The Beggar Lady With Two Faces Ajmer Sharif

In my short life as a photographer , I have shot hordes of beggars , but this lady killed my insides the first time I saw her while climbing the mountains barefeet to meet Malang Baba Wahid ,, I took a hasty shot of her , she was in a group that lives in makeshift tents at the mountain foothills ,,
And this was in the dargah lane ,here at Ajmer I think in humility I am the only one shooting the captive souls in wicker baskets , because I cannot afford to buy these souls I shoot them ..I can not sit compose my shots of beggars ,, with the crowds moving in it would be a stampede .and till date no Rajasthani cop has ever provoked me dressed as I am they think I am some crazy Sufi Bawa ,,and than being barefeet I look like a beggar with a stolen camera round my neck.. In Mumbai they would have locked me up as a suspect ,, beaten the shit out of me to tell them where I stole the camera from ,so I wear a press card ,, Internet Photographer No1 and as I dont have a car the cops cant catch me and give me breath inhaler test...
Well back to my beggar lady with two faces , after I shot her a few years back I never saw her again..the only beggar and Ibeg with him at Dhai Djinn Ka Jhopda , waits for me eagerly if I sit next to him , people give us both about 700 to 1000 bucks all crumpled Rs 100 notes .. this time I gave him my only beggars bowl too, he said it was lucky and he added he could never afford a beggars bowl, this beggars bowl, was given to me by a bawa ..I carried on my shoulders for a short distance at Haji Malang ,, I did not want to take it , but he said Keep it we are beggars ,,,under the shut eyes of the Lord..
So life has been a great adventure without going to the Niagara Falls , or Ladakh and all those tempting places in Switzerland ,, but I would die of thirst of life if was to shoot a landscape without beggars ,,I Co exist with beggars , I maybe a slight notch above the beggar on the street , but the day I die I will be looking worse than a beggar with nothing on me ,, just a jute gunnybag.. and the road leading to a Hospital to rest my bodyparts to be given to beggars I shot to inherit their humility and their simplicity .
And this is a blank post at Flickr I realize I blog better on Facebook .. because I know the faces of those who read me , and even those who read me with their eyes closed ,, yes my picture tells the rest of my untold story.

Ramzan Aya Musalman Bhikariyon Ke Dil Main Arman Laya

For those of my Friends who dont understand the description of my title in Urdu ..it simply means succinctly that when Ramzan comes it brings hope in the hearts of Beggars .. and here in Mumbai a Muslim beggar is a Muslim beggar , we certainly dont ask them are you Shia or are you Sunni.. this is the beauty of culture etiquette in Indian Islam which we call Adab Tehzeeb.
..Islam is certainly not the same from one continent to the other ..
I will explain that later , and it has nothing to do with my being a Shia I am proud to be an Indian and I am humble as a Shia the Shia was born with Humility inherited from Hussain and Pride was the only essence that crushed Yazid ,, we remember him always but only as accursed , when hear of Shia s killed during Ramazan.
And you cant blame Saudi Arabia for getting ivolved with the Yemen conflict , they had to enter the arena simply to use their American bought weapons that would be obsolete , and honestly , Saudi dont have the balls to fight Israel,, so this was the best opportunity to kill Shias .. and this is the Imperialistic Hegemony backed by America or any other world power I am not into politics and this is not a political blog this is just my assumption..the ISIS monster was created by the Saudis and one day soon it will land in their backyard too.. having used most of the weapons in Yemen.. they will have nothing to fight the ISIS .. and than America will send them ground troops and help the Salafis ,,.
I am ashamed of being called a Muslim , simply because the Muslims today are not the Muslims of yore ,, Imagine killing persecuting Shias and other minorities foreigners in the Holy Month Of Ramzan .. Yes Muslims love killing Muslims during Ramzan like gluttons , bloodthirsty animals ,,I call myself an Indian and India is my Karma and my Dharma ,,
I identify with the Shias only through Hussain..and my Shiasm is my personal prerogative ,we may be Shias but than if you are from Pakistan our mindset will certainly not be the same at all.. my roots my branches and fruits are all purely Indian..Even my Karbala is Indian.. so this is what I wanted to say ,, we condemn oppressors , we condemn Terrorism , Oppression , but those who strongly support Salafi Islam are happy seeing us killed murdered ,,this is the way of the World and everyday is Karbala it still bleeds in every Shias heart .. and he celebrates Ashura each time you plant a bomb in his Mosque and bleed the pages of the Holy Koran..
A poem would be too frivolous way of remembering an act of dastardly cowardice ,,
ALLAHUMMA LANATA QATALATA YA HUSSAIN AS WA AULAD IL HUSSAIN AS WA ASHAB IL HUSSAIN

