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Showing posts from February 17, 2015

These Two Lovers Were On Strike On Valentines Day

both their girlfriends had run away..
with their best friends to Marve
while both the lovers protested
outside their homes a thought of
pain they wished to convey .
that love is a fucked illusion
falling in love never pays
eyes locked into a dark
future they gaze ..moments
old memories solemnly
they wish to erase ..dreams
that they had chased ,, gifts
to these unfaithful girls with
their hard earned money
they had purchased ..
a love total waste ,,,
hollow words uttered
love lost misplaced
according to reliable
sources the two girls
are still untraced

their phones out of reach..
loves after taste ...time watches
them poker-faced ,,,a love
their best friends replaced
deleted doomed defaced

Lord Shiva #Mahashivratri

a life giving force
a running river
into your soul
he flows
your fears
your anguish
he completely
where there
was a parched soil
now a new hope grows
holding you
by his hand
he is very close
nanga parbat
with his feet he froze
the only power
no other power
can oppose

Dedicated to my Naga Sadhu Guru
Shri Vijay Giri Maharaj of Juna Akhada..

Madrsa E Nazmiya ,, Shia Madrsa Lucknow

Behind Nakhas a cacophonic noisy street of Lucknow, in one of the sleepy bylanes lies the famous Shia Madarsa, a seminary for grooming Shia lads into Maulanas.
I shot this series a few years back on negatives , now after scanning them I bring them to life on my Flickr photostream in a set called Scanned Memories.

The Shia Madarsa is a fount of learning and no place for hate , here it is Koranic study and nothing else..
The Shia youth come various hick towns of India, and from major metropolitan cities too.

They all make a beeline for my father in law Abbas Qasim Qazilbash's shop, that stocks CD's of matam majlis and nohas.Its called Diamond Cassettes next to Shia Girls Collge..
My brother in law Mohomed Arif assists his father in this business .

The Sleep of the Rag Pickers of Bandra Reclamation

This was shot at 5 .35 am the light is not good and the mobile phone just records a thought without getting caught in the loopholes of good or bad photography .

This morning after I had shot this picture I saw a story in the newspapers with the Minister and Mr Kirit Somiaya and the Kanjur Marg dumping grounds .. and I thought about the ragpicker who mostly are drug addicts , majority of them doing  yeomen service that lazy apathetic Mumbai Municipality does not do even after being paid for it by the taxpayers money.
And did the Minister and Mr Kirit Somaiya talk about rehabilitating the ragpickers of Mumbai , trying to change their life making them more professional ..I hardly think so it was about dumping of garbage in Mr Kirit Somaiyas constituency and not about the miserable life of ragpickers .

And I feel sorry some of us who are amateur photographers , wannabe writers ,have ample time for Facebook Twitter but no time for serious Citizen Journalism.. and big pompous money making …

Congress Mukt Bharat..

he gave a clarion call
which ultimately came true
congress mukt bharat
congress free india
15 years misrule ..
dividing the muslims
the hindus ..and a
PM who silently saw
it through the 84 riots
93 riots bomb blasts
disasters scam tainted
ministers criminals who
destroyed the soul of
mother india money
misused ..the public
taken for a ride .to
listen to them their
problems they
refused price hike
that affected all of us
me and you ..arrogant
motor mouth congress
spokesmen a motley
crew ..and in delhi
a huge tree fell with
such intensity
decimating lovely
dreams over their
heads the public flew
ak 67 wrote their
final epitaph.. here
rests the remains of
congress a zero ..
factor to imbue
reminding them that
power corrupts
absolute power
corrupts absolutely
how they lost they
still have no clue
arrogant even in
defeat they never
gave the delhi public
its due ..they got
badly screwed

The Slave Driven North Indian Migrant ,, Of Bandra

I left my house at 5.29 am for my walk and I saw this old man cleaning flour using a sieve to remove pebbles or dust particles a painful job and I spoke to him , he was cleaning this flour sack from 3.30 am..and it was needed urgently ,, I knew the rest of the story the Slumdog caterers of Bandra usually buy cheap stuff and palm it off in their highly profitable food orders .. even a few well known restaurants in Bandra source their food chapattis tanduri stuff from them .

And this old man does odd jobs for them..peeling cutting onions garlic , cleaning rice etc.

And the guys who use his services are miserly stingy North Indians all Muslims ,, hardly will you find the Hindu in this line of outdoor catering and everyone of them has prospered here in Bandra , they have bought shops homes one of them has a shop given on rent at Pali Road.

And during the wedding season it is a roaring business , and they are highly competitive as compared to other well to do wedding caterers ..And how di…

Bandra Bazar Road has lost its political will

most neglected gaothan
once a fishing village ,..
now filth over spills .
heritage old charm
more beautiful than
pali village or pali hill
but sadly its ancient
bungalows  pristine
surroundings by
politician builder
nexus was killed
repair permission
channel structures
municipal connivance
eyesores came up
houses with ugly
metal grill uncle
playing saxophone
trying to retrieve
old memories
a gaothan that now
sits on a dunghill
the east indian
sheds tears his
precious vote
first it was the
Congress ,..
now enter
the BJP
hope in
for progress
bandra bazar road
is terminally ill
a placebo that is
neither sweet or
bitter pill .. going
going gone
a task uphill

This Is Bandra Bazar Road Neglected By Local Representatives And Bandra Municipality

The Beggar Boy Waits His Turn

he waits for good days to return
he wonders why he is forced to
beg what bad karmic deed had
he done but being a muslim there
is no karma is what he learnt ,,
muslims too are born untouchables
beggars are not society's concern
muslim laid back society that spends
on sacrificial goats ,,taciturn ..
he will live as a beggar die as a
beggar ..for now his case has been
adjourned ..he dreams of goodness
he dreams of happiness he dreams
of playing cricket but by his cosmic
fate he has been spurned ..begging
in the hot blazing sun a few coins
he earns ,, for some rest under the
shade he yearns ,,,but the beggar
mafia who owns his body his soul
watches him secretly if he gets
lazy or stubborn.a flaming iron rod
his kind they know how to govern..

Man Is An Island Of Despondency And Despair

drunk out of his wits
clutching the last
vestige of his dreams
lying on the road
life death he hardly
cares he drank away
his monthly salary
when he wakes up
he will curse swear
beat up his wife
beat up his kids
his wifes clothes
he will tear curse
her for bringing
 bad luck he will pull
her hair more anger
as she pleads he will
bang her head on
the chair ..such is
life of a drunkard
with you i share
i once walked the
same path exorcised
the demon who held
me bound in chains
to my  nightmare
broke the manacles
that had me ensnared
without my families love
support i too would be
lying on the road a
drunkard but god
heard my wifes prayer
a new path a new dawn
for me he prepared
a broken fence of
blood sweat tears
he repaired ,,