The Death Of The Bullock Cart Race

The Death Of The Bullock Cart Race, originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1.

Imprints on the Sands of Time

Imprints on the Sands of Time, originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1.

If you see this picture carefully and try to interpret it as a poet and in my lexicon a poet crystallizes human thought in a few words ..a poet is a person who summarizes the serenity of the human soul..you will understand the barrenness the wastelands of human misery on the sands of time ..
And in a way this picture and the few that follow speak the colloquial language of pain..so why did I shoot this picture of a washed away garment , now resting on a graveyard of a distant beach, a garment that was once a layer of a man or woman a garment that caressed the anatomy of the person who has disappeared into timeless oblivion....

Honestly I was bored I was sad I was unable to shoot what I had come to shoot , but I was carrying back something from my molehill of despair I shot 107 pictures in this series Murud Janjira trip 2010 housed at Flickr.

There are a lot of things I dont shoot I shot .
I hate sunsets I shot it on the Mandwa jetty , I shoot at random , I shoot randomness I shot boredom as an idyllic escapade and poetized it on your soul too.

My friend journo Kiran Batham who is a Murud local was at Mahad and asked me to hang around till he returned but I did not wait for him..2 hours was a long wait and it would have killed me , suffocated me completely.

I needed good company and there was none around..I wanted to release my tantric kundalini unleash it on another person , but there was no one around just me the sea and sounds of silence waves making lethargic love to the sand on the beach, moistening glistening foaming in between..


I am not a crowded person I am a loner I am a recluse I write with a camera stories that need no words even my pictures are not dependent of words..I keep them blank and perhaps when I see them in a year or two will embed some frugal text..

What is important is holding a woman's hand on the beach and walking in silence this is sheer poetry for me , two palms making love , and only the soul serenading the surroundings knows the symbolism of this kind of romance..

A Poets Paradise

A Poets Paradise, originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1.

My Shadow Remains Unchanged

My Shadow Remains Unchanged, originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1.

after almost
one year
on the sands of time
i shot my shadow
through my souls
window pane
my shadow
remains
unchanged
unchained
although
i have deleted
her from
my fucked
consciousness
on the soul of misery
we stand estranged
my chaotic karma with her
devious dharma
i have certainlty not
exchanged

i dedicate this to another dear friend
kaushik dutta ... yes dude

Shitting on The Rocks

Shitting on The Rocks, originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1.

shadows within my head
no poetic pauses or mental blocks
i was face to face with my destiny
i was face to face with taunting nature
shitting on the rocks
wave after wave lashed my soul
mocking my mortality
my vulnerability
my mind landlocked
i silently
surrounded
by serendipity
wetness
moistness
serenity
took knock after knock
what i took for granted
from my soul unlocked
a blob in the sea of despair
with the creator of my
imagination
i talked
relieving
a call of
my physicality
of pain
a milestone
i clocked
from one state
of nothingness
into another
state of mindlessness
i spacewalked


this poem was inspired by a comment of Marcel Duvoix.. my facebook friend and a better cosmic poet than me ..

The Cosmic Poetry of Pain

The Cosmic Poetry of Pain, originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1.

life is not a bed of roses
to the soul of her silence she said
spreading her legs her sorrow
seeping as tears on his bed
the bedsheets languorous
bleeding red she was entwined
bodily in another mans head
the cosmic chemistry
of a love making
of convenience
of a listless love
that was stone dead
both in pain but
to transient time wed
she was behind
sometimes on top
sometimes below
neither here nor there
not moving ahead
in her mouth
his longings
his belongings
she held
a poetic pause
he misread
he followed
her soul
into a cavernous
darkness
of her eternity
his masthead
she led
tumescent
blood red
she wore a veil
of metaphoric
mysticism
the power
within him
could not shred

Murud Janjira Through The Eyes of a Cosmic Poet

Murud Janjira Through The Eyes of a Cosmic Poet, originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1.

My wife and I came here zillion years back when our marriage was on the rocks literally I was only a whisker away from getting married to an American woman.


Wife and I had come to reconcile our fate as such we are still happily married but we have not found any more hazardous excuse to come to Murud Janjira again , I was alone on this desolate beach, on Gudi Padwa day , the bullock cart race that I had come to shoot is once more banned from this coastal belt completely its matter in court and nobody messes with the ruling of the court.


For the first time I did not know what to do, I shot boredom , as pictures , my shadows stuff lying on the beach, boredom too can be a subject for photography..

I have some great memories of Murud Janjira besides the visit here with my wife..

On of my trips here I had come with another good photographer and teacher Anil Bhartiya while we were walking on the beach I got the runs I needed to rush to the toilet but it was too far away so I gave my camera to Anil Bhartiya and went straight into the sea , pulled down my pants and was totally washed by foam and a very spiritual bliss..it was the most beautiful moment of my life watching the dancing waves as they mocked my mortality and my vulnerability ..I was merely a blob in the ocean..as a poet of pain I saw visions I saw my half baked dreams come alive..I had never done this before on a beach.
Though I have done it on my treks to Ladakh and Doodh Sagar.

So however nauseating disgusting you might find shitting asses on the beach , try it out once ,.Randy my dearest friend in Montreal is bursting at the seams..and Marcel Duvoix has put a hanky on his nose..

I was inspired by a erotic poem here at Murud Janjira this was my genre too I had put it in the back drawer of my head not to hurt the pompously poetic and the sacrilegious-like spiritual..