Ramzan Mubarak Aya Ramzan Mubarak Aya

These are the words that you hear on the streets of Bandra at dawn sung by the Awakeners Muslim mendicants who do selfless service waking up Muslims to start their fast and Sehri.

For 11 years I sincerely documented the season of Piety Charity that we call Ramzan where poetically speaking God comes down on Earth to be with his loved ones.

His lost tribe of beggars and you will find them outside every Mosque during Taravee.
Mostly women and children and somehow I think Ramzan is the Feast of the Poor the homeless fasting and united in piety and prayer.

I have documented Muslim beggars and this lady in the picture for over 11 years too as I mentioned in earlier posts she has a daughter and two sons her husband is physically challenged does cutting of threads of readymade garments.

To supplement the family's income she used to beg below my house on Friday's.

There are many like her and this period of Ramzan gets them free ration clothes etc.

Earlier I shot the Iftar time of the poor.. The hawkers and even beggars I used to break my fast with the beggars of Bhendi Bazar.

Memorable memories.. Ramzan is a beautiful month that inspires love forgiveness and tolerance and Ramzan keeps even the hot headed Muslim anger in check.

Those who are fasting have to bear all this in mind not eating food water is one aspect of Ramzan.. But being respectful responsible honest truthful charitable are some of the virtues of Ramzan.

Some of my Hindu friends to show their solidarity with Muslims fast too for week or two and this is the greatest power of Ramzan joining Hearts and Souls.

Ramzan a Muslim feast adds hope and love to the surroundings I know Hindu friends who offer Iftar items to beggars outside the Mosque.

That is one reason I love Mumbai the spirit of a collective ethos and togetherness.

My perspective as a human and as a photographer has been Hindu Muslim amity one cannot live without the other..

Our politics in Mumbai is not marred or tarnished by hate for any community.

So in a way this is my first Ramzan post I chose this mother and her child as the Ambassador s of Peace and holistic healing.

Ramzan

I Died The Day I Was Born..

posted at Facebook

I too wanted to Raise my Hands to God 
But Alas Both my hands were gone ..
No I will never play gully cricket kabaddi 
all my hopes had gone ..
I was the fading light of a receding dawn 
I was a rose I was a thorn..
On the soul of Humanity 
I was merely a pawn..

I cursed this photographer for shooting me 
Stealing my fragile soul...on the sol of his 
street photography for my dreams I mourn.

I am a Muslim so one good thing I wont be reborn

I killed the Man within him I shamed his camera 
With just one look piercing the poetry of his life 

He stepped back withdrawn ..

He will never forget me I will never forget him..
As life a piece of paper floating in murky waters 
as it goes on
Happy Morning From Bandra Lets Bygones Br Bygone .

I move away from the world of Gambhir Singh I am happy for him Love in the hearts of his brother sisters in Manipur found him..He deserved another chance and God used me as medium of his divine intervention .

Ever since I came back to Facebook I have a love and intense hate with this platform..it is recently that I made my posts public otherwise all my posts were marked friends I did it as to reach out to help a man find his way home ,, I did it for Gambhir Singh of Kumbong Village Imphal Manipur ,

I dont add friends on Facebook when I started off I had 2500 plus friends but there were many that reported my head bleeding photos of my kama matam I am a Shia Muslim so I pruned my friends list and was happy with 1500 friends .

Than Gambhir Singh happened I was shocked by the wave after wave of friend requests from Manipur and of Manipuris from other parts of India and the world I surrendered my soul opened the doors of my private space on Facebook... let everyone in I deleted just two requests from Manipur one of a person whose spirituality was totally against my own Shiasm Sufism and another that was using Asifa as a tool to hurt all HIndus of India .

I am not into politics I have friends cutting across party lines ,,my best friends are In BJP Shivsena MNS Swabhiman ..yes I have very few friends in the Congress and here I will be damned if I keep my shut I voted for a Congress Free Bandra as the laid back leaders did nothing for the poor or the common man in their white Armani attire Gucci shoes they came to hoist our national flag disappeared 

God made sure they disappeared to completely from Bandra ,,,though I have reservations against the silence of the ruling party I have decided to use NOTA in the next elections sadly in this political graveyard full of zombies I see no alternative to individually take on Modiji.

