His talent won the Indira Gandhi Priyadarshini Award in 1998, and has also been a recipient of the "Lions Club Award", "Ashoka Award", "Ashirwad Award" and the "Punjabi Kala Sangam Award".[6]

Bollywood selected filmography
Woh Kaun Thi
Upkaar
Trishul
Anari No. 1
Saawan: The Love Season
Dhamaal
Kaala Patthar
Bobby
Souten
Raja Babu
Delhi-6
Daddy Cool
Rocket Singh: Salesman of the Year
World Cupp 2011
Golmaal 3
Patiala House
6 December
Dharti (2011)
Agent Vinod

www.premchopra.com/career.htm

Nerjis Asif Shakir 9 Month Old Google+kid

My Grandchildren Can Proudly Say Hey Look We Are Not On Facebook

Nerjis Asif Shakir Joined Google+ The Same Day She Was Born

known as the
google + kid
she ushered
in our lives
a new dawn..
with her auspicious
arrival our bad days
had totally gone
nerjis asif shakir
aspiring street
photographer
in our house
was born
a new hope
green glorious
in our family's
lawn from
our homes
thanks to her
our bad luck
stands
withdrawn

Namaste To My Friends On Google+

to everyone of you who has added the barefeet beggar to his circle

post dedicated to Jack C Crawford


sent by a 90 year old internetter my photoguru..



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 many days, and spent the days by himself in meditation and prayer.
After some days of fasting and intense prayers, he had a vision of the Lord. In the vision, God asked him why he was sad. He explained everything and requested Him to come to the ashram and free their minds of jealousy, anger and desire for power. To his surprise, the Lord immediately agreed and told him that He would come to the ashram on one condition: He would come in disguise as one of the disciples and nobody would know who was God in disguise. The Guru announced to his disciples about his vision and Bhagavan’s kind decision to come as one of his disciples.
The disciples were very happy when they heard about Bhagavan’s plan to come and live with them in disguise. But they did not know who was Bhagavan and everybody was very gentle and considerate to each other thinking that the other disciple might be Bhagavan Himself in disguise. When they lived like that for a few months, peace and tranquility filled their hearts as well as the hermitage.
In their pure minds, they felt the Lord’s blissfulpresence and they started treating each other and thinking of each other as none other than Bhagavan Himself in disguise! The whole ashram was reverberating with blissful positive vibrations emanating from everyone! This great sage and his disciples told their experience to others and inspired them also to respect each other and to pranam to the divinity in every one.Since then, everybody started greeting each other saying “Namaste” with folded hands: namah + te, meaning “I bow to That (Divinity) inherent in you.
”In Sanskrit the word isnamah + te = namaste which means “I bow to you” - my greetings, salutations or prostration to you. The word ‘namaha’ can also be literally interpreted as "na ma" (not mine). It has a spiritual significance of reducing one's ego in the presence of another.

Why Namaste:
Namaste could be just a casual or formal greeting, a cultural convention or an act of worship. However,there is much more to it than meets the eye. The real meeting between people is the meeting of their minds. When we greet one another with namaste, it means, ‘may our minds meet’, indicated by the folded palms placed before the chest.The bowing down of the head is a gracious form of extending friendship in love, respect and humility.
Spiritual Significance of Namaste:
The reason why we do namaste has a deeper spiritual significance.It recognizes the belief that the life force, the divinity, the Self or the God in me is the same in all. Acknowledging this oneness with the meeting of the palms, we honor the God in the person we meet.
May the Lord help us also to see his divinity in everybody!

Namaste

Namaste

Namaste by firoze shakir photographerno1
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


Dedicated to Dragon Fly with love to her family..

Firoze Shakir Poet

The Shia Angst of Pain and Humanity




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

Family Eating Tadgolas

This Street Seller of Tadgolas Has Gone Through Lot of Pain


229,831 items / 1,928,279 views


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 ..

After a Very Long Gap I Shoot The Hijras Of Bandra Reclamation

They were two begging from the street shops on seeing me one of them hid her face but I dont give up I kept on shooting but I was late for work so I let the moment pass ..

I met after a few days shot them again but paid them generously near Bandra Jain Mandir Road.

If Only I Could Tell You Why We Bleed ..

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

Being Human

God was confused he did not know whether to make me a Hindu Sufi Shia Christian or Jew He mixed all the colors made a color new.. He ad...