The Silent Coup in Delhi
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The Post-Truth Capital The hour is late, but the lights never go out. Neon blinks over billboards of gods and gadgets. The air smells of ambition, of smoke and forgetting. Somewhere, a camera turns. Somewhere else, a man scrolls. He thinks he’s free —but the price of that illusion is too deep to measure. No one bans books, they just stop printing them. No one silences you—they flood you with noise. And the greatest censorship in the Capital today isn’t from outside. It comes from within. From the tired shrug of, “Chalta hain.” From the whispered, “Don’t post that.” From the unspoken rule that says, “Be careful. Be quiet.” A ghost walks barefoot through Delhi now—through data centres in Gurugram, CCTV-filled bazaars in Old Delhi, WhatsApp groups in Saket, sanitised newsrooms in Lutyens’. He watches a nation that once birthed civil disobedience now perfecting digital disobedience. This is not the India of slogans. This is the India behind the curtains. In the heart of the Republ...