I voted for Advocate Ashish Shelar President of BJP ge is a good man and lives in our building,,,if I need help when I am helping people anywhere in India he takes my call does the needful,,he is a Hindu I am a Muslim but he has always been there for me ,, 

I dont talk politics this post is for those who added me recently I am not a product of the Madrsa I will never wear a skull cap ..I am not the typical Miya I am educated my schooling was Christian based ..Covent education..

I believe in Interfaith my core religiosity is Humanity made in India .

I simply shoot India .. India is my Perfumed garden.

If you feel differently about my views please unfriend block me .

I dont add Pakistani Muslims even if they are Sufis or Shias because my Islam is traditional Indian in its views and my ancestry I do not want to hurt their sentiments as perhaps I am a Hindu too through my cultural inheritance .

My Guru was a human loving Muslim loving Naga Sadhu had the most beautiful relationship with him perhaps I was the only Muslim in his fold he gave me an opportunity to smoothen my rough edges .

I have a Jesuit priest as my spiritual mentor ,,,I have an Aghori Guru he will be waiting for me at the crematorium at Khamakya .

This is me ,,with malice to none I am a beggar poet ,,

And some pictures like this boy I shot at Ajmer 8 years back make me talkative ,, I never saw him again I searched for him..but I wish those rich pompous Muslims that buy huge expensive Goats Camels Dumba could have bought him prosthetics .

I celebrate Bakra Eid but since 10 years I donate our Goat blood mony to pay the fees of children in the slums .

How good or bad Muslim I am ...God is surely aware of that I am ready rto be caned burnt in Hell for my shortcomings ..

I am changing evolving falling getting up and one reason why I felt for Gambhir Singh I was a hardcore alcoholic I robbed destroyed my children's childhood I drank like a fish in a half empty aquarium..I lost love but my Lucknow based hardcore Shia wife held to me though I was a broken brick of the edifice that was my home .

I changed I stopped drinking on the day of Gauri Visarjan years back so a Hindu goddess was also part of my reformation I have neer touched a drop of booze since 20 years or more .

Lsst I about 25 years back I began documenting Sufism tried to spread its sweetness through my pictorial narrative ,

I became a Malang I was appointed as Khalifa of the oldest Sufi order Madarriya Silsila and my Mentor is Syed Masoom Ali Baba Asqan Mafari.

I will be given the Khilaftnama of Qadri Rafaee Silsila by another mentor Nasir Bhai Rafaee.

Years back in Ladakh I helped some Tibetan refugees His Holiness Dalai Lama Sab gifted me his Autobiograpy those days in Ladakh I wore the Lama dress I still wear it today my latest one was presented by Mr Danny Denzongpas family on my birthday .

It is people who made me what I am..I have many flaws I still have sharp edges wild temper but I am trying to control it ..

I will oneday visit Manipur to bless my friend soulmate Gambhir Singh of Kumbomg Village Imphal.

Now in some time I go to play tennis and meet a horse that waits for me ..I dont know if its the carrot or me that he likes but does not matter 

I would die before I sent anyone of you a Fucked Whats Up Good Morning Post ,, my good mornings are pictures words all sacred I only shoot Original Content ,,
God gave me agift I use it to save pople and save myself from my ego the most demonic part of a mans being .

Nobody destroys Man more than his Ego his sanctimonious self esteem..

See You All later 

Old Monk

The Muslim Beggar Grandmother

posted at facebook

I have known her for many years she stays in the roadside slums at Lal Mitti Bandra reclamation .
She used to beg with another child in my area and sometimes outside the Shia Khoja Mosque Bandra Bazar Road.
However I shot her with this new child outside the mosque at 7.30 am while going for tennis I mostly cut through the mosque backlanes
sometimes .I spoke to her this is her new grandson I gave her some money ..I had no time to shoot her video in order to make this street narrative more colloquial ..make you listen to her story and the power of her grandchilds eyes that held me in a vice ..he penetrated the poetry of my restless soul.
And this is my genre Muslim Beggars God forgot ...was it part of his cosmic plot ..here they suffer outside his spiritual mansion they beg whine rot ..at fajr prayers on the dot .
Accidentally this picture I shot on the Soul of Humanity a cancerous incurable blood clot ...with her grandchilds cosmic eye and the third eye of Shiva two entities that fought ...time and fate watched me from yonder said now what ..
Some cake some biscuits for her child from the bakery opposite the mosque I bought .
The power of a grandmother and that mystic tiny tot .

