A whir greets me as I enter the sleek gallery. The hum uncanned by a push on the glass door is generated by the audio-visual presentation constantly gardening the minds of the visitors to this retrospective exhibition of photography of Shahidul Alam, curated by Ina Puri. It reminds me of a thousand voices and the movements of their hands, that of the workers, migrants, domestic helps, artists, photographers, people singing and dancing in summer, clapping once their leaders breathe after a long speech, pressing the buttons to elect them, raising their hands in rage when the promises are reneged, toppling the thrones when nothing else matters in their existence.