Monday, October 31, 2016

Happy New Year I Have Finally Deactivated My Facebook Account

I have been blocked for 24 hours without a reason I dont post porn I dont intimidate people I follow Facebook rules and conditions ,,I promote I have decided to move away if you follow such rules of blocking I do not wish to be part of Facebook family .. Thanks a lot .. God bless you all with good common sense .

Photo Shoot With Guru Shreekanth Malushte Rani Bagh 2008

Sunday, October 23, 2016

RIP Shiraz Merchant Of Eden Hall Worli Ex Dancing Silks Oberoi

I just got a message from a dear friend Suren Gurbaxani that Shiraz Merchant passed away prayer meeting at his house this evening..
Shiraz worked for Mrs Parmeshwar Godrej at Dancing Silks while I worked at Sheraton Treasures Oberoi ..our shops faced each other and we had some great times those early rocking 70s ..
Suren is very close to Shirazs brother Salim.
I had shot this image during Moharam at Kaisar Bagh,.
Shiraz was a great lover of Imam Hussain..
He was a diabetic and was not keeping well I am told ,,
I will surely miss him ..he was a beautiful human soul..
He could not harm a fly .


The New Lady Waits For a Loved One At The Antique Store .

Kept on the dirty sooty floor
Her eyes search for her lover
Ever more passionately she
Lusts for that moment her
Eyes are sore ..naked she feels
Like a who're luckily the rain s
Are gone she watches the owner
As he sits at the shop door. .
Come buy this beautiful statue
To a beggar poet he implores
She locks her eyes cosmically
Pathos touches her core ..
The Antique owners assistant
Sleeping on a rocking chair snores
Life caught between less and more
Patriotism let's out a cry a roar
She has been extorted by a buyer
For a princely sum of 5 core
Nationalism rust and ore ..
Corroded by corrupt politics
In another store ...

Saturday, October 22, 2016

My best friend Benn Bell

In life besides our family we need good friends to add to the poetry of life and prolong our journey with good times .
We have so many friends I too have many friends but not really I am a loner and the camera gives me company ...earlier it was both Nerjis Marziya and my camera .
There are friends we have never met physically ..may not even meet in this lifetime but they add fodder to our minds ..and make our life complete such is my friendship with Benn Bell ..we met in 2005 at Buzznet I was new to the net but I had a repository of shock and awe pictures Shia rituals Sufi body piercing rituals I was a curiosity and I met Benn when he posted an article on Om Mani Padme Hoon ..we became good friends and everytime my urban brown over inflated ass got kicked around by bigots and racists or white supremacists it was Benn who charged in like a bull to defend me ..and I was hot tempered volatile impulsive abusive temperamental he helped me regain my sanity and my sobriety I was not good at writing but his love for literature helped me a lot ...
He understood my photography my dark morbid Dickensian Indian characters Micawber Aunty Pegotty Uriah Heep Fatboy ..
Our friendship has lasted the test of time I moved from Buzznet as Photographer no 1 Commentator no 1 to Flickr in 2007 we were called Buzznet refugees Benn joined in others too Friar Tuck Xiris Bernie AguirreYorrik Ayu Sri Mahayani to name a few and we are still connected .
We had great times at Flickr we lost two good friends Fred M. Miller and Jeff Lamb and we move on towards a cyber world of virtual peace .
Religion our caste creed does not matter we hold on and I would be a ship wreck without a great friend like Benn we are on Twitter too and binding us here on Facebook is another friend the ingenious slightly crazy Anthony Posey..crazy as in inventive .
Sometimes Anthony reads my Jesus poem at his Church and Posey and I could never get over Mary Magdalene..
We met on Flickr because of her humility and her love ..a love that is cosmic and poetic .
Do you guys have a friend like Benn I don't know ..when I have had too much Facebook I deactivate my account but it is Benn Posey that make me dither my decision ..
I need a break away from likes pokes and tags ..
I want to get back to my world within the fleshy soul of my self.
I did try to get back to Buzznet as Shia Thug No 1 that is what I was called by a incisive American lady the cause of my becoming a journaler but I could not find anything I had no place in a world of chemical romance .
Fuck I had lost it ..

