Sunday, April 22, 2012

Namaste To My Friends On Google+

to everyone of you who has added the barefeet beggar to his circle

post dedicated to Jack C Crawford


sent by a 90 year old internetter my photoguru..



NAMASTE
Once upon a time, there was an ashram in the Himalayas where a great sage and his disciples lived. They all respected their Guru not only for his knowledge, but also for his love and kindness towards all. Because of his kind nature he often accepted disciples who were spiritually immature. This resulted in silly misunderstandings and quarrels among some of his disciples breaking the peace and tranquility of the hermitage.
One day the Guru was very disturbed to see their immature behavior even after his repeated advice. It saddened his good heart to see his disciples turning into slaves of jealousy and anger. His compassion did not let him throw anyone out of his hermitage. Instead, he sincerely prayed to God to give him a solution. He fasted for many days, and spent the days by himself in meditation and prayer.
After some days of fasting and intense prayers, he had a vision of the Lord. In the vision, God asked him why he was sad. He explained everything and requested Him to come to the ashram and free their minds of jealousy, anger and desire for power. To his surprise, the Lord immediately agreed and told him that He would come to the ashram on one condition: He would come in disguise as one of the disciples and nobody would know who was God in disguise. The Guru announced to his disciples about his vision and Bhagavan’s kind decision to come as one of his disciples.
The disciples were very happy when they heard about Bhagavan’s plan to come and live with them in disguise. But they did not know who was Bhagavan and everybody was very gentle and considerate to each other thinking that the other disciple might be Bhagavan Himself in disguise. When they lived like that for a few months, peace and tranquility filled their hearts as well as the hermitage.
In their pure minds, they felt the Lord’s blissfulpresence and they started treating each other and thinking of each other as none other than Bhagavan Himself in disguise! The whole ashram was reverberating with blissful positive vibrations emanating from everyone! This great sage and his disciples told their experience to others and inspired them also to respect each other and to pranam to the divinity in every one.Since then, everybody started greeting each other saying “Namaste” with folded hands: namah + te, meaning “I bow to That (Divinity) inherent in you.
”In Sanskrit the word isnamah + te = namaste which means “I bow to you” - my greetings, salutations or prostration to you. The word ‘namaha’ can also be literally interpreted as "na ma" (not mine). It has a spiritual significance of reducing one's ego in the presence of another.

Why Namaste:
Namaste could be just a casual or formal greeting, a cultural convention or an act of worship. However,there is much more to it than meets the eye. The real meeting between people is the meeting of their minds. When we greet one another with namaste, it means, ‘may our minds meet’, indicated by the folded palms placed before the chest.The bowing down of the head is a gracious form of extending friendship in love, respect and humility.
Spiritual Significance of Namaste:
The reason why we do namaste has a deeper spiritual significance.It recognizes the belief that the life force, the divinity, the Self or the God in me is the same in all. Acknowledging this oneness with the meeting of the palms, we honor the God in the person we meet.
May the Lord help us also to see his divinity in everybody!

Namaste

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Namaste

Namaste by firoze shakir photographerno1
Namaste, a photo by firoze shakir photographerno1 on Flickr.

a word
of peace love
NAMASTE
hope you can say
OM
is home on the way
for your sins
on earth you have to pay
be nice to others
you are here for a short stay
your children
are your wealth
you give them love
with love
in your old age
they will repay
every day
of your twilight
when it comes
one day
your children
are your memories
that they will
give to their children
as a floral bouquet
with tears in my eyes
I have to say
before you think
of tomorrow
do think of today
don't get lost in transit
a one time visit
no fast forward
no replay


Dedicated to Dragon Fly with love to her family..

Firoze Shakir Poet

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The Shia Angst of Pain and Humanity




our bleeding
our matam
hurts them
the most
they dont mind
when muslim
terrorist blood
suckers
suicide bombing
humanity of ethnic
cleansing boast
it is only the shia
ass they love
to collectively roast
they see our bleeding
faces they see ghosts

unka dushman
hamara pyara dost

for fuck sake dont ask me
why pictures such as these I post

moharam
a 1400
year old protest
from village
to village
from coast
to coast
with our blood
on the soul
of yazidiyat
we repost

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Family Eating Tadgolas

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This Street Seller of Tadgolas Has Gone Through Lot of Pain


229,831 items / 1,928,279 views


He is Indian, unfortunately he is a North Indian from the very land being governed by a young dynamic chief minister Akhilesh Yadav..

