Happiness after long is hyphenated by the other 
Takes the lustre away 

Life is meant to be a journey 

Often bears an albatross around the neck

The synonym for neoliberalism is powerlessness
All are interconnected in this food chain

Each subservient to the other layer

Individual rights are championed 

Collective decision making is reduced to a farce

Companies are the new empires

Knowledge is a hammer 

Enlightenment is commodified 

Consumption is Culture 

Relationships of note are passé

In an era where twitter followers can be bought 

We are all Data

Available to the highest bidder

Such is the ‘transaction cost’ 

Efficiency and Productivity are priceless

Social Darwinism is a close relative

Words are able to quell the pain

Well, not quite

Till a few voices are alive 

An Arundhati here, Naomi there

Monbiot in the middle 

A Vandana for the lecture circuit 

Some wine and cheese for washing down the capitalist/activist guilt

The powerless will be muted 

As the middle class are no better

Silenced with jobs taken away

Libel suits thrown at them

There is no better way than poverty to silence the rebel

Filters on Instagram/Facebook is aesthetic choice Architecture in a visual discourse, where Instagram is a near anthropological enterprise, with a key role in documenting everyday lived experiences, a field note of sorts.

The paradox of monetisation and perennial branding for the creative soul. The art declines when the focus is on the market. 
Cutting edge often means sleeping hungry. Many artists struggle to pay their bills even if they are the flavour of the season. And we talk about the creative economy.

More than just a mere imageLoaded with Meaning

Nostalgia saturates the senses

Where precious years were lived

Time is not my best friend 

When regional film song shoots happen overseas with bystanders overseas curiously observing the exotic nature, it exemplifies the global served for the vernacular audiences in small town India. Globalisation comes in weird shades.

In the act of translation, the literary translator lends his/her spirit to the text, many a time transforming the mechanics of the text to be accessible to a different cultural legacy. In that case, the translation is a ‘superior’ work of literary art, isn’t it? 
The base text is often rudimentary.

Checking privileges comes throughShattering Egos

Ittjehad

Not the easiest 

When life is a sledgehammer 

Not forgiving 

Privileges turns into informal 

Clandestine Social Security 

Reflecting is meditation 

Hardly any time in this turbocharged digital world

But undercutting privileges 

Is to be human

This act of scribbling 

Is a reflection of privileges too

We don’t miss places/spaces

Rather the opportunities with it

Coordinates are spaces

Geotagged or not 

Where lives are lived

The middle of the bell curve Is un aspirational territory 

Defines the tenant of the space 

As terrifically mundane 

But there is a precise, certain leeway space

No burden of expectations

The delicious prospect of mediocrity 

Excellence is coupled to the market 

Mediocrity is socially constructed 

The nuances are a lot more liberal