American Photographer Sam

This was in Delhi, Chehlum procession, I was atop a crane truck, shooting pictures, the crowds watching me, I asked to shoot me with my Nikon F100 while I shot him with my Nikon D70..this was very close to the Jamma Masjid, there are a lot of pictures here my 21 km walk upto Shahe Marda Shia cemetery, the heavy rains made me abort this event, I missed out on the burial of the Safed Tazia..
I left from here quite disappointed, without realising that the cut on my hand would put me back , away from my work and my shop for more than a month.
I know one thing that I may not shoot Moharam in Delhi , not because of the cut, its just that Delhiis far too tame as compared to the other cities I have visited.
Now on introspection I think Moharam in Mumbai both Ashura and Chehlum are out of the world.
The kind of Matam that takes place at Rehmatabad , the Shia cemetery in Mumbai is not for the weak hearted, Hyderabad is also intense, the Badi Bargah is a stream of running blood…some of the older conservative people in Hyderabad , dont take kindly to photographers or photography during Moharam, perhaps people like me who look wild .. not normal.You know what I mean.
Overall Hyderabad Moharam I will never forget for some memorable moments and Sajjad Bhai.. who went out of his way to help me shoot mos tof the important segments.

Filed under: Uncategorized , Chehlum in Delhi 2007, firoze shakir poet blogger photographer

Manhole Ahead No Sign

I am alive .

I have literally taunted death , a few weeks back it was the King Cobra at the Vasai Fort, yesterday while shooting pictures of the rainy day near Globus off Hill Road a bus took a sharp swing the driver did not see me he halted the bus screechingly a few inches away from my designer butt.I thanked him with a nod of my head.

This morning I decided not to come from Boran road but through my earlier old house Kamlabai Sadan that is at 21 DeMonte Street, I was with my camera and draped in a stylish raincoat that I had picked up in Vancouver Canada thought I would wade through Chinchpokli Road , the lethargic Municipal guys , have opened up all the manholes without even showing a sign that it is open.I climbed a short parapet of the AB Service Apartment Hotel, shot the flooded Gonsalves Wadi, took a step to get down and fell 4 feet in an open gutter, with all of me and my camera , luckily today I had decided not to load myself with my jewellery.They even did not come to help me as they saw me taking the pictures of the flooded garbage bin, this they wont forgive, pictiorial evidence of their negligence that has bought Mumbai to a sudden standstill .

I really feel dumbstruck that the Municipal Head Honcho Mr Johnny Joseph Municipal Commissioner who curses the Media for showing last years 26th July 2005 deluge clips, is myopically shortsighted, the clips the media are showing are of the present situation less forgiving than what happened last year.

Our august Chief Minister , he blames the heavy rainfall and not enough time for preperation .

This is Democracy , of the People , for the People just buy the People later it is Good Bye People.

Last year the scapegoat was plastic bags that had choked the drainage system, it has also choked the minds of the administration, that has done nothing but sweet talk.And this will happen again next year , you can take me word for it and I am only a mere mediocre Nostradamus.

Even with the change of government administration, this is going to happen, as the city fathers have to get their act together , not play with the lives of citizens.. who voted this government to power.

I am not into any political scenario, would not be posting pictures of Bandra Bazar road , much before this deluge the pictorial evidence of premonsoon showers that caused quite an havoc and municipal apathy even at that time.

The MMRDA chief Mr T Chadrashekar and the Municipal Commissioner Mr Johnny Joseph cannot pass the buck, not this time on any other forces but their lack of interest ,negligence, unpreparedness , taking things for granted.

As I write this badly bruised in body but not in spirit , I feel sorry for the common man.

I hope Mr RK Laxman the great cartoonist of the castrated news of India is listening to amateur photographers who turn cartoonist falling in open mouthed manholes of Despair trying to shoot an image of a fleeting rain washed reality.

The rains continue unashamedly , ripping of the roofs above mans head, causing havoc but the spirit of Mumbai and the Mubaikar does not die.

Mumbai will live and the Deshmukhs , the Josephs, and the Chandrashekars will be soon be forgotten.

The picture you see is the municipal guys in khaki outside the AB Hotel at Chinchpokli Bandra West where I fell in the open Manhole no signage for the same , still unconcerned about my unholy water dip still not putting a board to show the open manhole.This is the heartless men that man Mumbai Municipality.And I was quite shaken up and worried that the Nikon D70might not be able to brave this fall. So excuse the fuzzy picture , read the story.

This is the ground level municipal sweeper, who has opened up the manholes , it is the common man that has placed something or the other on the gutter to show you that it is open.

So you can imagine the rest of the pedigreed Hierarchy that calls itself Brihan Mumbai Maha Nagarpalika.

God save us from the Brihan Mumbai Maha Nagarpalika, the Rains we will bear.

Update
This too was written when I fell in the Manhole, was featured at Mumbai Mirror adding to my notoriety , I will not castigate the cub reporter that inadvertently changed my name to Firoze Sabir…

Blogging is not Journalism , Journalism is money motivated , big bucks, ads , etc, Blogger man does it free, no ads,no donations, here at Word Press it will take some time before they learn the Art Of Commenting..on someones post.
Journalists are touchy people , get easily hurt, fragile frangible souls…
Bloggers are thick skinned , dimwitted ,idiotic , plagiarist, opinionated, I sometimes wonder why dont we have a Bloggers Newspaper .. we blggers interviewing journalists for a change, we promise to keep it legal.
But I know for a fact if the Hijdas ever come up with Hijda News Of India..I might get the coveted post of Editor..Photo Editor I mean…
At Bloggerspot comments were spams, the guy who posted more than 15 posts was immediately hit on his knuckles for being a positive spam.
The best guys at commenting are all at Buzznet…perhaps one day they might hitch a ride to catch up with me here…but I guess I can be read in one or two women hearts at Buzznet .
This is a Google Reader managed thing…

Filed under: Uncategorized , blog bashing, firoze shakir poet blogger photographer, photoblogger

Mumbai Meri Jaan 2

Mumbai Meri Jaan means Mumbai is My Life.

This is the road that I take to exit Bandra Bazar, I take a right pass the Agha Khan Jamatkhana , towards Kalpana Chemists , Pahelvi Restaurant onto Boran Road now I am at Bandra Hill Road.
From here I pass Globus and Waterfield Road, the Turner Road Traffic beyond Moti Mahal Restaurant now I take 28th road and cut through 24th road to reach my shop.

I wear slippers, on a rainy day, since last night Mumbai has been lashed mercilessly by the rains, choked gutters is a Bandra Municipalty Rhapsody, I click pictures on Bazar Road I over heard a smart aleck say in Hindi “Chutiya Photo Leke Gaand Me Dalega, Lekin Bazar Road Aisi hi Rahega.”

He was an elderly guy , had seen many worse monsoonal; showers at Bandra Bazar Road, translated his words were like rocks hurled at my poetic soul..He said “Cunt are you taking the pictures of Misery to shove it up your Ass, because misery at Bazar Road will never end.”

This is the bastion of the Congress Corporator Ali Jaan Sheikh, the Messiah of the Bhartiya Janta Party Mr Ashish Shelar , who incidentally stays above my house.I have nothing personal against them, they are my friends well wishers this is not a tongue in cheek satire, this is reality they and their parties dont see it.
I hope Mr Baba Siddiki Congress I MLA Mrs Priya Dutt Roncon MP Congress I read this too, make the municipal authorities wake up from their slumber.

I will post my rainy pictorial poems , forget Vasai Boat Pulling , so excuse the break in my pictorial consistency, the loud mouth poem was a reply to people who hit you with rubber band pellet on your ass and it hits the heart instead.

July 4 th present to a Muse.

Iqara sent an able technician Raju who has ameliorated my internet problems .

Close upto 3 hours I could not access my homepage at Buzznet, if this is changing for the better God help all at Buzznet.
I dont understand this Buzz thing, I as a colored Indian know one word that has always terminally used on me Buzz Off … but I know I exxagerate , but whatever issues , or our ongoing problems with members, or whatever our grouse, I think Buzznet is the best social site , for meeting , bonding sharing, scaring and caring , in my case it was a wrongfully pairing.. soul bearing.. I am humbled by my own wordy daring .