The Ear Cleaners Of Bandra Talao ,,,Cleaning Clogged Ears

Its A Mad Mad World

I was going for my walk.. it was raining it was first of Ramzan, she came out towards me and began shouting at me I looked at her straight in the face she was drenched very angry, I shot her..I knew she would not take it lightly.. but like little kids a few photographers have a Sulaimani keeda too..I moved away after the shot and she followed me ..her words were something like this ..you took my photo shithead ..I avoid confrontations ,, but I cant resist shooting mad people , the madness in me succumbs to the madness in others..and according to my dear departed mother there is a lot of madness in my family..madness can be a form of mundane melancholia or purely creative madness .
I still dont know why I began documenting mad people and I met a lot of them , they came with the rains left their footprints on the emulsion of my soul and they left leaving nothing behind save the pictures I bravely took..
In Hyderabad a madman during Moharam had caught me from the back and would have strangled me if my friends had not noticed , his hold on my throat was such I could not even raise my voice .. perhaps it is my tribute to this man ,..my second life I decided to shoot madman..Idiot was merely a book I read several time , but shooting idiocy was my first time .
The few I shot have disappeared ,..and when I pass those dark dinghy lanes I think of them..what happened , what triggered their vacuous mind to flee..and mind you as a madman in India you are pelted with stones , the more sane crazier than thou throw hot water on them .. there is a fear a deathly fear he will kidnap the kids and the irony even our cops stay away from madmen and drugaddicts ..they also stay away from those who give them hafta or protection money is just a passing thought .
This is a blank post at Flickr I will copy this text once I complete my evaluation of madpeople I have encountered but those days I did not have the courage to shoot them .perhaps I did not have a camera I lost out on a lot of wild memories.
Mental health ,,or loss of mental health here in Mumbai is tragic .. earlier it was electric shocks but I missed being locked up by a whisker during my heavily drinking days .
And those who can shoot lunatic asylums mental homes ,,it is sad.. .treatment without compassion , just misplaced clinical aid and till date hard as I tried I could never get over One Flew Over The Cuckoos Nest .. In India watching mad movies the older ones was torture slapstick comedy and insult to madpeople .
What is madness and perhaps Indian madness cannot be isolated with the great minds of Freud Jung Adler ,, but Indian madness is unique in its own share of Godliness .When a poor man becomes mad even Gods forsake him..and there were stories of crooked people in order to usurp a persons property with the collusion of rogue mental doctors got a sane person locked up for the wrong reasons ,, Is there any minister that represents Madpeople ,,and this world is cruel heartless you could stage manage a sting , getting an old lonely man caught for molesting a child and than have someone eat up his property too with collusion of rogue cops ,, and I am not defending a genuine child molester .I have three granddaughters.
But than this blog is about madpeople in mad mad world ,, and in my case the world is my backyard ,,have you not seen mad people removing fleas from the under fold of his tattered dirty filthy trouser ..a mad woman hitting her head against a wall,,
But than the madness you see at Dargahs I have shot that extensively known as Hazri is very different from the mundane madness on the streets ..I have shot hardcore Hazri at Hussain Tekri Jaorah, Mira Datar, and other Sufi Shrines including the Holy Shrine of Makanpur.
I am not much learned on the subject of madness ,,,even we sane people go mad from time to time but to be totally completely mad living out your time in a dreamless world is absolutely crazy..
Perhaps I am going mad not having gone for my morning walks since 4 days ,,but seriously think about madpeople ,we are so vociferous about dogs being killed at Yulin but we are sadly so quiet and silent about madpeople ,, even the poor people drenched seeking alms in Ramzan.. we as Indians smash statues , go berserk.. at Azad Maidan.. during Ramzan .. and than those fucked kids rot in jails and those who engineer such street side riots with political patronage are laughing all the way to the bank.. they may have been Muslims but in the eyes of God and the Law they are still Indians misguided Indians rushing to Iraq to fight with the ISIS ,, will they go and fight for our country ..Fuck No.. they lost the right to be Indians these are the real madfucked people ,, led by madfucked Mullahs .. and they need to be locked and the keys thrown in the Arabian Sea .
Happy Morning I am now going for my walk.

