ASIAN FASHION CLOTHING

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I began shooting the beggar hijras on this road and I shot them for five or six years as I had my workspace at Water field Road Bandra .. and I befriended Lakshmi the beggar hijra guru Archana and others , I know them by face only , I would time and again meet them after moving out from here , I met them while going to Juhu in my ricksha ..

But now life travels a circle and after many years I am back on this side of the road and I meet the Turner Road beggar hijras , they are shocked to see me in my corporate clothes ,but they seem , confused as they all know I am a Malang and and for them a Malang is a man with a turban , long hair beads rings and barefeet , like I was before I sold the poetry of my soul to my new boss..
I was a boss myself and the transition from a boss to a slave has been dynamically seamless without any conflict , I need the job to pay back those who helped me financially in my time of need and when things were bad for me at one time .. and it was a very long depressing time making me suicidal but still keeping me alive..

'I shall overcome is what I said to myself and it is very tough path I have decided to walk with manacles on my feet now in fucked shoes ..

I blog at odd hours .. I have my dinner at 2 am as I crash the moment I reach home but not before I take my grand children in my arms ..Nerjis Asif Shakir a malang too 5 month old sustains the austerity of my barren soul trying to help me grow wings , she encourages me to fly..she nurtures my enslaved poetry of life..

I am changing and changing a wheel within a cosmic wheel and I shoot the streets , dressed as a corporate beggar poet..

I had a few lines of poetry but I did not want to insult the kindness of my new boss so I hardly use the name of the establishment where I work..

i am a expensive whore
i work at a high end fashion store
at bandra if you are intuitively
like me you know the score
manacled i walk through
'life's revolving doors
my period of penance
figuratively weeping at the core
i wear shoes my feet bleed more
diabetic dilemma dreamless i snore
buried above six feet i grow
from the floor sprouting doubting
blood sweat tears and gore
a new world a better tomorrow
i seek i explore my new changeover
my new corporate avatar
to the beggar hijras an eyesore
in the marketplace of life i beg and whore
my fucked destiny kisses another mans shores
i am a boat no sails but god leads
me to my new home without oars
as i bend my back I tell god
I am all yours ..

The anonymous artwork is Victorian-era woven hair. Apparently the Victorians often made these as memorials. It's human hair, braided and woven with beads and ribbons. It hangs in my home, right in front of the entryway.


Destiny
Ralph Waldo Emerson

That you are fair or wise is vain,
Or strong, or rich, or generous;
You must add the untaught strain
That sheds beauty on the rose.
There's a melody born of melody,
Which melts the world into a sea.
Toil could never compass it;
Art its height could never hit;
It came never out of wit;
But a music music-born
Well may Jove and Juno scorn.
Thy beauty, if it lack the fire
Which drives me mad with sweet desire,
What boots it? What the soldier's mail,
Unless he conquer and prevail?
What all the goods thy pride which lift,
If thou pine for another's gift?
Alas! that one is born in blight,
Victim of perpetual slight:
When thou lookest on his face,
Thy heart saith, 'Brother, go thy ways!
None shall ask thee what thou doest,
Or care a rush for what thou knowest,
Or listen when thou repliest,
Or remember where thou liest,
Or how thy supper is sodden;'
And another is born
To make the sun forgotten.
Surely he carries a talisman
Under his tongue;
Broad his shoulders are and strong;
And his eye is scornful,
Threatening and young.
I hold it of little matter
Whether your jewel be of pure water,
A rose diamond or a white,
But whether it dazzle me with light.
I care not how you are dressed,
In coarsest weeds or in the best;
Nor whether your name is base or brave:
Nor for the fashion of your behavior;
But whether you charm me,
Bid my bread feed and my fire warm me
And dress up Nature in your favor.
One thing is forever good;
That one thing is Success,--
Dear to the Eumenides,
And to all the heavenly brood.
Who bides at home, nor looks abroad,
Carries the eagles, and masters the sword.