I can only post one picture at Bloggerspot as their Uploading tool has gone asymmetrically dysfunctional…I gave their support that calls itself Bloggeremployees, Steve Haldanes Email address.

update
This was an old post too, rains is the best time to let of steam, the heat and humidity is such we are looking forward to the rains , down below my house on the road leading towards Bandra Reclamation there seems to be a massive gas leak, so the Fire Brigade and the guys from the area are trying to find out ,which is like searching for a needle in a haystack, someone or the other is always digging the roads, the telephone guys puncture the water pipes , so the water department guys come once again did it up to rectify the fault in the bargain puncture an electrical cable, so the Reliance guys come redig the same spot to fix the problem, well now I believe the gas guys are digging patches to find out the gas leak, if you walk towards Bandra Hill Road it looks like all the roads have been dug up at the same time…this is one big leak .
Now when the monsoons come someone or the other will fall into one of these ditches , someone other than me will leak the news to Mumbai Mirror…a picture of the guy Firoze Sabir pointing to the ditch where he fell, no nothing happened to his Nikon D70 it was damaged much before Nikon developed it in some Central Asian country ..
So life goes on…blogging is a marathon exercise provided you have words to write , thoughts will follow…

Filed under: Uncategorized , photographerno1

Demolished Dreams

No it was not a suicide bomber .

No it was not a bomb attack.

These are human dwellings, at Bandra Bazar Road, the most famous road online that traces a guttered path, poholes filth, municipal apathy leads to my house euphemistically called Highland Court . Any other word would be a malapropism to describe the reality of living in a sewer, like drowning rats.But space is expensive even in Bandra Bazar Road, an old fishing village till date is still called Gaothan, a cluster of old heritage bungalows mostly belonging to the East Indians, natives of Bandra, these simple minded peace loving people never knew of an Apocalyse that would uproot them , the holocaust of a builder Mafia, that in collusion with the authorities got the properties for peanuts, the Roman Catholic Chuch the bed rock of Faith of these Parishioners watched cassocked impotencty, that did nothing as the Church is apolitical, The Lord God of Hosts as impotent as those who preach it.

The East Indian diaspora now selling off their properties, under threat, extortion moved further towards Malad, Naigaum, Uttan Vasai and Virar. The Catholics dont have a political party base like the others in Mumbai, even the Eunuchs have their All India Samaj, the Catholics have it but they are a canine toothed force to bark at the screening of the Da Vinci Code or any film ridiculing the Papacy, The Clergy or the Church, and this is what I see, this may not be my call as I am after all not a Catholic, but I owe it to the Padres the good the bad and the ugly at Holy Name High School Colaba Convent Street, who taught me a few things beyond ABC, my friends have been Catholics, they taught me fun things, love ,dance and the compassion of Christ, the Midnight Mass, New Years Eve even now an old wizened priest in his late 90s Fr Stephen Nazareth from St Josephs Convent R C Church calls me up to see I am Ok, none of these Padres ever hinted at my conversion, never, when I was down they helped me get up gave me crutches of Hope to be able to face and fight off my demons.

Any way the Bandra Gaothan, became a great money spinning racket in the 80s and 90s the existing bungalow would apply to the Municipal authorities for repair work, monies would change hands, the Bungalow would be demolished completely , minus plinth a two storey building would surface propped up on iron channels, this was called R P repair permission, now it would have a number of flats, the owner being compensated with a larger area floor space cash to boot, the remainig flats this unscruplous builder sold out to middle income earning folks.

I lived at 21Demonte Street, Kamla Bai Sadan, it was built the same way is like a pack of cards, the walls leak, or should I say cry, the ceiling is a cement thatch, Fr Jaun from St Peters Parish comes annually to bless the Catholic houses here.We sold our house for nothing, as we had no buyers for 12 years, this was about 750 sq feet apartment , we split it in two units.Even the present Catholic lady the oldest resident Mrs Gomes, shakes her head a sick bed ridden husband children in Canada, life an hell called 21 De Monte Street.

I have thus given you a backdrop of a caucas how they belittle living , living conditions of Man.The Building in my picture is not a RP or repair permission building, a plot was bought , by the builder Reddy flouting all legal norms, in collusion with the building department, this building came up, poor people with their saved income bought flats, one fine day the Municipality woke up from its slumber passed a notice that it was illegal, the builder Reddy fled those that had bought the flats , faced the music, the walls were demolished these are rooms of Despair, what a natural view, the clouds to come and rest here, so do pigeons the rains, to give comfort to humanity , doomed for ever the families and their kids. Soon they will have to move out completelely .I dont know the latest details on this building.

The Municipality watches, this Municipality has a congenital deformity, it was born without a heart.They demolish , everything Illegal, the only problemit takes them years to get at the actual Truth, it takes a Court Order, to wake them up to Reality. Legal or Illegal.

I am not a social crusader, I write this as a poem, some will read it, some will skip it, such is life, you guys are blessed.
Yes I am a Blogger, a blogger is more truthful than a journalist, a photo blogger is more truthful than just a word shitting blogger , because the photoblogger backs up his poetry with pictoroial prose..I am a blog photographer .. I left poem hunter as people read my poems but could not see the poetry of my picture that accompanies my poetic thoughts…pictureless poetry is not for me…

I have lived here at Bandra Bazar Road so I know the Pain, it never goes away troubles you even when you are comfortably settled in better surroundings, I am not a cub reporter sensationalizing a Fashion Designer an Old Time Actress not being allowed to open a Fashion Studio at Pali Hill Bandra , their reporter a close friend called me, from his office if I could take a shot of the property where the studio is to come up, I was shell shocked… me who shoots pictorial pain, such is Mumbai Mirrored through yellow journalism, sold as last weeks news today.

update
A few months back I met the absconding builder Reddy he was moving about in a white Mercedes he offered me a lift I politely refused.

Filed under: Uncategorized

Puppets of a Lesser God

Two glasses of water, free no charge to beggared souls, the rickshahs black and yellow blurr add to the ambience of our Bandra Bazar Road surroundings . This outside the Pahelvi Hotel, where I have Brun Maska ..buttered hard bread.I gave them also.

Dont ask me , but this is a picture of Hope my favorite, the eyes say it all, I reiterate that the little kid is mesmerized with my rings, my attire. Yes it is these little kids who treat me as Photographerno1.

Like two peas in a pod
childhood slip shod
these are the
children on a string of life
puppets of a lesser god
spare the child spoil the rod
hopes dashed on the shores
of a desecrated destiny
rough shod
turner road
traffic signal squad

Filed under: Uncategorized , firoze shakir poet blogger photographer, photographerno1, Turner Road Traffic Signal Kids

Feline Fidelity !Feline Fantasies !

This is also a House Of God its called a Grotto, it has a niche for the Lord who is hung on the Crucifix, as you exit Bandra Bazar Road towards the Station Road, the Lord watches you acknowledges your moving presence, some nod, some curtsy, some not in a hurry enter within genuflect.

Outside the Grotto, a Maharashtrian couple watch you idly, go about peeling green mangoes, a chopping them into uncountless pieces, this is for pickle making., this couple have found solace at the feet of the Lord, who does not mind raw mangoes, geenish yellow, mouth watering is a human phenomenon , even the Lord once in a while turns human.

The cat on a window sill of the Grotto, eyes far seeing, sometimes I think cat eyes are far too feminine human to my liking, some cats have eyes green glassy like a pond, some have blue eye sapphired like the sky , they dont have brown eyes, thank God, brown eyes is an indegenous anomaly I cant explain.

Getting away from feline eyes , the feline body language , is purely a women thing , purring, hair raising, rubbing gently against his legs, man is a human animal on two and a half legs, the little one cause of misery for all future generations, feline freedom, from the rubbing and tenderness straight into the Mans hearth, lap where the fires burn the testicular cauldron, no simmering here, no overcooking too, this feline felecity is pardonable, enjoyable , the steaming gruel starts overflowing, this is premature ejaculation, needs to be checked, Feline felony is when the cat fed up of your moistness, takes a spring on the neighbours lap, this is also known as feline frivolity honestly there is much to feline fortitude, initially I thought of writing this as a feline poem, but decided against it.. I have come back and re edited the American feline friendly woman, from my essay, as I have lost too many friends adding enemies is not going to do good to my locus standi… it is not an abbreviated pun on my masculinity ..or my dysfunctional ,demented delusions.

This has nothing to with feline fastidiousness

Feline frequency, feline frustrations,feline frugality,feline fraudulence,feline foreplay,feline fixation, feline fascinations,feline fallacy…feline flippancy

I as a creator of Poems love to crush them, kill them before they are fully grown this is called Poetic Infanticide…No Poem No Cry.

Feline Fantasies…

my still born poem, aborted, thrown as a carcass in the dustbin of my despair.

This is an old post, sometimes back I wrote I dont shoot cat pictures I do…but not like photojournalists… I shoot cats as I poetize their domesticity…

Filed under: Uncategorized , firoze shakir poet blogger photographer, photojournalists

Pedestrian Poetry

a penny for your thoughts i said
you litte fella with your bald head
born into a world where less love
more hate widespread
as you grow be careful how you tread
in a world where 12 years old Taliban
bodies behead
12 year and 15 year old
beneath the airoli bridge
add to virginal bloodshed
everyone idolizing his godhead
distorted scriptures
satanic verses
man misled
man to man at loggerhead
said the young fella
looking me in the eye
grandpa.. i will bridge the gap
when i reach ahead
perhaps at that time
you might be dead
a new brave world
me and my kind will embed
where Faith will not
be a figure head
with blessings
of the thoroughbred.

