Posts from the politics category.
There is a particular kind of silence that follows the collapse of something once believed to be eternal. Not the thunder of war, but the quieter, more dangerous hush — the kind that settles into abandoned halls, unsettled bloodlines, and inherited guilt. In The Shattered Empire, Atul Arjun Mohite chooses to begin there. Not at the height of glory, but in the aftermath of certainty.The thousand-ye...
I set out to study the enemy. And I found it deep within.Just kidding - a co-ordinated campaign to market a fundamentally different ideology and set of beliefs to people who neither asked for it nor wanted it. May offer some explanation of how we landed up in this quagmire. Of course the people take some blame for this - but just like Facebook meddling in places where they have no business meddlin...
I opened The United Nations Conspiracy late at night with the casual confidence of someone who believes they control their reading habits. One chapter, maybe two, I told myself. Somewhere between the first disappearance and the first coded warning, I glanced at the clock. Ten minutes had passed. It felt like an hour. My cup of warm water went cold beside me, unnoticed, as New York City stopped bei...
I keep thinking about how casually we take photographs now. A thumb tap. A half-smile. A moment frozen without intention. Kachri Kamble: Selfie That Rewrote Politics made me uneasy about that casualness. It reminded me that in the age of spectacle, innocence doesn’t need to be loud to be punished — it only needs to be visible.I read this book slowly, not because the narrative drags, but because it...
I remember closing this book one evening and realising the room around me felt louder than before. The fan hummed. A dog barked somewhere far away. And yet, after Desiccated Land, silence carried weight. This is not the silence of peace. It is the kind that lingers after you’ve heard too much truth at once and don’t know where to place it.David Lepeska comes to Kashmir not as a saviour, not as an ...
The night I began Operation SINDOOR, the house was quiet in that fragile way silence gets after the news has exhausted itself. The phone lay face down. Outside, a distant train horn stitched the darkness together. I didn’t open the book expecting drama. I opened it expecting clarity. What I didn’t expect was to feel as if I’d stepped into a low-lit operations room where time moves in half-seconds ...
There are books you read with a pen in hand, underlining arguments, marking dates. And then there are books you read with your shoulders slightly tense, jaw tight, phone face-down beside you, because the world it speaks of is not safely contained between covers. Toward Armageddon belongs to the second kind. I found myself reading it not at a desk, but late at night, the room quiet, news alerts del...
The fatigue arrived before the admiration did.Not physical tiredness — something deeper. The kind that settles in the shoulders when you realize how long power has been carried, argued over, bent, and bruised.I finished the book late at night. The house had already decided to sleep. I stayed back, sitting upright longer than needed, aware of a quiet inside me that hadn’t been there before. Not sti...
The funny thing about constitutions is that most of us don’t think about them until something shakes us. A protest on the street. A headline that burns our eyes. A conversation that leaves us unsettled long after the tea has gone cold. For me, it happened on a quiet Sunday morning, sunlight spilling across my table, newspapers spread out like a battlefield of opinions — and suddenly, I felt the we...
I didn’t ease into When I Hit You — it felt more like stumbling into a scene already in motion. The kind where the camera is trembling, the soundtrack has gone silent, and you realise you’ve entered a story that isn’t waiting for you to settle in. Friends had mentioned how intense it was, but nothing prepares you for the way this book grips your collar and says, “Stay. Watch.” A few pages in, I kn...