My World of Stolen Dreams Bandra And Beyond

Tuesday, October 18, 2016

I could do without Art but not without Original Content .

I must tell you in humility I don't search for pictures or elements that will bring forth a picture seek me out ..cosmically .
I still believe the camera has one agenda it is too steal souls ..
I saw this guy when I take a turn from my house I walked passed ..and than came back I did small chat and while he was wondering I took two shots on my mobile and he is a new entrant to the help force a migrant working for the Bandra Shylock slumdog caterers.
They are paid poor wages but they get to stay in a dormitory type tenement they get free good.
I did not shoot his picture I entered his migrant soul I tried to change places with him after all my dad had come from Lucknow as a migrant lived in the swampy slums of Kurla adjoining a Hindu crematorium with his 15 year old wife and a child one year old me .
My dad struggled he had a lot of flaws but he was a smooth talker from Kurla he got a house on rent with the family of Nawab Kashmiri at Wodehouse road we stayed till the early 70s than he took us to Neelam Breach candy ..and finally back to Colaba Strand cinema .
My father mother have gone but they left us provided for ..and I squeezed the story of my dad a migrant ..why the fuck did he leave adab tehzeeb and Lucknow ..maybe he had foresight and whatever step he took as a runaway 15 year old it paid off Mohamed Shakir became Shakir Master .
Perhaps I search for my father when I shoot migrants ..and I must reiterate I hate Lucknow ..for me it is a prison cell ..
I cannot live in any city besides Mumbai and my parents are now part of Mumbai lying side by side at Rehmatabad Shia cemetery .
Earlier I visited their graves but not anymore I get morose and morbid ..I have a love and hate relationship with cemeteries ..I prefer the peace serenity of sea side Christian cemeteries .
And I have almost threatened my wife and children that I will come to haunt then if they bury me in a Shia cemetery .
I have requested them to give the remains my body parts to medicine so my eyes could live replacing the emptiness of a beggars dark sockets my heart my liver my spleen ..everything ..
I don't want a grave ..I don't want a corner stone begging again for a fatiah and I don't want to fuck 72 virgins ..not anymore .
And as I write this I am wondering whether I should go to play or not play tennis ..
I have been away from the tennis court for a very long time .
I think I will go ..move my lazy limpid ass..and I hate garbage too that I am forcefully made to shoot by the lord of the flies a part of him lives on the garbage dump of my soul.
Happy Morning from Bandra ..

Lalbagh Chya Raja Auction Day

Lalbaugcha Rajacha Vijay Aso

Lalbaugcha Rajacha Vijay Aso

Memories Of Mumbai Pride

Durga Puja Lokhandwala

Monday, October 17, 2016

Charminar Hyderabad

Moharam in Hyderabad 2016


My Kama Matam Ashura Hyderabad 2016

abbas ay shere nayastane hyder
deti thi sada zainab rokar
abbas ay shere....

kya isi din ke liye maangi thi baba ne dua
aake pardes may hojaoge tum humse juda
sotay ho chain se darya ke kanaare bhaiya
kya sunayi nahi deti tumhay halmin ki sada
abbas tanha hai khade ran may sarwar
abbas ay shere....

ay mere shere jawan ay mere bhai ho kahan
shaakh hai dil pe mere teri judaai ho kahan
dayr se deti hoo bhaiya mai duhaai ho kahan
lut-ti hai fatema zehra ki kamayi ho kahan
abbas khanajr hai halqe sarwar par
abbas ay shere....

kya isi din ke liye saath behan thi aayi
aagayi neend jo darya ki tarayi paayi
phir palat kar hame soorat bhi nahi dikhlayi
aagaya ran se alam tum nahi aayi bhai
abbas phat-ta hai mera sadme se jigar
abbas ay shere....

girke ghoray se sada baap ko akbar ne jo di
dibare fatema zehra ki ajab haalat thi
haath malte thay kabhi ghaat ko taktay thay kabhi
thaam kar tooti kamar kehti thay farzande nabi
abbas laaun kaise laashe akbar
abbas ay shere....