Filed under: Uncategorized , firoze shakir poet blogger photographer, pedestrian poetry

Street Poetry

man born human
will always a beggar be
an extension
for his life
to live the next day
in his beggars bowl
as gods charity
victim of self delusions
arrogance vanity
forgetting his true status
man who imposes his will
on another man
a beggar snatching from
another beggar
lifes profanity
sub dividing
with hate
hindu muslim christianity
my god is bigger than your god
fuck humanity
man on earth
proselytizing
death and insanity
disseminating
more depravity

this picture and the earlier one was shot in Delhi while shooting the procession of the Safed Tazia in Chelum

Filed under: Uncategorized , firoze shakir poet blogger photographer, photographerno1, street poetry

Street Photography

a private moment
undisturbed a novel
within a novel
a new story
that you
through the
lens of your
camera see
you copy it
immediately
adding it a
cybernetic
extension
capturing it as
street photography
photo journalists
wont agree
learning
pictorial prose
as grammar
they who dont
read or write poetry
how will they
capture
the essence
of lifes reality
shooting dogs cats
mundane shit
palming it
off in seminal stained
indian newspapers
as uncycled photography

Filed under: Uncategorized , firoze shakir poet blogger photographer, photographerno1, photojournalists

Mere Moulah Akka Hussain ..Ya Abbas

Karbala Part I
Courtesy

Marsiya by Mir Anis

Jab qata ki masafat e shab aaftaab ne
Jalwa kiya sahar ke rukhe behijaab ne
Dekha suwe falaq Shahe gardoon raqaab ne
Mudh kar sada rafeeqo ko di us janaab ne
Aakhir hai raat hamd o sanaye Khuda karo
Utho fareezaye sahri ko ada karo

Haan ghaaziyon ye din hai jidaal o qitaal ka
Yaan khoon bahega aaj Mohammad ki aal ka
Chehra khushi se surkh hai Zahra ke laal ka
Guzri shabe firaaq din aaya visaal ka
Hum wo hain gham karenge malak jin ke waastey
Raatein tadap ke kaati hai is din ke waastey

Ye sunke bistaron se uthe wo Khuda shinaas
Ek ek ne zebe jism kiya fakhira libaas
Shane muhasino mein kiye sab ne be hiraas
Baandhe amame aaye imame zaman ke paas
Rangeen abaayein dosh pe kamre kasey huwe
Muskh o zibaad o itr mein kapde basey huwe

Khaime se nikle Shay ke azeezaane khush khisaal
Jin mein kayi thay Hazrate Khairun nisa ke laal
Qasim sa gul badan Ali Akbar sa khush jamaal
Ek jaa Aqeel o Muslim o Jafar ke nau nihaal
Sab ke rukhon ka noor sipahre bareen pa tha
Athara aaftaabon ka ghuncha zameen pa tha

Nagaah charkh par khate abyaz huwa ayaan
Tashreef jaanemaaz pe laaye Shahe zamaan
Sajjade bich gaye aqabe Shahe ins o jaan
Saute Hasan se Akbar e Mahrooh ne di azaan
Har ek ki chashm aansuon se dab daba gayi
Goya sada Rasool ki kaano mein aagayi

Namoose Shaah rotey thay khaime mein zaar zaar
Chupke khadi thi sahn mein bano e naamdaar
Zainab balayein leke ye kahti thi baar baar
Sadqe namaziyoon ke muazzin ke main nisaar
Karte hain yoon sana o sifat Zul Jalaal ki
Logon azaan suno meri yousuf jamaal ki

Ye husn e saut aur ye qirat ye shad o madd
Haqqa ke afsahul fusuha thay inhi ke jadd
Goya hai lahn e Hazrat e Dawoode ba khiradd
Ya Rabb rakh is sada ko zamane mein taa abadd
Shu’be sada mein pankhadiyaan jaise phool mein
Bul bul chahak raha hai riyaaz e Rasool mein

Saf mein huwa jo naraye qad qaamatis salaat
Qaim huwi namaaz uthey Shahe qainaat
Wo noor ki safein wo musalli falak sifaat
Sardaar ke qadam ke taley thi rahe nijaat
Jalwa tha ta ba arshe mu’alla Hussain ka
Mus haf ki lauh thi ke musalla Hussain ka

Quraan khula huwa ke jama’at ki thi namaaz
Bismillah aagey jaise ho yoon thay Shahe hijaaz
Satrein thi ya safein aqab e Shahe sarfaraaz
Karti thi khud namaaz bhi inki adaa pe naaz
Sadqe sahar bayaaz pe bainas sutoor ki
Sab aayatein thi mus hafe naatikh ki noor ki

Dunya se uth gaya wo qayaam aur wo qaood
Inke liye thi bandagi wajibul wujood
Wo ajz wo taweel ruku aur wo sujood
Ta’at mein neest jaantey thay apni hast o bood
Taqat na chalne phirne ki thi haath paon mein
Gir gir ke sajde karte thay taghoon ki chaon mein
Farigh huwe namaaz se jab qibla o anaam
Aaye musafahe ko jawaanan e tashnakaam
Chume kise ne dast e Shahinshaah e khaas o aam
Aakhein miley kisi ne qadam par ba ehteraam
Kya dil thay kya sipaah e rasheed o sayeed thi
Ba ham mu’anaqe thay ke marne ki eid thi

Zaari thi ilteja thi munajaat thi idhar
Waan sar kashi o zulm o ta’addi o shor o shar
Kahta tha ibne saad ye jaa jaa ke nahr par
Ghatoon se hoshiyaar tarayi se ba khabar
Do roz se hai tashna dahani Hussain ko
Haan martey dam bhi deejiyo na pani Hussain ko

Baithey thay jaanemaaz pe Shahe falak sareer
Nagaah qareeb aake girey teen chaar teer
Dekha har ek ne mudhke suwe lashkar e kaseer
Abbas uthey tol ke shamsheer be nazeer
Parwane thay siraaj e imamat ke noor par
Rokey sipar huzoor karamat zahoor par

Akbar se mudhke kahne lage Sarware zamaan
Baandhe hai sarkashi pa kamar lashkare giraan
Tum jaake kahdo khaime mein ye ay pidar ki jaan
Bachon ko leke sahn se hatt jaaye bibiyaan
Ghaflat mein teer se koi bacha talaf na ho
Darr hai mujhe ke gardane Asghar hadaf na ho

Kahte thay ye pisar se Shahe aasmaan sareer
Fizza pukari deordhi se ay khalq ke ameer
Hai hai Ali ki betiyaan kis jaa ho goshgeer
Asghar ke gahware tak aakar girey hain teer
Garmi se saari raat ye ghut ghut ke roye hain
Bachey abhi tou sard hawa paake soye hain

Baqir kahin parha hai Sakina kahin hai ghash
Garmi ki fasl ye tab o taab aur ye atash
Ro ro ke sogaye hain sagheerane maahwash
Bachon ko leke yaan se kahan jaaye faqa kash
Ye kis khata pe teer piya pe barastey hain
Thandi hawa ke waastey bachey tarastey hain

Uthey ye shor sunke Imame falaq viqaar
Deordhi tak aaye dhaloon ko roke rafiq o yaar
Farmaya mudhke chaltey hain ab bahre kaarzaar
Kamre kasoo jihaad pe mangwao raahwaar
Dekhein fizaa behisht ki dil baagh baagh ho
Ummat ke kaam se kahin jaldi firaagh ho

Khaime mein jaake Shay ne ye dekha haram ka haal
Chahre tou faqq hai aur…
Zainab ki ye dua thi ke ay Rabbe Zuljalaal
Bach jaaye is fasaad se khairun nisa ka laal
Bano e naik naam ki khaiti hari rahey
Sanndal se maang bachon se godhi bhari rahey

Boley qareeb jaake Shahe aasmaan janaab
Muztar na ho dua’en hain tum sab ki mustajaab
Maghroor hain khata pe ye sab khanuma kharaab
Khud jaake mein dikhata hoon inko rahe sawaab
Mauqa nahi bahan abhi faryaad o aah ka
Laao tabarrukaat Risaalat panaah ka

Meraaj mei Rasool ne pahna tha jo libaas
Kashti mein laayi Zainab usey Shahe deen ke paas
Sar par rakha amamae Sardare haq shinaas
Pahni qabaye paak Rasoole falaq asaas
Bar mei durust o chust tha jama Rasool ka
Rumaal Fatima ka amama Rasool ka
Kapdoon se aarahi thi Rasoole zaman ki bu
Dulha ne sunghi hogi na aisi dulhan ki bu
Hyder ki Fatima ki Hussain o Hasan ki bu
Pheli huwi thi chaar taraf Panjetan ki bu
Lut ta tha itr waadi ambar sarisht mein
Gul jhumtey thay baagh mein Rizwaan behisht mein