Do Beggar Kids Dream

of going to school
instead of begging
on the streets with
a mother who has
had nothing to eat
humidity dust n heat
her tired feet a ritual
of begging everyday
she must repeat
but come what may
she wont accept defeat
on a friday in the morning
close to where i stay
in my lane mother n
child you will meet

the child is 3 year old now
najma who loves sweets

I Often Wonder Do Beggars Have Dreams Of Becoming Rich Men

He thought I was a mystic
both beggars within a divide
dressed in my malang robes '
my rings barefeet a turban
on my head my true self from
him i tried to hide ..i told him
one day he would be rich i
truthfully lied ..he took me
aside ..he said my humility
please dont deride i am just
a beggar born a beggar on
the broken wings of poverty
astride ..my god is also a king
of beggars my mentor my guide
before he made me a beggar he
danced on my beggarly soul he
disturbingly destroyed my pride
hope cavorting with misery both
by my side ,,a dreamer within my
dreams ..he spoke to me in silence
his tongue tied ..demystified ,,
god is the giver god provides '
i looked at him stupefied ,,
spiritually strong fortified

The Muslim Beggar Girl...On Bakra Eid

held captive to her doomed state
begging for alms on the streets
when she grows a little older her
parents will marry her off to another
crippled deformed beggar her fate
she cant cheat ..with the money the
groom to be will  give her parents
they will pay off their creditors in
the neighborhood of their slums they
will distribute sweets ,,happy days
a burden off their shoulder a liability
they will dispose of satisfaction  time
for the nikah and feast ,,necessity the
mother of invention no more fear of
the young  son of the butcher who was
stalking their daughter that beast,..a
story within a story time for a treat
a beggar girl her lost illusions her lost
dreams catapulting her from one stage
of her life to another both sides defeat
embalming an imaginary moment when
the cosmic eye of the camera and a beggar
child in a hijab accidentally awkwardly meet

If Wishes Were Horses Would Beggars Ride

What is the  mother thinking begging on the streets  on Bakra Eid at Bandra most of my beggar stories are born in Bandra ,, what is her son thinking ..is he thinking I dressed in saffron am mocking them  I certainly dont look like a person from their community and I normally wear black  it was just a last minute decision to wear this obtrusive attire on a Muslim feast day with no allusions or hidden meanings ,, and it was this attire I had kept ready to go shoot the last Shahi Snan I was to leave on 23 Sept but it did not happen I gave myself another chance  24 Sept and than I waited for a miracle too but the person who was going to sponsor my trip forgot all about it ,, I decided to stay back in Mumbai celebrate Eid with my grandkids and shoot the Eid Namaz ,, Eid Al Adha at Bandra Station Road ,,

I dont want to shoot Nasik 12 years hence I dont know with malfunctioning kidneys gall bladder and  unhealthy pancreas whether I will be alive to shoot the Kumbh,,, so I wore the saffron as my winding sheet of my failed pictorial desires ,,my Naga Guru called me but his call did not help at all.

So back to the beggar mother and her grown up son begging helplessly on Bakra Eid ,,and I have shot many of them .. the pathos of their undying failed dreams ,, and they come from distant suburbs to Bandra West ,,why Bandra West beats me ,

I have shot the Azad Maidan Eid Namaz .. I shot it very long time back but it is Bandra Station Eid Namaz that adds beauty to this spiritual calisthenics of Faith ,,I shot a lot of beggars during Eid Ul Fitr as compared to  Eid Al Adha ,, Ramzan is a Month of Piety Charity and much more ,,,

