Who Will Be The Winner ..Kaun Banega Maha Mantri .On May 16 2014

perfect radiance
is in full bloom
as the bells toll
some places
will be lit up
some in gloom
freedom from
signs of media
prostitution
political whoring
will transitionally
end in doom
till the next
assembly elections
sleeping dead skeletons
from  graves will be exhumed

dance of democracy
media porn.. in another
dark room...

the muslim beggar smiled at me
raising his outstretched hand
said camerewale  bawa
assalamwalekum..

Hope And Hindutva ..Message of Universal Peace Humanity ..

He is a holy person , a teacher like figure , an ascetic but a Grahst Sadhu.. he was staying in the same sector a few tents away
with his wife . son and his daughter in law
and grand children.

We took an instant liking to each other
he considered me a mystic too with my
long robes happy that I was affiliated to
Ajmer Sharif.

He enjoyed calling me to his tent after prayers fascinated with my camera and me
with the congeniality of his face .

He was a very clean man and would get upset when others from the sector
misused or dirtied the common toilet a makeshift one we all shared .

I was living with the Naga Sadhus and still remember the winter chill on the banks of the Ganges ,but I bathed everyday...I only wore black and visited the Naga Babas I had befriended .

Will I forget the Maha Kumbh no never ..
Allahabad the sangam my encounters with great Spiritual leaders of various Akhadas , His Holiness Chandra Swamiji, Khamakya Kapoor one of the most exotic fascinating tantriks I have ever met .

From the Maha Kumbh I still keep in touch with Kapoor Khamakya ..

I have not yet met my Naga Guru , simply because we are connected telepathically ..he will call me for the Nasik Kumbh which I await hopefully karmically..


There are some sad memories of the Maha Kimbh that I have erased from my consciousness , just keeping the god happier ones as moments on my Maha Kumbh set at Flickr.

The World of Saints Holy Men has also been infiltrated by bogus Babas con men , though thankfully the spiritual policing helps
remove them from the midst and save Hope And Hindutva.. from charlatans out
to create mischief and you find them in other faiths too lured by fast bucks easy money.

So sometimes even a camera becomes a storyteller .. poetizes the nuances of light and shade into textures of lilting hope you read as text..

I Was Accidentally Born In Lucknow

a city i love and hate
for what it has become now
enshrouded by political
crass ..sheepishly takes
a bow ..as the nawabs writhe
in their graves ..a statue of
madamji ..says wow,,to its
former glory its pride
prestige who will endow
lucknow ek chota sa shaher
ek bhula bisra gao..ubalte
pani pe machalti hui
ek kagaz ki nau...

in memory of my grand father nawab daroga sab shia poet of pata nala
kankar kua ..
descendant of poet mir anees

Good Morning God

your humble
street warrior
clumsily fighting
fate with a stick
instead of a sword
what was the haste
creating this human
speck of dust caught
in a storm ..oh lord
i flow freely but
am faithfully attached
to your cord ,, order
alignment discord

a pawn on your
celestial chess board

Lab Pe Khwajah Ka Nam ..The Low And Lowliest of Islam

considered untouchables
they come here to be
 touched by the great
 holy saint of Ajmer ..
blind deformed
crippled their so called
humanity on a crutch
he gives even when they
silently stand and stare
as such to hope like a
 drowning dream his
apparition they clutch

the khwajah gives
generously
lives reborn
realigned
re touched

oh great saint
for your ocean
of humility
hospitality
 thank you
ever so much

Its True Not All Beggars Can Be Choosers

on the street
both captive
enchained
to the mysticism
wit wisdom of
the beggar bowl
two malangs
neither young nor
old ,,both walking
on embers of
burning coal
different paths
different destinations
common passion
different goals

The Beggar s Soul Mourns In The Beggar Bowl

a  few coins
to appease
his humility
his cosmic pain
entrenched in
the gutter
of wrath
since life
began
following
 his footprints
restless restrain
the bowl is never
full nor completely
empty loss or gain
in some other form
comes again
held captive
in human bondage
his celestial pain
lifeless dreamless
he wont complain