Tuesday, January 27, 2015

I Shot A Face Wrinkled Wizened On The Surface

etched in pain and remorse
she looked deep into my
eyes paused ..she told
me i was a boat searching
for oars .. million miles
away from shore ,,
bound to dreams of
failure of-course ,,
i was a prisoner
of my surroundings
in a house where
lady luck had
locked all the
doors ,,i will
not be able
to break out
even if i used
my mystical
force ,,

i was the
product of
my passions
my mind
the cosmic
source .

delhi ke shahi taqtwalon ne keh diya ghar ghar islam

delhi ke shahi taqtwalon ne keh
diya ghar ghar islam ..kya joh
sadak par musalman bhik mangte
hain unki zindagi sudarneka kya
kiya intizam..bechare musalman
unke zakhmon par kaun lagaye
ga balm,, apko ko toh mil jati hai
charon waqt ki roti ,,apka kam
tamam ..garib na am ke am
na gutli ke dam ..ab ko sirf
lambi chodne ki adat hai
kya ghar wapsi aur kya
ghar ghar islam..

usne kaha salm wale kum
maine kaha jai shree ram

mere watan ke jhande ko salam

Bhai Chikna Bana Dena ..Main Bhi Bollywood Struggler Hoon

kam ke bad ..jakar film offices main karta hoon fariyad ,,
log mere chehre ko dekhkar dete hain dad..jab hero
ban jaoonga tab jaunga mere gaon Saifai jiski ati hai bahut yad ek din hero banneke bad main bhi banunga koie bade neta ka damad ..

Mumbai Is An Urban Slum ...Every Dreamer It Welcomes

come build tax free
houses on our streets
mumbai teaches you
to beg rob steal to stand
on your two feet ,,
come snatch our
ladies handbags
come molest rape
the kids ..our cops
will look the other
way as you rob the
money van or deal in
 counterfeit mumbai
the worlds no1 city
of crimes ..frauds
scams and cheats
at a drop of a a hat
a riot ,..crime soars
we want to make it
clean and neat by
removing garbage
a political mantra
smiling at defeat
the poor have
nothing to eat

The Homeless In Mumbai Have More Compassion For Their Homeless Pets

for years living
on the pavement
reading the newspaper
dreams wont dent ..
the cat gets his fish
milk..every morning
thanks to this pavement
dwellers kind sentiments
he hopes one day perhaps
his life changes if he could
live under a tent .provided
the government of the rich
people for the rich people
buy the rich people pays
his measly rent ..and he is
not evicted by the municipal
body snatchers ..a thought
with good intent .. he pays
the local goon the money
from his alms ..a pain he
vents .. he has committed
no sin so he need not repent
SOBO the rich mans citadel
in this poor mans life fails
to make a dent ..oh he gets
very unhappy when it rains
the only delirious pain
monsoonal godsent ..

poems are waiting to be shoot provided you can see them ..
visually artistically aesthetically ,,,ladies and gent .. use your mobile phone and hey you Indibloggers use Original Content

dedicated to Deepak Amembal Alok Vats Creofire and the rest of the plants clinging to Indi Vine ..the mouse is greater than a pen.. zenitude and zen.. your cosmic third eye your mobile phones lens ..to be a good blogger you need substance ...some asli common sense .

Kishan Khadgar Diamond Jubilee Bandraite Born 1939

  I was returning home from Bandra east , I had walked a lot , and he was sitting at the grocery shop where i stopped to buy salt for my flower horns I use salt after siphoning ,, and the light shone nicely on his face I took this shot , he has a small tailor shop and has traveled India extensively ..his family has stayed in Bandra for 86 years ,, Bandra bazar road , and pictures are stories ..depends whether you want to picturize a story ..or simply take a snapshot for kicks.

The camera is an intriguing device  and here I must let you into a story within a story..

In 2006 I was invited to a wedding in the suburbs I was dressed the way I am always dressed barefeet I was leashed like a dog to my wifes shadow we reached the venue , the father of the groom was an old time character actor , and he knew me as  a child when we stayed at Wodehouse Road.

The groom was very simply dressed, his wife was in sparkling red , he is a nice kid , I had my Sufii cap , I just asked him would he like to try my stuff and he liked the idea I took pictures with his charming wife , his sister saw this was very upset she removed my shawl my jacket threw it on the ground..
I felt hurt I told my wife lets get the Fuck off from this fucked wedding ... and I told his father about his insulting daughter and we came home.

I had shot several frames of a small Shia girl with blonde hair , and very pretty she was about 3 year old relative from my wifes side ..I downloaded the pictures and put them on a CD thinking I would upload them privately at Flickr .. but somehow I had lot of work  and I misplaced the CD..I felt sad because I wanted to give the little girls pictures to her father .