Poshaak sab pahan chukey jis dam Shahe zaman
Lekar balaein bhai ki ronay lagi bahan
Kehti thi hai aaj nahi Hyder o Hasan
Amma kahan se laye tumhe ab ye be watan
Rukhsat hai ab Rasool ke yusuf jamaal ki
Sadqe gayi balein tou lo apne laal ki

Hathyaar idhar laga chuke Moula e khaas o aam
Tayyar udhar huwa alam e Sayyide anaam
Duaaein maangti gird thi saidaniyaan tamaam
Roti thi thaamey chobe alam khwahare imaam
Teghein kamar mei dosh pe shamley padey huwe
Zainab ke laal zere alam aa khade huwe

Gah maa ko dekhte thay kabhi jaanibe alam
Na’ra kabhi ye tha ke nisaar e Shahe umam
Karte thay dono bhai kabhi mashware baham
Aahista poochtey kabhi ma se wo zee hasham
Kya qasd hai Alliye wali ke nishaan ka
Amma kise milega alam nana jaan ka

In nanhe nanhe haathon se uthega ye alam
Chotey qadoon mein sabse sinoo mein sabho se kam
Nikle tanoo se sibte Nabi ke qadam pe dam
Ohda yahi hai bas yahi mansab yahi hasham
Rukhsat talab agar ho tou ye mera kaam hai
Maa sadqe jaaye aaj tou marne mein naam hai

Phir tum ko kya buzurg thay jo fakhre roz gaar
Zeba nahi hai wasf e izafi pe iftekhaar
Johar wo hai jo taegh karey aap aashkaar
Dikhlado aaj Hyder o Jafar ki kaarzaar
Tum kyon kaho ke laal Khuda ke wali ke hain
Faujein pukare khud ke nawase Ali ka hain
Ab jisko tum kaho usey dein fouj ka alam
Ki arz jo salaah Shahe aasmaan hasham
Farmaya jabse uthgayi Zahra e ba karam
Us din se tumko maa ki jagah jaantey hain hum
Malik ho tum buzurg koi ho ke khurd ho
Jisko kaho usiko ye ohda sipard ho

Boli bahan ke aap bhi tou lein kisi ka naam
Hai kis taraf tawajjo e Sardar o khaas o aam
Gar mujhse poochtay hain Shahe aasmaan maqaam
Quran ke baad hai tou Ali hi ka kuch kalaam
Shaukat mein qadd mein shaan mein humsar nahi koi
Abbas e naamdaar se behtar nahi koi

Aashiq ghulaam khadim e dereena jaan nisaar
Farzand bhai zeenate pehlu wafa shi’aar
Jarrar yaadgaar e pidar fakhre rozgaar
Rahat rasaa mutee o namudaar o naamdaar
Safdar hai sher dil hai bahadur hai naik hai
Bemisl saekdon mein hazaroon mein aik hai

Aakhon mein ashk bhar ke ye boley Shahe zaman
Haan thi yahi Ali ki wasiyyat bhi ay bahan
Acha bulayein aap kidhar hai wo saff shikan
Akbar chacha ke paas gaye sunke ye sukhan
Ki arz intezaar hai Shahe ghuyoor ko
Chaliye phuphi ne yaad kiya hai huzoor ko

Abbas aaye haathon ko jordhe huzoor e Shaah
Jao bahan ke paas ye bola wo deen panaah
Zainab wahin alam liye aayi ba izzo jaah
Boley nishaan ko leke Shahe arsh baargaah
Inki khushi wo hai jo riza Panjetan ki hai
Lo bhai lo alam ye inayat bahan ki hai

Munh karke suwe qabre Ali phir kiya khitaab
Zarre ko aaj kardiya Moula ne aaftaab
Ye arz khaaksaar ki hai Ya Abu Turaab
Aaqa ke aagey hoon mein shadath se bahre yaab
Sar tan se ibne Fatima ke ru baru girey
Shabbir ke paseene pe mera lahu girey

Ye sunke aayi zaojaye Abbas e naamwar
Shohar ki simpt pehle kinkhiyoon se ki nazar
Lee sibte Mustafa ki balayein ba chashme tar
Zainab ke gird phirke ye boli wo nauhagar
Faiz aap ka hai aur tasadduq Imaam ka
Izzat badi kaneez ki rutba ghulaam ka
Sar ko laga ke chathi se Zainab ne ye kaha
Tu apni maang kookh se thandi rakhe sada
Ki arz mujhse laakh kaneezein hoon tou fida
Bano e naamwar ko suhaagan rakhe Khuda
Bachey jiye taraqqiy e iqbal o jaah ho
Saaye mein aap ke Ali Akbar ka byaah ho

Naagaah aakey bali Sakina ne ye kaha
Kaisa hai ye hujoom kidhar hai mere chacha
Ohda alam ka unko mubarak karey Khuda
Logoon mujhe balayein tou lene do ek zara
Shaukat Khuda badhaye mere ammu jaan ki
Mein bhi tou dekhoon shaan Ali ke nishaan ki

Abbas muskura ke pukarey ka aao aao
Ammu nisaar pyaas se kya haal hai batao
Boli lipat ke wo ke meri mashq lete jaao
Ab tou alam mila tumhein pani mujhe pilaao
Tohfa na koi deejiye na in’aam deejiye
Qurbaan jaaon pani ka ek jaam deejiye

Nagaah badhey alam liye Abbas e ba wafa
Hazrat ne haath utha ke ye ik eik se kaha
Lo Alwida ay haram e paak e Mustafa
Subhe shab e firaaq hai pyaaron ko dekh lo
Sab mil ki doobte huwe taaron ko dekh lo

Shay ke qadam pe Zainab e zaar o hazeen giri
Bano pachaad kha ke pisar ke kareen giri
Kulsoom thar thara ke baruhe zameen giri
Baqir kahin gira tou Sakina kaheen giri
Ujda chaman har ek gul taza nikal gaya
Nikla alam ke ghar se janaza nikal gaya

Nagaah udhar se teer chale janibe Imaam
Ghoda bada ke aap ne hujjat bhi ki tamaam
Nikle idhar se Shay ke rafiqaan e tashnakaam
Be sar huwe paroon mein saraan e sipaah e shaam
Bala kabhi thi taegh kabhi zer e tang thi
Ek ek ki jang maalik e ashtar ki jang thi

Allah re Ali ke nawasoon ki kaarzaar
Dono ke nichey thay ke chalti thi zulfiqaar
Shana kata kisi ne jo roka sipar pe waar
Ginti thi zakhmiyoon ki na kishtoon ka tha shumaar
Utney sawaar qatl kiye thodi daer mein
Dono ke ghodey chup gaye laasho ke dhaer mein

Kis husn se Hasan ka jawane haseen lada
Ghir ghir ke surate asad e khushmgeen lada
Do din ki bhook pyaas mein wo mahjabeen lada
Sahra ulat ke yoon koi dulha nahi lada
Hamle dikha diye asad e kirdgaar ke
Maqtal mein sooye arzak e shaami ko maar ke

Chamki jo taegh Hazrate Abbas e arsh jaah
Roohul ameen pukarey ke Allah ki panaah
Dhaloon mein chup gaya pisar e saad ru siyaah
Kushtoon se band ho gayi aman o amaan ki raah
Jhapta jo sher shoakh mein darya ki saer ke
Le li tarayi taeghon ki moujoon ko phaer ke

Be sar huwe muwakkil e sar chashma e furaat
Hal chal mein misl e mouj safoon ko na tha sabaat
Darya mein girke fout huwe kitne bad sifaat
Goya habaab hogaye thay nuqta e hayaat
Abbas bhar ke mashk ko yoon tashnalab laday
Jis tarah naharwaan mein ameer e arab laday
Aafat thi harb o zarb e Ali Akbar e diler
Ghusse mein jhapte ser pe jaise garsina sher
Sab sar buland past zabardast sab thay zer
Jangal mein chaar simpt huwe zakhmiyoon ke dher
Siraan ke utre tan se jo thay rann chadhey huwe
Abbas se bhi jang mein kuch thay badhey huwe

Talwaarein barsi subh se nusfun nihaar tak
Hilti rahi zameen laraztey rahey falak
Kaampa kiye paroon ko simte huwe malak
Na’rey na phir wo thay na wo taeghon ki thi chamak
Dhaalon ka daur barchiyoon ka auj ho gaya
Hangaam e zuhr khatema e fauj ho gaya

Lashe sabho ke sibte Nabi khud uthake laye
Qatil kisi shaheed ka sar kaatne na paye
Dushman ko bhi na dost ki furqat Khuda dikhaye
Farmatey thay bichad gaye sab hum se hai haye
Itney pahaad gir padey jis par wo kham na ho
Gar sou baras jiyoon tou ye majma baham na ho

