Hello Charlie is a hysteric comedy about Charlie who must drive a scamster businessman on the run across the Diu border. The film is replete with rib-tickling performances by Aadar Jain, Jackie Shroff, and the crew, and witty punchlines.

I had no choice but to take the vaccine. Unfortunately, I don’t live in West Bengal, Assam, Tamil Nadu, or Kerala, where there will be no COVID-19 surge until elections are over. I didn’t even book tickets to the Kumbh, where one holy dip could take care of it all.

In Gujarat, Marwari women lead dual lives. They fast with their mothers-in-law and sip mojitos with their friends.

Music from the ’90s has an uncanny ability to bring people together. From the veterans of the cool jamming in some abandoned garage in Mumbai to seasoned hippies grooving around a bonfire in the remote Himalayas, the ’90s is a theme that finds resonance in the unlikeliest of the settings and with the unlikeliest of people.

Hello Charlie is a comedy where a billionaire tries to flee India disguised as a gorilla. If the trailer is anything to go by, this film is going to be a laugh riot.

Once you rise above the post of manager, why try to learn employee names and bother memorising them all? The corporate experience is all about being treated like shit, and the best way to do it is to refer to a human being with the same word you can use for a stapler.

The “alien Arabisation” versus Hindustani-Sufiani-Persian-essence debate on the correct way for Indians to pronounce the name of the holy month of Ramadan (Ramzan?) can be put to rest. I tell you exactly how. And it’s very easy.

Most biopics are pedestrian visual accounts of Wikipedia pages of their subjects. The Big Bull is no different. It unfolds as a series of events that have to be ticked off a list and has no insights to offer. Abhishek Bachchan’s lazy and uninspired performance makes matters worse.

College is supposed to be about new-found freedoms but here we are being mindful about every move we make. The hugs we showered on each other, after long breaks, have now become nods in the silent alleys of our campus. I hesitate to share my fried rice in exchange for fries with friends in the canteen even as we sit six-feet apart.

With no restaurants, pubs, and stand-up shows to enjoy, isolation is better spent away from the hustle and bustle that city-dwellers usually endure. In the past year, I’ve travelled more in India than ever before: a ski trip to Kashmir with friends who would normally rush to Europe, a couple of Goa holidays, and a family vacation to the Nilgiris.