Sunday, October 6, 2013

I shall use the power of right to reject ,,

this time
or not
for any
of the
those who
took my vote
now with us
our problems
do not connect
filthiness dirty
roads of bandra
bazar a stones
throw from my
poetic pain
as text...
those who
dont deliver
we should
not elect

What Is Shown To Me I Shoot ,,,

a thought
enters my
mind i
dont refute
a young
beggar mother
if god had
given her
a second chance
she would look
more beautiful cute
but caught in the
cosmic net of
her misery
her life is better
than the life
of a prostitute
perched her
childs dreams
will time also
pollute on the
same parallel
line of pain
a hindu beggar
posing as a muslim
he knows i know
he is perhaps
a deaf and mute
the moving bus
of time .. and my
ricksha caught
on crossroads
a traffic signal
pictorial pursuit
i simply aim i shoot
poetizing words
aggravating sorrow
i pay my beggarly
tribute those
who passed
them before me
do they really
care two hoots
even if they
had a camera
this picture
they would
not shoot
barren hope
over swollen
dying fruits
still clinging
to a few strands
of roots ...

The Poor Womans Sorrow And The Rich Mans Car

she is the mother
of the son of the soil..
her back bent
her hands soiled
from one house
to another house
she toils .. a pain
of enduring suffering
recoils ..
now on the other
hand the rich man
gets angry his
temper rises boils
if someone scratches
his expensive car
beautifully kept oiled
the vagaries of life
captured by a lens
poetic pangs turmoil
dreams that fate foils

Bhag Bhaiyya Bhag..Jag Bhaiyya Jag

uttar pradesh
main rajniti
aur bhay
aur bure
waqt ne
laga di ag
vote dene
ke pehle jag
bhai please
use your
get carried
with free
such sops
praja ke
hirday par
na chutne
wale khun
ke dag
your state
is caught
in a mangal
shani confluence
of attacking stars
besure sur aur rag
jag bhaiya jag
durga shakti
ma ki badua
ne dushmanon
ko diya jawab
jag bhaiya jag
jai matadi
jai sheshnag

The Car Supposedly Is More Precious Than Indian Womanhood

A Child With a Child Lost Motherhood

Her Husband Is Dead She Said

The Hell Hole Of Bandra Bazar.. And The Missing Municipal Representative Of Our Area

You will find all the drunks drug addicts here at bandra bazar

I Meet Wazir My Friend At Nandi Gully Bandra ,,,He Offers To Buy Me A Pair Of Slippers..

He does not know I walk barefeet ,,,we once worked together at a tyrants shop in Bandra

Mansoor Bhai Ne Chai Pe Bulaya Hai....

shayad meri shadi ka khayal dil me aaya hai
isiliye mansoor bhai ne tumhe chay pe bulaya hai

Pratik Koli And I Sit At The Chai Shop At Grant Road After The Accident

Mumbai Is For The Super Rich And The Super Poor

The Street Barbers Banganga

I Unlearnt Photography Shooting Street Barbers

Ear Hair Shaving

The Camera Shoots A Picture We Create It

Street Photography Is Shooting Dreams

Bal Bal Bache..

Without Barbers ...We Would Be Unrecognizable

Hajamat ..

I shoot barbers religious tonsure and barberism..

An Ode To The Indian Armpit

a poetic
thought to
wit ..the
barber shaves
it .. while the
gentleman sits
the indian
armpit a classic
piece of art
every bit a hit
it is only when '
it gets angry
in a crowded
local train
it lets off
flit ,,,to
local suburban twits
all of Arabia can
never compare
to the aromatic
fragrance to
its credit
a power
india made
it emits
tried to copy
the patent
of the indian
armpit what
they invented
was a disaster
even non state
actors come
to steal this
power of the
indian armpit
posing as