Kham hogaye ye daagh uthake Imame deen
Jhuk kar bana hilaal e Nabi ka mahe jabeen
Yoon dard mein tadap ke kiya nalaye hazeen
Hilne lage pahaad larazne lagi zameen
Aayi jigar ko taab na is waaredaat ki
Khushki mein lagi doobne kashti hayaat ki

Jab saff kashi ki dhoom huwi qatl gaah mein
Tasweer e marg phir gayi sab ki nigaah mein
Doobe rafiq e yusuf e deen haq ki chaah mein
Daftar khula ajal ka Hussaini sipaah mein
Jaanbaaziyaan dikhake jari naam kar gaye
Khaake shifa pa noor ke daane bikhar gaye
Jis waqt aamad aamade saif e Khuda huwi
Hal chal padi har ek ke dar pe qaza huwi
Nabood zindagi huwi hasti fana huwi
Himmat dilon ke jism se quwwat juda huwi
Labrez hokey umr ke saaghar chhalak gaye
Kaampi zameen pahaad jagah se sarak gaye

Maidaan mein jab riyaaze Hussaini khizaan huwa
Dunya se kaarwaan Shahe deen ka rawaan huwa
Darya e khoon mein gharq har ek naujawaan huwa
Hamshakle Mustafa bhi shaheedey sinaan huwa
Rotey thay Shaah lasho mein tanha khade huwe
Thay khaak par kaleje ke tukde padey huwe

Garmi ka roz jang ki kyon kar karoon bayaan
Darr hai ke misl e shama na jalne lage zabaan
Wo loo ke al hazar wo hararath ke al amaan
Rann ki zameen tou surkh thi aur zard aasmaan
Aab e khunukh ko khalq tarasti thi khaak par
Goya hawa se aag barasti thi khaak par

Wo loo wo aaftaab ki hiddat wo taab o tab
Kala tha rang dhoop se din ka misaal e shab
Khud nahr e alqama ke bhi sukhey huwe thay lab
Khaime jo thay hibaabon ke tap te thay sab ke sab
Udhti thi khaak khushk tha chashma hayaat ka
Khoula huwa tha dhoop se pani furaat ka

After exactly two months I have come back to my pictures of Delhi Chelum procession of the Safed Tazia, I had aborted posting the remaining pictures all in a 2 GB card..I thought I should complete this than post the Lucknow Ashura pictures.
Hazrat Abbas is the patron Saint of all the people that are endlessly troubled in Life, misery despair, they all invoke Hazrat Abbas , he comes forward to reduce the sufferings , as for him, those who love Imam Hussain his Akka Moulah, means a lot to him, this is a covenant of his Akka that he shoulders , reaching out from the various Dragahs in every city.
This is a spiritual phenomena , the power of eradicating pain, the power of regaining faith, yes this is the mastery of the name Hazrat Abbas.
He lives in his Alam, almost carrying the burden , the rare responsibilty , of protecting the Mashke Sakina with his Life..
Every drop of a tear that falls from a Shia eye becomes a part of Mashke Sakina.. because God wanted us to feel, the thirst that pervaded Karbala, because God wanted us feel Shabe Ashur , relive every single moment , he placed the Euphrates in our eyes, yes it is flowing from my eyes at this moment as it is flowing frm your eyes as you read me this is the power of Hazrat Abbas.. he opens up spring in our dry souls , now you know why we invoke the name of Hazrat Abbas, why we say Ya Abbas Al a Tash, Akka Moulah Hussain gave us Hazrat Abbas ..
The Imam said , everytime you call my warrior brother Abbas , you will find me close to him, than a liitle voice broke out of the Harem , saying Me too Me Too.. yes Bibi Sakina hangs as Mashke Sakina from the neck of Hazrat Abbas s Alam.She is not far too behind.
Earlier I thought I would copy something from a Shia site , that I have done so many times, so I copied Mir Anis..the rest are my words placed in my mouth by a love of Hazrat Abbas.
My Mothers family , her father Daroga Nabban Saab is related to Mir Anis.

link

Filed under: Uncategorized , Chehlum in Delhi 2007, firoze shakir poet blogger photographer, hazrat abbas, mir anees, moulah akka hussain

Laxmi On Roll

laxmi
needs fuel for her soul
at a petrol
station on roll
a heart of this
poet that she stole
pictorial piquancy
beyond control
a part crucified
to become a whole

Filed under: Uncategorized , firoze shakir poet blogger photographer, Hijdas and Eunuchs in Mumbai

The Omnisexual Hijda Queen

a glamorous glitzy
celebrity sex siren
in between
laxmi
the omnisexual hijda queen
a mask beneath a mask
mannequin
trick or treat
on halloween
her arrested
age beauty
just nineteen
her eyes
crystal ponds
of aquamarine
cover page
peoples magazine
calm cool
so serene
laxmi
a goddess
of a silver screen
in her aging
hijda community
she a diva evergreen
when idiots plagiarists
turned Xerox machine
bimbo headed journalist
turned mujaihidin
create a scene
she does try to intervene
on going war internecine
tabla tango tambourine
paleologus pillowtalk
unforseen
papal paroxysms
byzantine
deleted interviews
in quarantine
ass spitting fires
acetyline
trauma tracing
tragedy routine
blog spot
word press
blog bashing
cracking a
computer screen

Filed under: Uncategorized , bloggerspot, firoze shakir poet blogger photographer, Hijdas and Eunuchs in Mumbai

A Chadar for the Saint /Camera Woes

This was a single role that was lying in my camera bag, I had it processed scanned ..a few days back.
And it is a mixed medley, the picture is of flowers being showered on a chaddar that will be placed on the tomb of the Khwajah Garib Nawaz.
I had gone to town, with my wife , to meet Subhash Solanki , he sold some of my stuff , I feel really cut up as I have sold it all at peanuts, the Nikon F90X I had paid Rs 20000 second hand bought from Subash went for Rs 6000/ the Sigma lens AF 170/500 bought for Rs 22000 went for Rs 9000/ with the UV filter that had seperately cost me Rs 2500.
Such is the state of affairs in the camera buy and sell market, now only the Nikon D70 body is unsold but that too will find a buyer eventually.(It Is Dead)
Till the time being I shall use the more dependable Nikon F100, Sundar Vetkar another camera technician was offering a similar sparingly used body for Rs 15000/
The analogue camera bites the dust very badly.
I have 300 cameras twin redflex, box cameras, old American cameras, German cameras , Russian cameras a large collection of English made cameras.
I have the interchangeable twin reflex Mamiyas too..C330 C33 and C220.. all the lenses, including a prism viewer.
If any one is interested let me know or email me for details
photographerno1@indiatimes.com
Only serious minded mind you no spam shit..
I have the exactas, contaflex, robot,prakticas too..

We broke our fast in the cab a packet of chips water, , Mumbai is humid hot unbearable I am at my shop in my shorts and T.. its that bad..

This was an old post in the month of Ramadhan the heat and humidity has worsened, the Nikon D70 is lying in my camera cupboard ,I am dreading taking it to the technician..
I will when times turn good buy a Canon Digital SLR for starters.. Samiya got distintinction in her BMM exams 75%…most of her classmates flunked in photography so they are all cursing Mr Shreekanth Malushte , head of Photography , photoguru of yours truly and daughter too.

Filed under: Uncategorized , firoze shakir poet blogger photographer, samiya shakir

Cry My Beloved Country …

Picture Courtesy

Marc De Clercq to me
show details 11:50 pm (2 hours ago)

dear firoze,

here is a litle note from the Koothandavar Eunuch festival

all hijras have arrived and the festivities are going on.
The festival in the village is tomorrow . I hope all is well with you.

I might deceide to go home early because I am very sad to have to inform you that most of my camera equipmet wa stolen in Pondicherry early this week…so I can not do my project like this.

I am still looking into the matter but have not much hope

I know you will understand if i decide to go back home as without a 6×6 camera i feel lost.

sending you many greetings

marc

Dear Marc
Man I am ashamed .. what my country men have done to you , really this is very shocking I ask forgiveness on their behalf …The government should wake up to this perpetual problem that tourists are faced with each time they visit our country , I met so many guys that had lost their stuff at Ardh Kumbh..
I hope you dont mind I am including this crrespondance to my post at Word Press.
firoze shakir

Really it is distressing and sad , this is the worst crime, for a photographer like Marc who I met through Word Press, he wanted to know details abouth the Koothandavar Festival, he is known to Laxmi Narayan Tripathi too, I too was to meet him there, byt I could not due to my wounded hand and lack of funds.
I mean imagine you are looking foward to a shoot the Eunuch Festival Koovagam you reach Pondicherry your equipment gets stolen, that too in a foreign country., the State government should see that law and order during such International events is maintained , we go making hue and cry for kisses and lip locks.. when serious issues are not addressed at all…
I met French photographers in Lucknow shooting Ashura their cameras were stolen in Allahabad Ardh Kumbh..
I was looking forward to seeing Marc in Mumbai…
This is really sad, as a blogger , as a photographer above all mostly as an Indian , I hang my head in shame.
A greater shame for my beloved country too.