haal shabbir ka ab to nahi dekha jaata
hai kamar kham nahi aankhon se soojhayi deta
ye zeefi ye jawan laal ka sadma bhaiya
thaam lo badke zara haath tumhi bhai ka
abbas khaate hai thokar par thokar
abbas ay shere....

bhai ko bhool gaye dhyaan na behno ka raha
yaad aaya na koi paayi jo darya ki hawa
haye kis dil se kiya tum ne gawara bhaiya
har tamache pe sakina ne tumhay yaad kiya
abbas jab cheene gaye kano se gohar
abbas ay shere....

hai qayamat ka saman loot hai har simt machi
koi pursa nahi haalat ajab bachon ki
taaziyane koi khaata hai tamache koi
aag daaman may hai masoom sakina ke lagi
abbas bhaiya utho lo jald khabar
abbas ay shere....

chor kar dashte musibat may behan ko bhai
tumne acha hi kiya door basayi basti
dekh sakte thay kahan tum to haye halat meri
balwaye aam may bhaiya mai khule sar hoo khari
abbas aada le gaye chaadar
abbas ay shere....

azmato izzate saadat bhula di bhai
aag qaimo may layeeno ne lagadi bhai
masnade ahmade mursal bhi jaladi bhai
taaziyano se hai abid ko saza di bhai
abbas ghash may hai pada mera dilbar
abbas ay shere....


Wednesday, October 5, 2016

Scanned Memories of a Beggar Poet

Scanned Memories of a Beggar Poet

No more waves no more lies

As I pay my homage to the Lord of the Flies the civic election draws near
No more Modi wave to take the common
Man by surprise no more promises of
15 lakhs no more sweet coated lies
The common man has become worldly
Wise..down the road the beggar child cries ..
A child is born another child dies
Pain and sorrow cloaked in sinister
Disguise ..on the cheek of the girl child
A tear drop dries ..birth and death and sacrifice ..

You come you die pay a price

The pain pathos of my cosmic
Camera eye ...

Like a catcher in the rye

Sweet Memories of a Beggar Poet

Monday, October 3, 2016

Religious Tonsure Barbers Banganga Pitru Paksha 3

Death is another journey into the unknown ..

You leave behind your flesh and your bones ...the spirit let's out a moan ..all alone all alone leaving behind the loved ones that you had jointly borne ..on his grave they sit and mourn ..a bed of mud earth silence sworn ..a white sheet of purity is what he has worn ..
Abbas Qasim Qazilbash ..
RIP and death muted tones .
My son Asif Shakir sent me the picture of my father in laws grave I could not go to Lucknow I am committed to some time bound work ..

My Humble Father in Law Abbas Bhai RIP

Mr Abbas Qasim Qazalbash passed away in the morning at Lucknow .His father was Dr Matin Qazilbash of Banjari Tola Lucknow.
His forefathers were of Iranian descent and his wife Wassim s family were from Siwan Bihar settled at Kashmiri Mohalla Lucknow ..her father was known as Zakir Salwati and Bul Bul.
That Abbas bhai gave me the hand of his eldest daughter to me means a lot my salary was just Rs 750.
Later it hit him hard that I was an alcoholic and drug user but he prayed for me ..and I finally did give up both booze and hash .
He has always treated me like his son.. he was undergoing treatment for terminal tuberculosis.
My son Asif is leaving for the the noon flight.
Abbas bhai leaves behind his doting wife Wassim his son Arif and daughters Afshan Arjuman and Huma and extended famines grandchildren.

I should have not fallen in love with a frame

she disappeared with her picture
it was all a was me to blame
the wild tigress in her i could not tame
my lonely heart  brutalized and maimed
the love of the candle with the flame
save hollow words i have no claim
cupids arrow missed its aim what
a shame..a wretched metaphoric
silence my  notoriety to fame..

Sunday, October 2, 2016

Love At First Sight

on the banks of the banganga
she sought me out the malang
paying homage to hope hindutva
no doubt kissing my rings with
her snout she touched me deep
within without good thoughts came in
bad thoughts out poetry of my life
clinging to a picture word of mouth

rosh hashanah greetings
to my dear friend alex w
 humble devout

Tennis Under Coach Surendra Pawar Jeff From Jamaica

Jai Ma Durge Dharavi.. Mother Goddess Durga Navratri

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