Anarkali as a Metaphor: From Love to Data
Oh, dear Anarkali — the girl who pranced in Mughal courts, made even the powerful Salim clad in amour break into mushy poet and wore rebellion like the kohl in her eyes. She flowed like silk, spoke like poetry and dared emperors for a love that knows no boundaries. But let’s get real — she’d never last five minutes in the age of AI. Picture her in 2025, swiping left on men who post “sapiosexual” in their bios, evading unsolicited DMs from “investors” on LinkedIn, ChatGPT auto-generating love letters for those whose mans can’t spell “ghazal.” Anarkali would be canceled before her jhumkas could twinkle. Courtly Intrigue vs. Algorithmic Accuracy In a time and palace far, far away, Anarkali breezed through whispers and political mines with the elegance of a mehfil thumri. Today? The instant she's sliding into the DMs of Prince Salim, w ith a suggestive “Ishq hai toh dikhayiye, Meta’s AI warns "emotionally manipulative behaviour” and flags her as a potential bot. She's shad...