Filed under: Uncategorized , eunuchs, firoze shakir poet blogger photographer, koovagam/koothandavar, marc de clerq, photographerno1

The Rush of Faith

The Khwajah Garib Nawaz
greets his children
as they crowd
to bow at his gate
yes this is Ajmer Sharif
the true land of Love
no place for Hate
no borders of blood
on this spiritual slate
hindus muslims dalits
all faith
bound to the Khwajah
in human state
hum sab ek
hum sab nek
uparwalah humko dekh
yes much at stake
in a surrealsitic
world full of fake
give and take
keep awake
love of Khwajah
no heart break
no heart ache
shah ast hussain
that you partake
come to ajmer
seek forgiveness
for past mistake
divinity
like the Khawajah
in both the worlds
they do not make

This poem is dedicated to the Khadims of Ajmer Sharif.. and Peersaab Fahkru Miya Hujra No6 .

Filed under: Uncategorized , ajmer sharif, firoze shakir poet blogger photographer, ya garib nawaz

In the Beginning was the Word

In the Beginning
was the Word
as it occured
YA ALLAH
through the
Holy Prophet
we heard
Koranic Verses
spirtually
calligraphed
on our human hearts
transferred
Man
the beginning
of Faith
undettered
sciptured silence
notes on our soul
unlettered
from one generation
to another generation
genetically conferred
when in trouble
it was those scriptures
that we reffered

Filed under: Uncategorized , firoze shakir poet blogger photographer

786

786
In the Name of God, Most Gracious, Most Merciful

The total value of the letters of “Bismillah al-Rahman al-Rahim” according to one Arabic system of numerology is 786. There are two methods of arranging the letters of the Arabic alphabet. One method is the most common alphabetical order (used for most ordinary purposes), beginning with the letters Alif ا, ba ب, ta ت, tha ث etc. The other method is known as the Abjad numerals’ method or ordinal method. In this method the letters are arranged in the following order: Abjad, Hawwaz, Hutti, Kalaman, Sa’fas, Qarshat, Sakhaz, Zazagh; and each letter has an arithmetic value assigned to it from one to one thousand. (This arrangement was done, most probably in the 3rd century of Hijrah during the ‘Abbasid period, following the practices of speakers of other Semitic languages such as Aramaic, Hebrew, Syriac, Chaldean etc.)

link

a spiritual house
built with a single brick
786
no conjuring
hand of sleigh
or bag of tricks
any break down
786
an immediate quick fix
all gods goodness predicts
no sectarian hate
no sectarian violence
a single united
banner of Islam
no conflicts
allah ho akbar
a universal cry
of love hope
harmony
predicts

Filed under: Uncategorized , firoze shakir poet blogger photographer

A Prayer for Peace

with a few disgruntled
muslim misguiding
people who have become
spirtual vigilantes
a tazbi a skull cap
a religious goatee
showing by their
suicidal bombings
their hatredness
for all things Islamic
killing innocent people
innocent pilgrims at Karbala
the blood that flows
the limbless
the injured
the wounded
the dead
no this is not
Islamic
this is what is killing
Islam each day
every day
stitched sealed lips
of our religious heads
how can we be united
an Islamic Moon
divides our Idd
sectarian sacrilege
everywhere you see
faith in captivity
man cutting the branch
sitting on a tree
another man
prayer for peace
some more safety
death of a coward
killing himself
beneath the debris
dont shed tears
for humanity
a cry from
my beloved country

Filed under: Uncategorized , firoze shakir poet blogger photographer, islam, mullahs

Hijab To Veil or Not To Wail

The Hijab or the Burkha has been the cornerstone of a Muslim womens life, my mom wore it, her mom wore it, there was no issue no controversy, it was a garment almost adhering to a womans body like a second skin, my mother later switched over to the more convenient Iranian Chador.
My wife wears the Hijab , has always worn it , she has too, because of a rare skin disorder has to cover herself completely , from head to toe, or get terribly blistered those parts that are exposed to the sun, to such an extent she has stopped stepping out in the daytime.
I sometimes as a thinking man, albeit a Muslim man do not understand the hue and cry over the Hijab that takes such a pitch that it becomes annoyingly a bore.
People all jumping the bandwagon , those who are not Muslims, those who are Atheists and Agnostics.. beats me the cries of Burn the Hijab..
If women who wear the Hijab have no problem who are we to take up cudgels , specially when there are more important issues plaguing the Muslim community, the TV channels , the Barkha Roys , Shabana Azmis, Taslima Nasrins, the studio cosmetically brainless crowds , right at the back, finally the soldiers of God the Mullahs.
Muslim women have a raw deal, I talk about the backward classes even in cities, old conservative attitude, fear of modernity, of impending shame ,, incase the girl falls into a trap of filmi love , elopes , whatever, so they discontinue her studes get her married to the first guy who comes with a marriage proposal, in some families there are about 8 girls waiting in line for marriage, Miya Saab is still busy knocking his wife for the elusive male heir.
When all fails Miya Saab goes in for a second Nikah..most of the time..
I am talking of what I saw in Lucknow on my recent trips.. it exists in Mumbai too..
The Hijab is a choice left to the individual, but the most important issue is educating Miya Saab.. to change his sexual prioritized mind set..The Muslim male dominance , exists the Mullahs no it, but brush it away, the Muslim women has always had a bad deal, if I elaborate they will say it is Shiaspeak..
We have to give importance to education, His Holiness Prince Karim Agha Khan , a person whom I admire for his role in giving a boost to education, even at the recent conference in Hyderabad..
We have to start thinking all this as collective Muslims, what has killed us is not Terrorism or misplaced Jehad but our simmering ever boiling sectarian hate , yes as Muslims we love killing Muslims.. this must end .The Mullah s who are the masthead of our communities must get our chaotic house in order.This can be done for sake of Allah, his Messenger under the Banner of Universal Brotherhood.
Recently someone invited me to a Shia conference I declined , I am not adept , I am a street surviving man..I cannot quote scriptures, back my words with Koranic words, yes I have limited knowledge , but I have lived life , seen life , I think our children the inheritors of an Islamic covenant deserve a better deal…keeping our Faith intact we have to modernise our approach..we have to bring light as hope into a darkness that has become part of our despair.

Wikipedia touches on the Hijab..you can read it here

Filed under: Uncategorized , firoze shakir poet blogger photographer, hh prince karim agha khan, mullahs, women in islam

Scenes of Ajmer Sharif 2006 Ya Garib Nawaz

Healing Doctors of Ajmer

These are doctors who come from all walks of life to add succour to the pilgrims of Ajmer Sharif, they work without pay, round the clock, these too are the unsung heroes of Ajmer, and they touch the poor the rich.. even the medecines are free , the Dargah Trust under whose auspice they work.

Transfusion of Faith

The Hospital Never Sleeps
The hospital never sleeps and this is the scene outside it is late night ..at the Dargah in Ajmer

The Degh

This is the gigantic cauldron in which the devotees drop donationa photography is strictly prohibited here…

Faith and Devotion

Challas or Spiritual Requests

You tie the colored thread as a request and await the blessings of the Khawajah for the fulfillment of the same

Qawwali at a Hujra

Ya Garib Naawaz

Love Towards All Malice Towards None
Link

link
Dargah at Night

Filed under: Uncategorized , ajmer sharif, firoze shakir poet blogger photographer, photographerno1, Qawwali, Sufism in India related stuff, ya garib nawaz

Gemstones, Shehnai, Kaif Sufi Trance

Kapil Agarwals Treasure Trove

My lens would not do justice , to the wealth that lies openly as precious and semi precious stones at Kapil Agarwals stall , he is a loves to gather crowds, if I am there crowds start appearing, I look like a Bawa at the same time shooting pictures s so Un bawa like my rings, my attire.. I am like the Pied Piper of Hamelin..but more than me it is Kapil the crowds love, he keeps them happy entertained , this is part of his USP, he makes sales too , I can imagine the amount of stuff , guys pocket without paying , at Ajmer you get the greatest nimble fingers, pickpocketeers, thieves , this is Den of Thieves.. they all come in a way to seek the blessings of the Holy Saint.. for the thieves it is their livelihood… for the devotee who gets robbed .. professional hasard.. of an other persons charmed luck over his belongings..
I met a guy who lost his wallet , all his money , mobile , but they people of the dargah committee helped him out.. he will post back the money he borrowed from them, all this with the largest contigent of Police , cameras, what not…

The Gems
The little trays of stones the more preicious ones are kept hidden, in smal lboxes, yellow sapphres, blue sapphires, rubies , emeralds and diamonds too, as a lot of rich people come to shop at Chaar Yaar and tourists from neigbouring countries , stones is very big business… and people are in line to be conned …by other gemstone dealers who sell colored stone as the real thing..

