Happy Morning From Bandra .

I have not been keeping good health and I am planning to switch over to a new Diabetes specialist ..Dr Shashank Joshi hardly has time for quintessential beggar poets like me ..but all in all he has been very kind considerate .

This morning I was sluggish while playing tennis but I try not to overdo it so after 30 minutes of tennis under Coach Surendra Pawar I set out on my walk clocking myself I keep changing routes today I walked from MET grounds till Mount Mary from the back steps I passed Marys Clan paid my tribute to the Madonna and her child in the Mount Mary basillica shot pictures than came down to Bandstand near Vastu building asked a guy to shoot me against Amitjis Deewar I had done his costumes for Bade Miya Chote Miya and Lal Badshah .

From here I passed Galaxy and entering Waroda road I said hi to Felix Sequeira builder old friend and cut across Bandra Bazar Road back home I had walked 5 km in 1 hour 30 minut

The Humility Of The Dam Madar Malangs of India

The Dam Madar Malangs With The Malang From Mumbai

I had reached Gwalior Railway Station from Panihar ,,as the only transport was tempos ,, used by workers farm laborers I caught one and than after a long journey caught another temp .. as the distance to Gwalior from Panihar is about 22 km..
Than I met these Malangs heading home they were here like me at the event ..personally invited by Peersab Syed Masoom Ali Baba Asqan of the Sufi Order of the Madarriya .
I enjoy shooting the Malangs but I will find a lot when I go for the Urus Of Zinda Shah Madar at Makhanpur in Feb,

I Only Shoot What God Wants Me To See ..

Dying dreams
Of dreamers
Living life 
Hopelessly
Refugees
On the outer
Fringe of
Humanity
Living out
Moments of
Insanity
Wondering
Whether to
Be or not to
Be subject of
My street angst
Restless mindless
Street photography
I Shoot them release
Them set them free
Dying branches of a
Dying tree ..

The poor will never have
Good days ..before good
Days come they will be
Buried ... The poor man's
Plight poor man's creed
The wanting seed ..

The dying reed

This Little Muslim Beggar Child Did Not Want Me To Shoot His Picture

he was ashamed
his mother begging
invoking Allahs name
martyred motherhood
burning in flames a
symbolic thought held
in a picture frame ,,
how a young mother like
her a beggar became
who was to blame ,,
a husband who forced
her to beg on the streets
what was his aim ..
master of the game
perhaps he was watching
from the distant her earnings
he would claim..


This is poetically inspired by an incident ,, a muslim guy would drop his wife two children in the evening outside the Tata Agiary ,, a little child begging with the mother and another child a girl doing her homework.. and the moment I went to shoot her picture she would abuse me ,, my workplace was close by those days at Bandra Hill Road and one day I waited and spotted him dropping them near the fire temple ,,

There are many beggar stories women forced to beg after being married off to a beggar ,,,and as my documentary is on Muslim beggars of India ,, I fervently shot them felt their pain .. women begging outside mosques ,,dargahs ,, the system cant find out the cause nor help in their rehabilitation.

My 6.50 km Walk Rediscovering Bandra

I left my house early morning at 7.45 am to play Tennis under Coach Surendra Pawar at MET Tennis Courts Bandra Reclaation..

After I had completed my tennis session I walked out timing myself with RunKeeper App..this time I did not take the path through the Rang Sharda Slums and the tunnel that leads to Bandra Reclamation Promenade and the shore ,..seafront the biggest open air toilet ,,with dark bums sunbathing in sea foam on the rocks .

Instead from the MET Courts I walked towards Lilavati Hospital towards the promenade end off the sea link ...I reached the promenade till the end crossed the parapet wall came to the deserted end and this time walked on a hillock that leads to the Khandeshwari temple and slums shot pictures and a video of a gyy called Asif who feeds stray cats ,,I took the steps and here is a garden full of lovers hugging each other and women in hijab and their Salu cloned studs I now came out near the Taj lands end and Fr Agnel Ashram.. I walked the entire Bandstand reached Waroda road from Warodar road to Bandra Bazar road and finally home /

I had walked without getting tired for over 2 hours non stop..and breakfast at home was Muli ke pararthe and Kaythe ki chutney .

I showered went out again and walked to get some work done for another 4 kms .

The Life and Times of A Cobbler

posted at Facebook

He has a small box of a stall at Bandra reclamation close to the municipal park and we bond as I pass him to play tennis at the MET gardens ..I inquire about his poor health ..for many months his stall was shut as he had gone to his daughters place for recuperation and recovery .
I have a cosmic relationship with cobblers the lowest rung in society those days when people called them Mochis .
My first cobbler friend was a guy who sat outside my school Private European school opposite Usha Sadan if my mom was late in picking me up I sat at his stall ..it was 1955 and memories of this school my European teachers Mrs Lester Miss June and Miss Marjorie are still alive .
But I digress this story is about the cobbler I have another cobbler friend at Bazar Road Poonam we get along very well he sits at the end of De Monte street ..and most of these cobblers are related .
The cobbler at Bandra Hill Road near my old working place was proud that his son was studying at Rizvi college...he will ask me to share a cup of tea with him when I nostalgically pass his way .
And I met another cobbler through Poonam this guy has a stall at Bandra Station road and makes hand made shoes in soft leather I had given him my military boots for repairing as the hard leather edges were hurting me he was asking a lot of money but I settled for Rs 200 he will line the entire boot with foam or soft material from inside .
He had some nice soft shoes his main karigar is a old man a Muslim from Agra ..who was stitching up a new pair of shoes with his hand
So now as I end my street story I wondered did Mayawatiji think that the cobbler dhobi sweeper need ugly park with statues and ugly elephants instead of progress development and these monstrosities are competing with the Bada Imambada and other monuments built humbly by the Nawabs of Avadh.
In short politicians who posture as saviors of the dalit have become multi millionaire done nothing for them.
My cobbler friend will live die a cobbler ..this is his cosmic fate when if he dies his wife will manage the stall.