He is now settled in Mumbai in my state , he faced hurdles but he takes it all in his stride, sometime back his hand cart was seized by the hardcore ruthless inhuman Municipality officials , and no mercy shown , his hand cart was dumped at a very distant suburb, he had to pay a fine and to bring back the handcart he would have to hire a tempo so he gave up as the transport charges he could buy two more hand carts , sold his juicy tadgolas sitting on the roads and I would surrealistically hidden in the shadows shoot his pain..

I saw him the other day and he was satisfied with life , he told me he wanted to go back to his state support his young chief minister and rebuild hope.. in whatever way he could.

So these are stories I shoot of people who really mean nothing to you ..

Now you will ask me what is his name .. Sorry I dont ask people I shoot either their names or their life stories being a Mystic I read the shadows the highlights come out openly and reveal the nature of their journey..in this case of a Uttar Pradesh migrant known as a Bhaiyya .. almost a lashing bad-word..

There was a time to add punch I converted my images into black and white and I was good as I began photography shooting monochrome , I shot on Delta Ilford the best black and white film in the world..

I shot the streets on Velvia ASA 50 Aand I miss film and slides but it was time to let go once I bought a digital and let go of so many things, buying camera equipment lenses etc , let go of my camera club Photographic Society of India , let go of salon photography..

My life took a drastic turn I became a blogger , falling in love for the first time on the Internet on the verge of a second marriage , to a Inuit from Alaska I became a romantic poet and online love literally crushed my balls and my testicular fortitude than I fell in love again with a half mix Red Indian Italian whom I called the blog goddess .. and there too I hit dirt and rubbed my face in night soil of my ludicrous dreams , than came a Sphinx and accidentally falling in love with a nubile transvestite from Lahore , destroyed the poetry of my pedantic pendulous soul.. hitting one end breaking at the other ..

I decided to become less poet more human till I fell in love again , all my last three romantic adventures was on Facebook.

And it was the last episodic flash in the pan that burnt me completely I gave up , moved out and am now self healing my wounds among normal down to earth people at Google+.

I pimp my poetic past at Google+ I wont fall in love ever I keep repeating this to myself, I also bought a lucky talisman I now wear round what others call the brain ... and I am sure this time they dare not call me dickhead.

So life is changing for me , as a poet I believe in polygamous predestination the mind and soul..

And this is my first blog so to speak... and my only conceited daughter has finally started reading my blogs through my tweets and she re tweeted my dumb dichotomous love to her 190 friends ..

And barring a few all my good bad ugly friends are on Facebook member of a Klu Klux Klan run by a whiz kid,,

The transmigration of the Facebook soul to Google+ is not possible , they are all in a reservation , living the life as lost dreamers .. and making one man rich..

Among the billions that boast of being on Facebook I am the lucky one simply because Fuck- I am not on Facebook..

Even my grand daughters Marziya Shakir 4 year old Nerjis Asif Shakir GooglePlus Kid 9 month old are both on Google+

So I spun a tale from a fruit on the streets now my fruit of the loom deleted doomed .. castrated cacophonous chaos of a showroom manager .. no show just room..a cosmic poet they will one day from the same night soil exhume ...giving hope to vegetables and legumes ..

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After a Very Long Gap I Shoot The Hijras Of Bandra Reclamation

They were two begging from the street shops on seeing me one of them hid her face but I dont give up I kept on shooting but I was late for work so I let the moment pass ..

I met after a few days shot them again but paid them generously near Bandra Jain Mandir Road.

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If Only I Could Tell You Why We Bleed ..

the black page
of islam
accursed
son of a satan
yazid
his evil
intentions
his hate
against
the holy progeny
a war
on the soul
of humanity
he decreed
his lust
for power
his tyranny
his gluttonous
greed an
evil seed
a bastard
an incestuous
half breed
for his life
the imam
did not plead
he gave his
noble head
but he did
not pledge
his allegiance
to yazid
yazid is dead
hussain lives
we protest
with our blood
the blasphemous
sacrilege
of our creed
by the greatest
terrorist yazid

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