Monday, September 18, 2017

I Port my Vodafone Number to Airtel today

After being a dedicated Vodafone customer for over 10 years today I decided to leave them as they have the worst service record for years they overcharged me .
This evening I had a small query I went to their Bandra Hill Road Kiosk the worst Vodafone centre in the suburbs but it is closest to my house the manager totally curt unhelpful a query that would take only a second he made me take a coupon made me wait for over 25 minutes and when I approached the desk when my number came it took a second yet the manager was rude and at that moment I decided Fuck Vodafone I pay them money and am treated like a piece of shit I walked out from this he'll hole walked to Airtel on the same road and ported my number .
I should have left them years back as they have no respect regard for senior citizens they are short staffed and I could see the plight of other senior citizens new mothers with kids in their cramped up sweaty Hill Road Kiosk that does no have water ..or a ladies loo ..
No place to sit and the security man is as rude as the manager of the kiosk.
I told my wife kids other members of my family to port their numbers to Airtel.

A Poet at the Tennis Court

.Do Tennis ke Ustad beech main manav bandar
dil hai samandar ..kabhi unke ghar ke bahar kabhi unke ghar ke andar..dam a dam mast qalandar your thunder ...what god put together no man can put asunder ..earn through the sweat of your brow dont pillage plunder ...

Walking From Delhi Mehrauli Ma Sahibas Dargah to Ajmer 2017 Chadiyan ..550 km in 13 days .

Walking with the Malangs Qalandaris Rafaees
As a photographer this is a memorable moment of documenting the Sufi monks of India .. there werea lot of Malangs Bawas from Bangladesh .
This is an album of over 10000 images camera and mobile I shot posted at Flickr and 91 videos at You Tube .
This was my tribute to my Malang Head Syed Masoom Ali Baba Asqan Madari and my Murshad Syed Rafik Ali Baba Masoomi
It was not an easy trip there were hardships but I eventually made it I met with an accident at Ajmer gates my left leg had a fracture that the Malangs treated it but being a diabetic I stayed a few days in Ajmer and cut short my trip.
There was death on the journey bawas dying ..there was pain sorrow but it was the great moment of reaching the portals of Khwajah Garib Nawaz that added joy to the journey .
I have been invited to walk with the Qalandaris next year from Bu Shah Qalandar Panipat .
I was invited this year too but I could not make it and joined the Madari group of Syed Mustaqim Baba ,,my Peerbhai .
These are some pictures of the Dhamal...
Most places it was the Hindu temple priests Hindu brethren that offered us shelter meals and sought the blessings of Khwajah Garib Nawaz .
This is the India I Shoot .
This is the India my life my death my grassroots .

The Tennis Player His Mystical Strokes

born in poverty
held captive in
a putrid Kurla slums
the cacophonous
sounds of the cries
of a Hindu crematorium
would burst his eardrums
so this was his earliest
foundation a long journey
this far on the tennis court
He has come ..his mother
on her deathbold told him
whatever you become but
do nor ever forget to be humble to everyone remember
your mother's dreams were born on the mound of Mumbai
slum ..your father eked his living we starved but did not
beg for crumbs honestly
but never be under anyone's thumb ..these memories of my
parents struggle to keep me alive make my soul go numb
among the pedantic pompous
people in life I met I preferred
to show them I was dumb ..

my life's progression in a few lines I have summed .. janey kitne mod ke bad samne ati hai zindagi..,,ek ahat sat main lati hai zindagi..mud ke dekha toh sar jhukaye maut koney main khadi...dekh rahi thi mere kismet ki ghadi ..

The Tennis Stroke of Luck

All my life right from my schooldays at Wodehouse Road I dont recollect playing any sports cricket no football no hockey our school days we flirted with comely girls that was our sports or the games we played .
There was dramatics that I participated with a few friends ..
I loved reading books but no other games .
Not even in college .
Three years back I began walking rigorously as my blood sugar was causing havoc was while taking the rounds I used to watch a few walking mates playing tennis ..but I had no interest .
One day the tennis Coach smiled at me and invited me to the court we got talking we became friends Coach Surendra Pawar had taught tennis to a few Bollywood people and was once connected to Khar Gymkhana ..He casually asked m try out some tennis shots and thus began my love for tennis ..
It was not easy at all because I have a damaged right hand I cant fold my wrist and the racquet would fly out of my hand ,,my left leg was always accident prone so I could hardly move I am 65 ..
Trial and error it took me a lot of time those who had played with me became senior players I still played with the juniors and newbies I still do.
In my life I have never met a person like Mr Surendra Pawar from the day I started playing tennis he vowed not to take a penny from me he taught me free on my birthday he gave me a Head racquet costing Rs 14000 ..I found out the price on the Internet.
His boys instructors went out of their way to help me play simply because I cared for all of them..if my wife makes something special she will see that I take a tiffin for them.
But whatever I do I cannot repay what thy have done for me I thank them for my stamina that helped me in my Sufi walk Chadiyan from Delhi to Ajmer 550 km in 13 days .
My blood sugar was under control my waist was 41.5 inches now it is 37 ..
So I started a Whatsup Group as a tribute to my Coach..he is my Guru and father figure though 10 years younger than me ..His grandson Ayan who lives in Belgium loved me a lot as I spoke with him in French.. he was on holidays in Mumbai with his family.

I made a playlist of my Tennis videos , Coachs birthday instructors weddings birthdays etc ,,,on You Tube.

Even at Flickr I set up a album of my tennis memories under Coach Pawar and his boys Darshan Rohan Mangesh Vish Maneesh Michael Praful Sanket Razak and others ,
Last night sitting up at home I wrote a few poems ..

I play for 45 minutes every morning at MET Grounds ..
If anyone of you would like to play tennis reasonable rates let me know I will connect you with my Coach who is absolutely dedicated by very low profile .

dressed in white an old oak
a tennis floor wet soaked
the Rains glistening emotions
choked ..a moment born of
passionate dedication the
 coach spoke to  a Malang bespoke ..

 On a wet perspiring tennis court ..a dream like a paper boat  afloat Be or not to Be..a tennis player or pretend to be just another  scapegoat..    

: kabhi kabhi dil ko lagti hai Chot ..dat se Dabey hot ..kehti hai Begumsahiba kam karo chodo tennis ghar par lao note..apni hasraton ka gala ghot ..mere hath ki lakeeron par dalmot..subha jakey Lana hai blood sugar report ek taraf zindagi dusri taraf maut.