Neoimperiosyncrasy by Vaibhav Upadhyay

 Anthem for the Silent Savior


If you think
They cannot save themselves,
Then save them
Without saying so.

And as you save them,
You may find
It was never them
That needed saving.
Without saying so.
-V.U

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

FOUR MORE HISTORICAL SHOTS.

Image
A Journey through Modern Historical Non-Fiction: Four Perspectives on India and the World. In the past four months, my intellectual journey has been profoundly enriched by four seminal works of historical non-fiction. Each book, in its own distinctive way, engages with the long arc of India’s history, culture, politics, and place in the global order. Though they differ in style, scope, and sensibility, together they form a powerful mosaic of India’s past, present, and future. Here is a reflection on each. 1 . The Golden Road by William Dalrymple William Dalrymple’s The Golden Road is an exemplary work of historical non-fiction, combining the rigour of archival research with the narrative elegance of a master storyteller. To borrow Maya Jasanoff’s apt description:   Dalrymple researches like a historian, thinks like an anthropologist, and writes like a novelist. In The Golden Road, Dalrymple explores the intricate web of connections that linked India to the wider world...
Read more

WE ARE SO GHIBIL-FIED.

MIYAZAKI, SATIRE, AND THE DEATH OF THE ARTIST. Congratulations, humanity! we have finally outdone ourselves. progress! That magnificent locomotive of human ingenuity, now barrelling toward a future where art is no longer a labor of love, but a neatly arranged sequence of algorithmic probabilities. What a relief! No more agonizing over composition, no more excruciating brushstrokes just cold, unfeeling computation assembling pixels in a manner that pleases the untrained eye . The very essence of efficiency, some might say. But efficiency has never been the bedfellow of beauty. For centuries, art was a dialogue between the creator and the medium, between the work and the world, between the audience and the ineffable. It was an act of defiance against time itself, a refusal to let fleeting moments slip into oblivion without first being rendered in pigment or prose. And now? Now it is a product of mathematical convenience, a lifeless simulacrum that mimics aesthetic grandeur while posses...
Read more

writing room conflict. (part: i forgot)

Dust of the Glorious. I marched where Ganga weeps through waste, Where tricolor dreams rot in haste, My blood boiled like Churchill’s scotch, But cooled in Delhi’s metro watch. I fought with pens in bazaars bare, Echoes of Tharoor in Lucknow air. Shakespeare groaned in chai-stall plays, While Dickens wrote in Bombay's haze. "My country right or wrong" felt thin, When sons of soil sold truth for gin. Plath wept beneath Kashmir’s white sheet, And Rashid sang from Siachen’s beat. written and published by: Vaibhav Vedhase Upadhyay.
Read more