Now as I am going through my old lot re blogging some pictures with new thoughts poems I came across this CD.. The groom in my jewelry shawl silver stick with his wife looks glamorous ... and  9 years have passed since this episode ..

So the camera is a mystical tool..and there are times I wish I had kept my first Nikon EM bought in Muscat in 1980 but I sold it in the gray market those days with lenses flash etc ..I was broke times were bad ..

And finally bought a Nikon F 50 Camera from Jaikishen Bros and thus began my tryst with other peoples destiny in the early 90s .. I bought the F100 F90 X second hand and finally my first Nikon digital D 70 that I used for many years .

Since 2011 I began shooting with the Canon 60 D and Canon D ..

And now I dont carry my DSLRS  anymore when I go out on work and so shoot with the Motrola G,..

This was a blank post my dear friend Alex W triggered this outburst of old thoughts memories ..yes I believe the camera is a mystical tool but hey , listen you can only shoot what you were destined to shoot nothing more nothing less

Photography is like writing a poem .. you should know when to begin when to stop..

This is in response to Alex

Alex Wasserman 2h
You don't need a fancy camera to make outstanding picture.

I Am Durga I Am Kali I Am Saraswati.. I Am A Girl Child

We don't need no education We don't need no thought control

We don't need no education
We don't need no thought control
No dark sarcasm in the classroom
Teachers leave them kids alone
Hey teacher leave them kids alone
All in all it's just another brick in the wall
All in all you're just another brick in the wall

In Praise Of Lord Shiva .. The Ultimate Peace Giver

RK Laxman .. RIP ,, Long Live The Common Man

an era comes to an end ,,
the common man lost a
good friend on twitter
for one last time he trends
heartfelt best wishes we send
sincere condolence to his family
we lend.. life in silence sans
his humor we will spend ..
but he is there at worli sea face
round the corner round the bend

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Rasipuram Krishnaswamy Laxman[2] (24 October 1921 - 26 January 2015)[3] was an Indian cartoonist, illustrator, and humorist.[4] He is best known for his creation The Common Man, for his daily cartoon strip, "You Said It" in The Times of India, which started in 1951. Laxman was hospitalised with life threatening condition battling which the world-renowned cartoonist died. On Sunday, his condition worsened after which he was put on life support.[5]

Birth and childhood[edit]
R. K. Laxman was born in Mysore. His father was a headmaster and Laxman was the youngest of six sons;[6] an older brother is the famous novelist R. K. Narayan.

Laxman was engrossed by the illustrations in magazines such as The Strand Magazine, Punch, Bystander, Wide World and Tit-Bits, even before he could read.[7] Soon he was drawing on his own, on the floors, walls and doors of his house and doodling caricatures of his teachers at school; praised by a teacher for his drawing of a peepal leaf, he began to think of himself as an artist in the making.[8] Another early influence on Laxman were the cartoons of the world-renowned British cartoonist, Sir David Low (whose signature he misread as "cow" for a long time) that appeared now and then in The Hindu.[9] Laxman notes in his autobiography, The Tunnel of Time:

“I drew objects that caught my eye outside the window of my room – the dry twigs, leaves and lizard-like creatures crawling about, the servant chopping firewood and, of course, and number of crows in various postures on the rooftops of the buildings opposite”
Laxman was the captain of his local "Rough and Tough and Jolly" cricket team and his antics inspired the stories "Dodu the money maker" and "The Regal Cricket Club" written by his brother, Narayan.[11] Laxman's idyllic childhood was shaken for a while when his father suffered a paralytic stroke and died around a year later, but the elders at home bore most of the increased responsibility, while Laxman continued with his schooling.[12]

After high school, Laxman applied to the J. J. School of Art, Bombay hoping to concentrate on his lifelong interests of drawing and painting, but the dean of the school wrote to him that his drawings lacked, "the kind of talent to qualify for enrollment in our institution as a student", and refused admission.[13] He finally graduated with a Bachelor of Arts from the University of Mysore. In the meantime he continued his freelance artistic activities and contributed cartoons to Swarajya and an animated film based on the mythological character, Narada.[14]

Laxman's earliest work was for newspapers and magazines such as Swarajya and Blitz . While still at the Maharaja College of Mysore, he began to illustrate his elder brother R K Narayan's stories in The Hindu, and he drew political cartoons for the local newspapers and for the Swatantra. Laxman also drew cartoons, for the Kannada humour magazine, Koravanji. Incidentally, Koravanji was founded in 1942 by Dr M Shivaram who was an allopath and had a clinic around Majestic area in Bangalore. He started this monthly magazine, dedicating it to hilarious/satirical articles and cartoons. Dr Shivaram himself was an eminent humourist in Kannada. He encouraged Laxman quite a lot. He held a summer job at the Gemini Studios, Madras. His first full-time job was as a political cartoonist for the The Free Press Journal in Mumbai, Bal Thackeray, was his colleague. Laxman later joined The Times of India, beginning a career that has spanned for over fifty years. His "common man" character, featured in his pocket cartoons,is portrayed as a witness to the making of democracy.[15] Anthropologist Ritu G. Khanduri notes, "R. K. Laxman structures his cartoon-news through a plot about corruption and a set of characters. This news is visualized and circulates through the recurring figures of the mantri (Minister), the Common Man and the trope of modernity symbolized by the airplane (2012: 304)."[16]