I have shot over 5000 images of Muslim beggars as they touched the inner soul of my camera ,,shot and showcased their struggle survival and their perennial hardtimes ..the ones I shoot are hardly members or adherents of a beggar mafia ,, these are helpless creatures fending for themselves ,, trying to make ends meet with the most shameful humiliating job profession called beggary that keeps alive the temples of diverse faith ,, and the spiritual market that needs beggars as man needs water and air ,,


This world’s existence is one night long. There’s a great lively gathering that night, but some people sleep through it. ~Rumi

Muslim Mother Begs ..Bakra Eid Mubarak

It was her little son I shot first staring at me in my saffron attire barefeet , he was curious he was scared but when I handed him some money , his young mother smiled and I shot her ,,I shot the humility of her beggars life  on our feast day , I shot her lifes failure , was her husband bedridden too,, why was she begging and in the chaos there was no time to ask her this simple power packed question,, I shoot pictures and let pictures talk emote and sensitize my soul.. if she was in my backyard I would have shot her video.. we must know why we have failed the lesser privileged ones of our  community ..

Being a photographer and a beggar poet  sometimes it is the poet in me the beggar too that overpowers the soul of my  street photography .. down the line every street picture is a story , in words if you decode it or in silence if you become one with it ,,

I get along well with two main communities .. the beggars and the transgender hijras that I shot ,, and beggars among them I poeticized their pain as it passionately grasped me in a vice and a hold..

This mother and her child were waiting near the bus stop , the photo journalists were dramatically shooting the posing Eid Hugging kids and I was shooting her and her kid ,, and hugging the pain of their doomed destiny with my own ..

This time I shot less I did not hang around I just cut across the slums I had to meet a beggar suffering from encephalitis last time I had begged  with him..earned him some money . this time he sat there desolate at Bandra Slaughter house compound I gave him some money and hoped that he gets more alms ,,for me Bakra Eid namaz is just the beginning not the end I search for stories and transform them into pictures such is the power of the camera and its cosmic lens that penetrates the soul of human  poetry.

And I skipped the poem here it would rob her of the tribute I was paying her after clandestinely stealthily removing her soul from her body.. I only left her with the spectral light and its disillusionment in her veiled eyes ,,

Alas If Only Her Parents Had Educated Her

On Bakra Eid with her little one
she would not be begging on
the roads pleading give alms
to me in the name Of Allah
a sad picture of failed motherhood
failed womanhood on the soul of
laid back expensive goat slaughtering
Muslim society a message explodes
a few coins they will give her out of
mercy misplaced charity a pitiable ode
she will be there again next year at
Eid ul Fitr ,,bearing her heavy load

Hotshot media photographers eminent photo journalists come to shoot the Eid namaz besides the namaz what else do they really see , myopically they have one track vision all of them as the Namaz and the prayers are about to end fathers uncles relatives get ready to force their nattily dressed kids to hug each other ,,yes with a reason .. their kids will be featured in the main dailies Hindustan Times and other sacrosanct editions .. this is Eid t be showcased to the public ,, this is perhaps the strict dictum of their brain dead photo editors this is a newspaper type stock picture ,,over the years and does the Muslim really want to see this arranged manipulated image ,,a hangover of  the medias limited understanding of Muslims and Islam.


Will they show two beggar kids hugging each other in torn tattered oversize borrowed clothes ..will they understand the pain of a Muslim mother on Eid begging here at Bandra Station , than carrying her child she will visit the Muslim slums nearby for some mutton.. and the Muslims in the slums understand poverty understand the hardship will give her something.. she will be driven away from the buildings of rich Muslims by the security guard where in the compound the rich Muslim is busy getting his 10 goats slaughtered .. he has the responsibility of a large family dont you see..the bearded Mullah brushing away the sweat of his brow another 8 sallas remain ,, the first stroke  of the knife on the animal to be slaughtered ,,,

Allah Ho Akbar ,, Yes God is Great ,, he fills everyones plate

Muslim Beggars don't celebrate Eid they Beg Beg Beg on tired legs Eid Mubarak to all of you on behalf of the Beggars of Bandra

