My Flickr Archives 2014

2014
January (471)
February (574)
March (424)
April (293)
May (3893)
June (2335)
July (2097)
August (2292)
September (3846)
October (3956)
November (6868)
December (4258)

The Muslim Man

wonders
why dont
they start
governing
instead of
bringing
up issues
of hindus
muslims
conversions
aversions
control motor
mouths instead
of ghar wapasi
ghar ghar islam
talk of building
the nation food
for all work for
all education for
all,,breaking down
sectarian walls
but do all this
you dont need
mouths you need
balls ..united we
stand divided we
fall..clarion call

British Residency Revisited 2014

Most of my trips to Lucknow I shot the British Residency  after shooting Bada Imambada .

However due to the serious injury on my leg I did not shoot the Bada Imambada or the Bauli ..the way I normally shot it..


This time I wanted to shoot the British Residency without going wide , just portions on my 55 - 250 lens .

I shoot alone , and left to my thoughts and my running nose there was nothing between me and my inner self.

The British Residency is depresses me , it has lost its heritage value and nothing but a natural sleazy open air hotel for lovers and you could go a step and further and call it a brothel too..

I dont know if the Yadavs in power will ever understand the meaning of history , or the sacrifice of the loyal Indian sepoys who gave their life for the British Empire fighting their own rebel brothers ..on the other side of the fence.

I am not into history but I shoot British Residency..as our cultural inheritance despite the seminal stains on many a British graves that serve as beds for humping  couples,.

The graves are in a sorry state , some work of restoration is going on.. but I saw no scientific expertise around.

The British Residency opens its gates in the mornings and young lovers , burkha clad ladies with hunks walk in to get their libido restarted .

And I think more Foreigners visit Mahalaxmi Dhobi Ghats in Mumbai than the forgettable British Residency in Lucknow , it has not been packaged rigorously as a tourist stop,


I am assuming after all..and one person who had thorough knowledge love for the British Residency was  late Mr PC Little poet photographer restorer of cameras and historian,

A House Made On A Bed

perhaps physically challenged
frail old shivering holy scriptures
he read his frugal breakfast water
bread a woolen cap protected
his head on the side of a road
in lucknow warming himself
under a quilted  bed spread
he told me in a soft voice his
time was drawing near soon
he would be dead he feared
the rains as there was no
plastic covering overhead
i quietly placed a hundred
rupees note in his wrinkled
hand and politely fled

God You Robbed Me Of My Mind I Kept Quiet

you robbed me of my thinking process
within the soul of my humanity you put
chaos mental mess living in tatters of
borrowed dress i am living on the streets
my only address they offer me tea left
over food human kindness simply feeling
sorry for my divine madness what is my
future no inkling of my past my bank of
memories vacuous no emotions no stress
but i remember her the woman i loved
who ran away with my best friend taking
away the last vestige of my hope my
interest pawned promises emptiness

The Poor Muslim Caught Between Ghar Wapsi And Ghar Ghar Islam

his once peaceful world
has lost its charm forced
conversions bodily harm
within the soul of silence
sectarian storm he seeks
hope humanity peace
brotherly bliss calm
he holds on to allah
they want him to reach
out to ram. am ke am
gutli ke dam..winter
chill he seeks warmth

Kehke Ghar Ghar Islam Karte Hain Musalmano Ka Badnam

gar yeh garib musalmanon  ka karte kam
paise ki lalach main akar musalman nahi
chodta islam..gar usko milti rozi aur kuch
kam bagal main allah muh pe ram...