I Decided To Use My Camera To Read The Street Poetry Of Life

I Decided To Move Away From This Genre Of Photography

Welcome To Swach Bharat ,, Removing Corruption Poverty Rape Is On Hold

if cops rape girl child
in uttar pradesh
life out of control
a politicians wifes bag
snatched by bikers
unafraid of law order
20 15 unfolds
murderers conmen
more active bold
the common man
left out helpess
in the cold
dreams of acche
din have to be sold
investing money
but where is the gold
god save india from
hits to its body mind
soul..brainwashed
by political rhetoric
the poor man dying
caught between
the devil and the deep
sea .. children before
their time aged and old
lying in the archives of
time and space stories
hidden untold ,,,,

a new india a new order
behold ,,,,

Documenting The Rifai Silsila With Late Barsati Bawa

Barsati Bawa was my first rafaee friend those days he had taken a vow of silence ,,he used to speak in sign language it was to last for 11 years but he was going through serious illness , chest ailments and had to break his vow.. a robust rafaee he began to lose weight and was almost skin and bones in the last days .

He was the only one who supported me from rogue rafaees who did no like me shooting their order .. Barsati Bawa was a Murshad for some time but sadly he died suddenly and left a void behind.

He would ask a photographer that took memory shots and blew them up and gave it to them for a nominal amount,,to take our pictures too , making sure of giving me a copy too.. he did not want to impose on me for copies from my camera such was his self respect and humility .

He was one Rafaee I remember fondly and was one of the greatest exponent of body piercing art in his heydays.

This was shot at Haji Malang a Holy Shrine up in the mountains.

Dushmane Shabbir a,s Tery Peer Pe Lanat

shabbir ka dushman hai dushman khuda ka 

Jesus And The Malang

silence
that is
treated
obnoxiously
by the tongue
housed in a
human body
that came
saw and clung
death morbidity
breeding on dung
but hope keeps
it young ..scattered
dreams far flung

i am the life
the resurrection
on a cross he was hung
head bowed hymns
they sung,, joy bursting
out of the lungs ,

The Iconic Bandra Tree

held by its girth
clumsily .as the
world changes
sadly it sees
hawkers vendors
food stalls serving
steaming hot vadas
samosas pav bhaji
the old ambiance
as it sheds tears on
the death of new talkies
death of east indian ethos
gaothan those old lost
gullies ..yes bandra has
lost its charm its crass
commercialism big
bucks all money ..its
rusty old roots weeping
as time hits back its belly
attacking it malevolently

dedicated to my mentor
fr lawrie preacher of hope
humanity ,,the first one
to encourage me into
the world of street photography