I try a lot to shoot what you all shoot

But accursed is the fate of my camera
languishing like a hungry dog it is beggars
the homeless scavengers searching for food
in the garbage is what my cosmic vision bears
fruit ,, I tried to shoot cloud birds airplanes
flowers chubby kids cute  bees butterflies
still life silently mute ,,but I must refute my
idiomatic passion such tasks failed to
comply or execute ,,soon after i have shot
the bleeding goats Ishmael's sacrifice to
god his only son as tribute i will be shooting
bleeding heads bleeding backs a camera
two daggers in my hands ..my Shia fortitude '
remembering the ultimate sacrifice of Hussain
between good and evil an eternal feud ,.
Sadal Wida Hussaina .Wa Hasrata Hussains
Shame Hakim Laeen Ast ,,, our courage attitude

God Made Me Human You Made Me A Beggar She Said

accusing me my kind the hijab covering her head
within the fiery orbs her eternal pain I read ..cursing
her girls fate born a Muslim she took Allahs name to
earn her bread watching rich fat Muslims buying goats
why did they not slaughter her so like the goat she too
would be dead ,, since immemorial times she has been
sacrificed even after she weds a triple talaq hanging over
married head ..and the mullah wants her too suffer more
instead .. the only women happy in heaven are the 72 nubile
angels waiting for misplaced martyrs  blown up dead .
such were my thoughts heretic for some as they buzzed aloud
in my crazy head ..a picture a story ,,of a child without home
nor the comforts of a bed .. i gave her some money furtively
from the cosmic vision of my camera she hurriedly fled

Najma 3 Year Old Muslim Beggar

I have been documenting Muslim beggars as a storyboard of pain , Muslims those rich wealthy Muslims will be buying expensive goats not one but many and the ostentatious display of wealth is how I see it ,, for charity they distribute exercise books but if they educated a few girl children this lady and her child wont be begging on the streets of Bandra every Friday .

I began shooting Najma the Muslim child beggar much before she could say Allah Ke Nam Pe Do .. she was very tiny and her mother protected her from the rains sun within the folds of her burkha .

Now Najma is 3 year old , she has come a long way , her father cannot provide for them so they beg..and there are two mother and child I have documented in this lane near my house ,both my granddaughters have shot them too ,,one of them has a son.. Nerjis was a toddler herself,,

I will shoot her video but I was in a hurry I gave her some money and these are after thoughts on a blank post ,, I am posting these words at Facebook...and my posts are all marked for friends I dont write for Facebook faceless members ,, but everywhere else my posts are Public,,

And than I wonder all those sanctimonious Muslims who post sweet GIFS of a Happy Jumma ,, do they know there are Muslims that have never felt a Happy Jumma ,, socially or spiritually ,,they sit and beg ..hoping for their life to change , but the chances are very bleak.. only miracles can change their lives and we are the miracle if we help them in whatever way possible .

Earlier I shot Muslim beggars gave them money too but now I talk to a few of them.. I also know Hindu beggars who wear the headscarf and the hijab beg on Fridays and believe me I feel equally sorry for them , and they know I know but I dont mock them , simply because necessity is the mother of invention.. I give them money too.

I could have tweaked this picture made it arty by making it a BW .. but I let it be ,,see the colors of drabness the colors of despair the colors of hope begging on the wayside ,,

Juma Mubarak to you from Najma and her Mother ,,

Wa Zillah Manto Shaho
Wa Izzo Manto Shaho

The Only Thing We Make Effortlessly In India Are Our Indigenous Beggars

I shot her outside Kurla West station she was in a real bad state I gave her some money ,, but all the money she gets in coins or notes does not count for much..a part of me told me sit next to her video shoot her story ,, why was she begging ..at this age what happened to force her to beg..but than I let it go.. I shot 2 or 3 frames ,,there are many like her on the streets of Mumbai thrown out by their own children.. Old lady go beg or dont come home ,, it is sad , and this picture or words is not forced melodrama but the poetry of street life that I prolifically shoot as Muslim Beggars of India .

Most beggars come to Mumbai the city of Hopeful dreams during Ramzan when the Lord too comes down on  earth in the guise of a beggar I doubt if God would ever come down in the guise of a Mullah..