Going into Kaif

This is the closest you can see of the Kaif like trance , he is physically seated here listening to the melody springing forth from the Shenai but , he is not on earth any more ,… sufiistic escape…he too sells gems and beaded necklaces on his hand.. we met the first time at Hussain tekri Jaorah

Shenai ..Tahir Jabalpuri

Shehnai
The shehnai (Persian: شهنای) is an aerophonic instrument which is thought to bring good luck, and as a result, is widely used in North India for marriages and processions.

This tube-like instrument gradually widens towards the lower end. It usually has between six and nine holes. It employs two sets of double reeds, making it a quadruple reed woodwind. By controlling the breath, various tunes can be played on it.

Ustad (Master) Bismillah Khan was a well-known shehnai player.

The shehnai was created by improving upon the pungi. There are two common legends of its origin. In the first, a Shah banned the playing of the pungi in his court due to its shrill sound. A barber, belonging to a family of musicians, improved on it and created the shehnai. As it was played in the Shah’s court and giving due reference to the ‘nai’ or barber, it was called shehnai.

In the other story, it was named after a player of the shehnai, called Saina.

Yet another theory is that the name derives from the combination of the Persian words shah, meaning king, and nai, meaning flute, to give the meaning “the king’s flute”.

Kaif Sufi Trance

The closest you can get and I shot this lying on the floor… I joined him and went into Kaif too..

Kaif 2

Kaif Sufi Trance 3

Sufi trance and this is not drug induced , it can be when a guy is smoking the chillum at the Dhuni and a Qawwali is going on, but here it was purely the melody and the funereal kind of music of the Shenai that sent this Malang into the nether world and I tried capture this transition on film..

Kaif Sufi Trance 4

Kaif Sufi Trance 5

Kaif Sufi Trance 6

link for further kaif

Filed under: Uncategorized , gemstones, kaif sufi trance, kapil agrawal, shehnai, Sufism in India related stuff

Shah ast Hussain, Badshah ast Hussain

I have always had a desire a burning desire to visit the Khwaja Moinuddin Chishtis tomb bow my head at his doorstep, this was simply because of the words engraved on the heart and soul of the Door .. the same words that are embedded in the spiritual consciousness of my living Soul…Shah Ast Hussain atop Buland Darwaza.
I did bow my head.. last year , this year over enthusiatic zealots have covered the words with huge banners so as to not give a different allusion to the devotees , , but I think what is on the Door cannot be hidden even after another 1400 years.. the Khwaja Saheb comes from the Family of Imams.. the words that changed my Life pulled me to Ajmer before even Peersaab Fakhru Miya of Hujra No 6 could come into my Life.. that Peersaab is open in his fondness of the Ahle Bait is not part of this discourse.. one thing I firmly believe that the Khwaja saheb is beyond the realm of Islamic sectarianism.. for him Humanity was the essence I think the Hindus rever him in a very special way.
I met an Ex Railways retired national hockey champ Mr Kapoor , who has never missed a single day at the Khwajahs Darbar for last 40 years.. rain, shine or floods.. this is the Unifier of Human Hearts , the Healer of intercultural wounds aptly called the Khwajah Garib Nawaz..

Shah ast Hussain,
Badshah ast Hussain,
Deen ast Hussain,
Deen e Panah ast Hussain,
Sar daad, na daad dast,
Dar dast e Yazid,
Haqa’a ke bina La’ilah ast Hussain.

translation
Hussain is the Master,
Hussain is the King,
Hussain is Faith,
Hussain is Refuge for the Faith,
He gave his head but not his hand in Yazeed’s hand
Verily Hussain is the foundation of La’Illah.

I have special feelings for Ajmer the heart of Ajmer Khwajah Garib Nawaz, or I would not be posting so many pictures, I do see feel differently from a normal picture taking photographer, my camera body carries the soul of a Poet.. the Khwajah guides me in the selection of the pictures I post.. I believe..
I have never visted the Inner Sanctum.. as I am speck of Sin.. some monuments start structuring as living entities in ones own Heart.. yes Karbala lies within me…
The picture is of the Shenai recital at Kapils stall at Char Yaar .
As mentioned earlier Kapil Agarwal .. a gemstone dealer from Jaipur is a great devotee of the Holy Saint lavishing his love , by holding qawwalis, or shehnai recitals all paying tribute to the Khwajah, his gemstones are all laid out openly , I am sure a lot of it gets filched, but for Kapil it is no big deal, he has a steady clientele does roaring business , does not con those new to gemstones, a great host offering hs clients rounds of tea and lassi.

The Bagpiper

Kapil Agrawal Gemstone King of Char Yaar

Kapil here draped in my shawl, the Shivas Eye that he gave me for Rs 50 last year I had it embedded in silver threaded with black Jerba stones , the yellow topaz like Quartz I bought from Bismillah gems Hyderabad.. it was quite epensive, the stones around it I got at a Kerba or Amber dealer at Pydhonie.. the silver stick is called Asa, the eunuchs who were watching all this , were very upset that after making Kapil wear all my jewellery I immediately took it back , which according to them was in bad taste.
Once you give something even as a gesture of goodwill , it does not belong to you anymore…

MSM Sucked By A Blog

You have a new comment about your poem: The Dead Poets Society

Good that you said it, dear friend of a poet!Listen up all you blind followers of the papal estate to what our friend Firoze Shakir, the poet who wants to have seen all that’’s happening with own knowing eyes and who shoots his sharp-witted words and verses through the focus zoomer of his camera’’s lens..It is historical facts retold, with a deserved inditecty, but clear summons for questioning one’’s own views & stances with regards to the ”others” anew, and, if possibe, unbiassed.erhard lang

My reply

thank you sir I feel for truth and I think people in high places must hold the word of law and justice for all men equally , the presnt pope is bringing back the dark ages of hate against mankind and that is how I see it , a couch potato born of a Blog Mother. an absconding MSM (MAIN STREAM MEDIA) father

Picture of the shenai player and the bagpiper at Chaar yaar..

Filed under: Uncategorized , ajmer sharif, kapil agrawal, peersaab fakhru miya, Sufism in India related stuff

My Ajmer Sojourn Continued

I shot 3 cards of 1 GB and about 6 rolls of negative I was three days in Ajmer guest of Peersaab Fakhru Miya Hujra No 6 for the Urus of Khwajs Moinuddin Chishti 1 st August .
This is day 2 night, the morning I spent hunting for Kapil Agarwal jeweller from Jaipur who has a stall at the Urus each year at Char Yaar, , this was merely to thank him for a few Shivas eye agate stones he had given me for Rs 50 each, I dont know why , these are expensive as they are in the shape of an eye ball huge , I bought all that he had..
I found out due to business rivalry the Muslim traders had seen that his alloted stall at Char Yaar was not given to him I was told he had set up shop at Solah Khamba near Dhai Djinn ka Jhopda, I set out in search of him in the morning and shooting pictures on the way, but everyone seems to have a special Hate for Kapil they sent me on a wild goose chase , I had not informed Peersaab or his household I went up the Taragadh path, these are my best pictures in another folder , wandered aimlessly barefeet over mountainous paths, hungry, no water, just the spirit of adventure maybe a inherent wish to see the Shrine of the Eunuch Saint and his bilogical son, this two way trip, criss cross paths must have been abourt 40km.. my feet are stll in a bad shape after a month and a half.
I have a deep mystical disposition, it made my task easier..
On my return I got a lift by a scooter to town, I was really tired weather beaten , in a narrow bylane heard a a voice calling out Photographerno1, Photographerno1, now this is one name that I am not known in Mumbai, I turned back there was this young guy I had never met in my life, he looked learned about 25 I think or younger , he introduced himself, he was a Bloggger too who had seen my post at Bloggerspot had corrected me on a comment about Peersaabs gyneaology.. I had thanked him with a post in return titled Syed Salman.. yes he was the very Syed Salman Chishty of the Khadim community, he was here in Ajmer from Saudi Arabia as his father had expired in Moharam.. ours was a very brief meeting , I shot a picture of the Holy Shrine that faces his house window.. we have kept in touch…
Kapil I met the same day, I think he always brings me luck in stones, I bought the Chinese turqoise , because of him, dirt cheap.. it is part of my collection.
In the night at Kapil Aggarwals shop that he got back at Char Yaar there was a Shenai recital the Hijdas were sitting I shot this picture went into Kaif as I did the Sufi whirring Dance..everyone touches a Hindu Kapil Aggarwals shop as he is touched by the Blessings of the Garib Nawaaz .. at Char Yaar.. he lavishes the money he earns on the Tomb.. of the Holy Saint .. yes he is a Sufi too.. Sufism surpasses the regionalism of relgion.. religious diversity…
Dont be surprised the kids are watching me … This was my Ajmer Trip 2006 ..copied from my homesite

UPDATE
I take random posts from my homesite , check if I had earlier posted them or not, than I post them at Word Press.The Hijdas flock to Kapils gemstone stall, he has a very influential clientele..I am lucky that he respects me , he has been a good influence all in all..this is my last post I shall .. call it a day.