Shooting The Back lanes Of Rustic Bandra

Bandra has great back lanes Nagrana lane Somnath lane and the rainy ambiance the fresh fragrance of rainy soil add to nostalgia ,,the crosses crucifixes all add the East Indian Ethos , the love of their forefathers that believed in the holistic power of Jesus Christ , he helped them when they went to fish in stormy water , he gave them abundance of fish.. he gave them joy happiness he gave them loaves .
He saved them from cholera , plague and if the Lord heard their prayers the humble East Indian built a Cross and this was his simple life over 150 years back.. the paddy fields , the smiling faces , the chirpy kids , those lazy Sunday siestas ,, those gatherings during baptism , Holy Communion , the clinking of home made tangy wine , those drunken steps of new love ,,,there was no hate , no animosity , no ill will this was the East Indian Gaothan.. a house several houses that became Home ..
And as the century turned , times changed , the Gaothan was invaded by a stream of migrants , and change sudden change tore the heart soul of the Gaothan..
In the graves the forefathers of the East Indians wept ,, every landmark uprooted , and change was like a ferocious wind , you know the rest ,,, as a photographer I shot the soul of a slowly painfully dying Gaothan.. The Church did not realize that the heads were diminishing .. empty vacant spaces at Mass..pushed forcibly to Uttan Vasai Nalla Sopara .. their heritage gone and than that one day taking the Virar fast to visit their beloved Mount Mary , and here Aunty May on weak legs picked up a candle shaped like a house hoping against hope to come back and live at Ranwar again..and she thought of her friend Agnes her children Bosco Brian Basil than hiding her tears with her veil she began to move towards the Altar of Mother Mary...
Such is the will of God that we should have everything through Mary.”
~Saint Alphonsus Liguori~

People Ask Me What Inspired Me To Become A Photographer

I said dumbfaced
Garbage ..all over
my beloved Bandra
Garbage consensual
attachment poetically
aligned to Garbage ,
breathing in breathing
out fulsome fumes of
Bandra Garbage I
seamlessly Age
A Yogic experience
part of my Tantric
Kundalini me my love
for Garbage open
gutters bad drainage
God Bless The Bandra
Municipality as they
go on a rampage
like Don Quixote
with long brooms
a war they wage
The Perfumed Garden
Sweet Fragrance of
Irrepressible Garbage
Man is the only filthy
Animal on two legs
in an illusory cage
he generates mound
mounds of Garbage
his horrific soul
lost in Garbage
Even Lord God
Cant Salvage
Nature watches from afar
insidiously enraged ,,
robbed ruined destroyed
by gluttonous Man
at every stage ,..

I Come To Worli Seaface For Work..But Dont Shoot Rainy Day Pictures

I come here very often to meet a client I come by cab via the sea link and again take a cab back home ,, I shoot a few shots from the cab window and the cab driver was telling me this place is jam packed on weekends .

The poor of Worli gaon , Worli slums live cheek and jowl with the super rich ,,as far as sharing the promenade goes ,, and the poor are happy getting wet playing cricket off the saaface ..while the rich walk ,, to lose weight some jog , there are guys showing of their curves on the parallel bars ,,unlike Carter Road and Bandra Bandstand you dont see many Miyas here ,, I maybe wrong I come on weekdays only..

Worli Seaface is nostalgic as I shoot the Marriammen Feast here every year,, once I used to come to Mr Dilip Vengsarkars house but that was a few years back for his trousers and shirts .he was very hospitable  and extremely courteous ..I used to make Mr Sunil Gavaskars suits too a very long time back..

And beyond the  Worli Seaface is Worli Gaon . fishing village I shot the eve of Holi among the Kolis ,, with my friend from Reunion.. The Kolis loved him and were hell bent on treating him to their home made Jambul liuor but my friend politely refused .. The booze that some Kolis brew is impeccable and at Danda a lot of Bollywood stars came in the night to taste and savor it including bombils fried ravas and promfret ,, Koli cuisine is out of this world I know it as I lived at Danpada .

The East Indian Kolis of Vasai Killa Bunder are great hosts and their food is spicy and lip smacking .. I know a family Rudolf my fisherman friend ,

The beauty of a blog unlike a picture of an analogue photographer is not limited to what he shot , the blog raves of stories tidbits anecdotes coherently beyond the picture ,,the blog takes you to unexplored territories and you need to write simply.. to get the message across the other end.

I would be a fish out of water if I tried blogging without a picture the essence of my blog is the content that I shot impulsively maybe accidentally too..I hardly know about SEO shit I dont care a bit about it ,, as long as I am emotionally involved with the train of my thought ,,

So a street shot of the Worli promenade on a rainy day ,, can act as catharsis for the loneliness within the inner angst ,, and strangely when I come to Worli Seaface for work I am formally dressed no sartorial shocks .. no turban no beads no rings and certainly no mystical attitude ,,

After my Canon 60 D got wet in the rains and conked off I am scared to take it out without my umbrella ,, taking out in the raincoat was miscalculated disaster ..but miraculously it recovered and is now in the best of health.


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