I have shot far too many beggars but it is the Muslim beggar that I shoot and showcase to the big fat rich Muslim moneybags who turn the other way from beggars and now in a week or two when Bakra Eid or Eid Ul Adha begins the rich Muslims will be buying rich goats no bulls this time they will buy rich expensive Allah inscribed Dumbas ,, instead of a single goat some will buy a dozen goats .. will they send a couple of goats the childrens home or to the widows home ,, no ,, they will send the Skins ,, and this is the irony I shoot ,, I once used to go to shoot this spiritual Tamasha at Deonar but I stopped it completely ,, I have a lot of butcher friends and with due respect to their profession and their efforts Bakra Eid is nothing but an ostentatious show of money power among the rich Muslims ,,,

We used to slaughter the goat but last two years we give the money to a children s home and this is our personal act and has nothing to do with Qurbani..

And every year the Hijras come to our building for meat and one of them will call me aside ask for Marziya my  granddaughter who shot this hijra when she was 3 years old.

This is love in its noblest form.. did the hijra get blessed by the little child I know not ..but it is this ethereal power within the cosmic soul of the camera that holds my inner restless angst..

Yes I shoot beggars as a beggar myself my camera is the beggars bowl that begs for beggar pictures  and Fuck I dont sell my pictures beggars or otherwise ,

The Eyes Of The Poor Are Windowpanes

broken doors
of her cosmic fate
her future held in
rusty chains
calm composed
in her penury
she remains
her hijab totally
torn badly stained
for her eid is just
another day filled
with pain no new
clothes for her children
no money to buy meat
vermicelli ..she wont
complain.. she will be
busy standing outside
the mosque begging
hoarsely after the eid
namaz ..tears going
down the drain...
being born a muslim
beggar is worse than
humiliating death
a thought ingrained

“It is a beggar's pride that he is not a thief”

This was shot in Ajmer 2012 and the bulk of my images shot during the Ajmer Urus documented the beggars the hijras and the rafaees and the malangs ,,

Ever since photography was banned in the Dargah premises , I only bought my camera in to shoot the Chatti celebrations of my Host Peerab Fakhru Miya Hujra No 6 . and that is all I shot in the Dargah or the Chatti Celebrations on his terrace .

I would wander the back lanes of Ajmer seeking  out beggars and strangely it was the beggars who sought me out ,, and this old man blind in both eyes tended by his son lying on the road seeking redemption...

And you cannot escape beggars in Ajmer as the Keeper of Ajmer is aptly known as Khwajah Gharib Nawaz one who bestows his goodness godliness on the unfortunate .
Beggars with no place to stay , who sleep on the roads in all seasons and it is worst during the heavy rains , the gutters choked up and the streets till gates of Bulund Darwaz fully flooded .. you have to wade in this mucky dirty water ,,

As I have limited time I have to get back to Mumbai and my work I leave the day after Chatti , sometimes I climb up the mountains to reach Taragadh barefeet or sometimes I go to Pushkar to meet my friends Niru Bullet and Raj Tilak .

There are also a lot of beggars where the hijras stay at Moti Katla , and the hijra goddesses feed them clothe them and are over generous every Hijra household has a langar community meals and the Niyaz distributed to all who come ..and the Niyaz is a tribute to Kwajah Garib Nawaz.. Harzat Moinuddin Chishti..

For those who need change  loose coins to pay the beggars there is the easy method , you buy shells for Rs 100 and a  shell has a denomination you give this to the beggar he later converts it into cash after some money as service charge is collected by the coin changer ,,

And Ajmer Sharif the Holy City never sleeps during the Urus , the smoke of the chillum hits the breeze and enters your nostrils as you move towards  Char Yar or Jalali Chowk ,,In the ancient Char Yar Masjid the  Dam Madar Malangs have their Asthana with Masoom Ali Bawa the head of the Aqsan Mlangs presiding over his devotees .. followers of Zinda Shah Madar , next to him is Rafi Ali Bawa ... this is the place you will find me most of the time ..

This time things are not OK my end and I have a feeling I wont be able to go to Ajmer Sharif ,,and I take things as they come ,,and I have no regrets I have seen shot Ajmer Sharif since 2005 .