Filed under: Uncategorized , ajmer sharif, dhai djinn ka jhopda, firoze shakir poet blogger photographer, gemstones, hijdas, peersaab fakhru miya, sufism, syed salman chishty

Athvi in Lucknow..Kazmain

Aathvi is the last segment of Moharam, early morning the following day Moharam officially ends, at Kazmain where all the action takes place its a sea of black clothes, remorse pain. Early morning Aathvi procession that starts from Shia Girls College Nakhas and called Chup Taazia headed by Dr Agha Baqar the founder his son Hassan, it has Tazias , Zuljana, Camels and it is called Amary or Caravan of the Imams family women, children the sickly lone surviving male heir of The Fourth Imam ,Zainul Abedin manacled barefeet and on the burning sands made to walk to Syria Damascus to the court of Yazid..a torturous walk, so this is replicated and each group in this Chup Tazzia procession recites a Noha or a dirge the most famous being Nasir Jahans Ghabrayegi Zainab,..At the Karbala at Kazmain these Tazias are buried after a rest of about 4 hours, say about 5 pm , as the mercury rises to 41 degrees C and almost all the mourners are barefeet bareheaded..the following night I have walked two places on fire I too am barefeet.This anjuman where I cut my forhead is of veterans and I was lucky to do my stuff in their midst, this group is called Bane Qamas Anjuman..I grabbed a long sword like daggar folks were quite surprised as I have never shed my blood in the city of my birth Lucknow..
I am a severe diabetic, so the bleeding after each stroke or while scourging would open the forhead wound.. I was twice given first aid which is a tourniquet, with the wound washed in rose water nothing else.. I was made to abort any further display of such emotion when the bleeding flow subsided..so in my last 4 years of shooting bloodied heads backs it was my turn I am shocked at my moderations.. to say the least….:

Update
I am since this evening searching posts at Word Press that have missing pictures, trying to retrieve them from my homesite, it quite a tough task, as when I posted at Word Press I changed the titles, I wish one could mass edit ,or see at a glance which posts had no pictures instead of checking post after post.
I think it took me more than 2 months to get my site in order ..Word Press will be one day become my main site as my homesite is a Coppermine Photo Gallery, no feeds nothing..
This picture really shocks me each time I see it, this was shot by Guddu a relative who uses a manual camera, he was using my Nikon D70 , he shot without any directions from me, pictures that are embedded on my soul, I will never ever visit Lucknow so this is my last Athvi pictures.
Whatever my views I still consider the Athvi segment in Lucknow the most unique event, you will never find this euphoric emotional packed moment anywhere in India.
The Lucknow Chup Tazia is one of its kind…this the procession that bids the Imam farewell , Alvida Ya Hussain Alvida , till next Moharam, but for the Shia everyday is Karbala.. amazingly it is of late that I was caught up with feelings of Shiasm , before this , rather before I took up Photography as a Hobby I was seeped in Alcoholism , a state of Mind and Soul that kept me away from Moharam for 17 years..I never participated in Moharam, never felt the pain of the Imams yes I was stone dead spiritually , a state bought out by my alcohol dependance , I keep bringing this personal problem into my body post, that Man is not born bad , his circumstances make him Bad …This hand wound which has become a perpetual reminder of my frailty , frailty of flesh, my spirit is far too strong..nothing will stop me from doing what I have to do…
Imagine Ashura pictures are hibernating in my cupboard, but it is tough working on them, I am not adept with my left hand , I type with one finger , so I keep it in abeyance…
The insulin dependance is another pain, the number of tablets twice a day.. a big price to pay for a fiercely independant person like me.
The pain on my hand will always remain.. it does not leave me at all.
I do not mix with people of my community, this is my personal prerogative.
I am in love with all religions , I cannot see just my religion and not see other religions growing around , this garden that we call India.
That I am a Shia is Gods gift of Life to me .
That I am a Man who respects Composite Culture is the most important aspect of the few years that I have spending here on this planet.
My site is a site that has everything for everybody…an Indian world shot through my camera lens, without bias, or hate, I took on the color of the event I shot, I became a Durga Devotee as I shot the Durga Visarjan, I was blessed pictorially , the same with the Lal Bagh Chya Raja, the Sufis, the Bandra Churches, the girl child became Samiya.. yes without damning my sexual orientation I became a Hijda shooting the Eunuchs..this for me is the lesson in Unlearning Photography taught by my Gurus, Mr Shreekanth Malushte , BW Jatkar , Dronacharya KG Maheshwari..
Big names in Photography, cult celebrity photographers , dont frighten me at all, what hurts is the unpoetic pedestrian pictures passed of as photo journalism in Indian Newspapers the biggest click fraud on the Indian newspaper reading public…I am not bitching, nor is it a case of grapes are sour.. this is Truth photo editors will rubbish away as rant…
Sunday Miday today had pictures of the Dedh Gali and the Kamatipura flea Market , pictures I have been shooting since 20 months.. I am happy that the Blogger too is an inspiration for photo stories, of course Main Stream Media wont give us such credit anyway… we are drift wood dead wood..we are opinion blogs…My Ass.
For this very reason I have over 100 fileson my homesite of Pitru Visarjan..a Hindu Feast celebrated by the North Indian Bhaiyya community..or the Chhat Puja Feast of the Bihari diaspora in Mumbai
I pay for the pictures I upload at my homesite about 7097 files in 58 albums .. so I coud delete say about 50 files add something else.. but one day upcoming new comers in photography will use us a text manual.. this is a fact you wont be able to rubbish at all.

firoze shakir.

Filed under: Uncategorized , firoze shakir poet blogger photographer, guddu, midday, My Self Portraits ...Mumbai Mirrored, photographerno1, photojournalists

Dread Head /Diana Dreadhead

Date: 10/25/2005 Time: 11:02 AM Visits: 184

you guys may get tired seeing so much of me i dont .
even if i try to rid myself of me, dr stevelivegivinsky is close at hand.. imagine being seen by a mirror and not being able to see the visage of the mirror but sometimes love ,like life is a gamble.. i dont have a loaded dice never needed it..
never gambled never depended on games of chance or lottery.
i remember ..when i was young the neighbouring grocer at strand cinema,hit the lottery and took a vow that he would feed the pigeons at gateway of india.. he does it till today.
the pigeons dont need lottery luck.
i am a homing pigeon..try to find home.. publicly lashing my soul on the cybernet square..for no fault of mine..
so i try not to visit to any more girl buzz…. would like someone to win a lottery i would pretend i am a a pigeon at the gateway of india.. an amazing coincidence as i was answering the comments of my parents my kid brother firdaus walked in,,he never comes to bandra.and he gave me the good news that his second wife zarah has given birth to a daughter today in kazhakistan,, his wife says she looks like
photographerno1..or is she the next photographerno1?..
will have to keep her away from master cosmos.. funky kid…
i am having lot of problem with my server IQARA.THE WORST IN SERVICE THIS SIDE OF TOWN.. AND IN CASE MY LOVE DIES
I WILL HOLD IQARA FOR THE IRREPARABLE LOSS..

well diana is back and getting rid of the mess in my hair,my dreadlocks have grown naturally no beeswax for me.
diana puts me to sleep she talks about her love for her guru..
kailasji baba of shrimali family.. loves him more than her common in house husband slash diana is going to jodhpur
today we again went for a stroll on the water front.
diana is pursuing trancedental love or kundalini..
she s off sex hates the way humans make babies..
says it is messy infiltratingly disgusting.
dianas bithday is on the 8th nov i have given her indian dress as a present..she will wear it to dance with her guru.. her supreme love the whole and soul of her life
my life or my love life has become like diana..

love is all in fire,and yet is everfreezing
love is much in winning,yet is more in leesing
love is ever sick,and yet is never dying
love is ever true and yet is ever lying
love doat in liking .and is mad in loathing
love indeed is anything ,yet indeed is nothing.
THOMAS MIDDELETON, BLURT

UPDATE
This is an old post , I have the greatest respect for Diana , the finest human being, she was writing a book, was hoping to get it published.I tried to meet her Kailash Guruji, but somehow it did not come to pass.
I am growing my hair all overagain, but I doubt I will go back to Dreads , its difficult to maintain, me cutting my forehead in Moharam would be a messy task…At the moment I am having a delicious Sabu Dana Kheer made sugarless but with a tablet of Equal.

Filed under: Uncategorized , firoze shakir poet blogger photographer, lady diana of dreads, My Self Portraits ...Mumbai Mirrored, photographerno1