Other creations[edit]
He also created a popular mascot for the Asian Paints group called Gattu in 1954.[17][18] Laxman has also penned a few novels. His cartoons have appeared in Hindi films such as Mr. & Mrs. '55 and a Tamil film Kamaraj. His creations also include the sketches drawn for the television adaptation of Malgudi Days which was written by his elder brother R K Narayan and directed by Shankar Nag. Laxman also drew caricatures of friends for private purposes.

R K Laxman Chair at Symbiosis International University[edit]
There is a chair named after R. K. Laxman at Symbiosis International University.[19]

Personal life[edit]
Laxman was first married to Bharatanatyam dancer and film actress Kumari Kamala Laxman, who began her film career as a child actress named "Baby Kamala," and graduated into adult roles under the name "Kumari Kamala" ("Miss Kamala"). They were divorced, and Laxman later married a lady whose first name was again Kamala. This was the authoress and children's book writer Kamala Laxman. In a cartoon series named "The star I never met" in film magazine Filmfare he painted a cartoon of Kamala Laxman, with the title "The star I only met!". The couple had no children and divided their time between Mumbai and Pune.

In September 2003, Laxman was affected by a stroke which left him paralysed on his left side. He partly recovered from its effects. On the evening of 20 June 2010, Laxman was admitted to Breach Candy Hospital in Mumbai after being transported by an air ambulance from Pune. His condition was said to be stable.[20]

In October 2012 Laxman celebrated his 91st birthday in Pune. During a private gathering at his residence, Laxman cut the cake and was presented a DVD of a documentary titled The Brainy Crow by his fan Rajvardhan Patil, depicting the life and survival of the favourite bird of the cartoonist. Shiv Sena chief Bal Thackeray, who had a past association with Laxman as a cartoonist, sent birthday greetings to him, family sources said. Scientist Jayant Narlikar and Symbiosis University chancellor S. B. Mujumdar also came to greet him on the occasion.

R K Laxman, died at the age of 93 at Deenanath Mangeshkar Hospital in Pune on 26th January 2015. He was hospitalized on 23rd January for urinary infection and chest-related problems that led to a multi-organ failure. He was put on life support after his condition worsened on 25th January 2015. He had reportedly suffered multiple strokes since 2010.[21][1][22]

Padma Bhushan- Govt. Of India 1971
Padma Vibhushan – Govt. of India, 2005
Ramon Magsaysay Award for Journalism, Literature and Creative Communication Arts – 1984
Lifetime Achievement Award for Journalism – CNN IBN TV18, 29 January 2008
'Pune Pandit' Award (Scholar of Pune Award) by the Art & Music Foundation for excellence in 'Creative Communication' – 2012
Honorary Doctorate awarded to R.K. Laxman from the University of Mysore in 2005


Thirsty Beggar Child And The Empty Glass Of Juice

should i write a poem here
let it lose ..a beggar child
a puppet of the beggar mafia
round his neck a noose ..
to be what they want
him to be he did not
choose ,, sold into slavery
 by a corrupt system..
child abuse
he begs while his parents
play card .. drink booze

writing poetry to awaken the soul
of sleeping monolithic society
its of no use ...

Once Upon A Time There Was An American Lady Who Called Me A Shia Thug

piercing the poetry
of my capricious soul
with a slug perhaps
she was uncomfortable
with my Chameleon like
mug..my cosmic rings
my colorful turban my
barefeet on my shoulders
a woven shawl like rug
her clawed nails into the
flesh of my poetry she dug..
an incident in Baghdad had
a demonic effect on her
fastidious demeanor..
an incident that was frivolous
media created humbug
i called her blog goddess
perhaps she did have feelings
of a sympathetic nature for
shutterbugs ..fondly remembered
through this post with love and hugs

sartorially signed by the shia thug..
sweet lady all is fair in love and war
please dont get bugged ..water
flowing freely from a bleeding jug..

There Is A Friendly Devil In All Of Us

he is friendly
but he could
 be worse
short of
being abusive
curt and terse
he follows me
with a pitchfork
in his hand
he rides a hearse
he is my doctor
he is my nurse
sometimes i
really wonder
if he is the one
who creates
my verse
my pathos
my poetic
my  pangs
my libidinous
 lust ashes to
ashes he
in my ears
i will
your thirst
you mortal
man a speck
of dust

i corrode and rust
in god we trust
the bubble burst