And people always have this strange justification among Indians that if a photographer shoots beggars he is making money selling their pictures and I feel sorry for their ignorant mindset .. shooting beggars in my case is a catharsis , it makes me wordily voluble I  can talk on beggars , talk of beggars and end up poeticizing beggars mostly Muslim beggars ..there are people who come to Ajmer become beggars as there is a lot of money , couples beg on the road saying they have been robbed and need money to go back home ,, and again you will find the same couple begging on the way to Taragadh.. on the 4 th day too..


And people give money to beggars , feed them and give money for their medicines give them clothes and Ajmer adds to the compassion and humanizes even hearts made of miserly material.

And I am a beggar poet , I get money too walking barefeet , those who dont know me think I am an ascetic despite the camera round my neck, they kiss my hands rings ask me to pray for them through Khwajah Garib Nawaz and the money I earn as a beggar I give to the less fortunate ..it was never my money ,,,so going to Ajmer is not just a pilgrimage to pray for my friends , it is also a introspection a journey into my self ,,

Miracles happen in Ajmer , every minute every second , a lot of people got what they asked and some got what they  had forgotten to ask.. and the one Mantra at Ajmer is foolproof guaranteed .. Yeh Toh Khwajah Ka Karam Hai.. it is his Bounty and Benevolence ,

The Lucky Ones Celebrate Eid The Unlucky One Beg..

the lucky ones
new clothes
fragrance of
musk attar
the beggars
dirty clothes
watching with
envy invoking
allah a few coins sir
but the lucky ones
miserly moments
do not stir perhaps
after the eid namaz
a few coins they
will give to her
the anomaly of
the untouchables of
muslim society as
i took her picture
her life will never
change held within
a blur nothing
but a fistful of
hope to recover


misplaced charity
a misplaced message
left undiscovered

We Are Muslims

invoking his name
his munificence
his omnipresence
his benevolence
we trust him begging
on the streets dark
precariously grim
a few coins hurriedly
they thrown at our feet
a charitable whim.
will our lives change
chances are slim
endangered hopes
our wings trimmed
if only muslim men
could just be like him

Most Of The Muslim Women Are Forced To Beg By Their Good For Nothing Husbands

I dont think for the Muslim woman begging is a profession of her choice , but I have over the years seen once they start begging than getting them out of the begging syndrome is very difficult ..

I have seen the Muslim woman begging with her children and the cunning husband keeping an eye on her from far and I shot his wife and his children..and because the girl child girl woman is a liability to the overburdened parents they get her married to get rid of her , and she may end up either with an old divorcee or  end up  as a wife of a petty thief , gambler robber , whatever and it could be worse than mere begging..

There are guys who get married and dump the wife in a brothel selling her for a good amount and these are not just  stories but the truth and Muslim society can do nothing about it has too problems of its own the clergy in most cases is busy trying to get hands on properties of the Wakf Board ,, I mean its total chaos and there is no platform for these women to approach , and the greatest curse is the Triple Talaq among the Sunni sect ,,

So shooting beggars is shooting their pain and trying to tell it through a single frame ,,I am not a social activist , photography is a hobby and not my source of income ,, I have begged in Ajmer with the beggars , given what I earned to them and I know the degradation , eating left overs with them , it is sad and demeaning .

Neither am I a story teller but it kills me when a beggar family tells me to find a groom for their comely child , half woman half child giggling at me with her siblings ,, and I am barefeet , a strange beggar in beggar land .

And after the Namaz gets over there is a mad rush to grab the men , women children holding him to get their Eid baksheesh ,, and this lady veiled crying out to Allah to ask his followers to empty their stingy pockets ,, yes most Muslims are stingy but give reluctantly to save their souls during Eid ,,

After The Eid Namaz Ends ..

she stands in a corner
covering her pain in a
hijab eid mubarak from
the beggars of bandra
to the ummah a message
she sends sepia toned
her back all bent her
frail body living in a tent
my poetic praise on
muslim beggars on
the soul of your miya
integrity should not
cause a dent with
malice to none
no evil intent
begging away
eid after eid
ladies and gent
moments of
morbidity
ah how my
life was spent
shooting pain on
a very happy day
my only lament