There was once a little-known kid who grew up in a chawl, worked a couple of dead-end jobs, and rose to fame as Bollywood’s poster boy of the ’80s and ’90s. Jackie Shroff, was your everyday next-door mawali, a tapori through and through, which is why his appeal endures today.

About 17 years ago, Unbreakable, the first film in M Night Shyamalan’s Eastrail 177 trilogy, earned him serious Hollywood cred as an auteur – cred that he lost after the debacle of films like The Lady in the Water and The Last Airbender. Will Glass, the finale of the trilogy, that began with his best work, be his redemption?

New Year’s Resolutions serve no purpose other than signalling to your date that you’re a well-rounded individual. Here’s a handy translator’s list to call your friends out: When they say they’ve resolved to smoke less pot this year, it means that they want to experiment with MDMA.

Knowingly or unknowingly, most of us are uncomfortable acknowledging our failure, because as Freddie puts it, “The human condition requires a bit of anesthesia.” Bohemian Rhapsody speaks to everyone who’s ever struggled to face their own frailties.

Earth’s mightiest heroes wore black today, to mourn the passing of Stan Lee. No bright reds, greens, or yellows, for the man who had so lovingly coloured them for all these years, lies buried, surrounded by the ones he brought to life.

As Mumbai undergoes redevelopment, skyscrapers are taking the place of the city’s old chawls. For the people living in these 10x10 pigeonholes, it means moving into apartments with a toilet inside the house. It also means giving up the bonhomie and security that living in a chawl affords.

Back in the ’90s, the 10x10 room in the chawl was our kingdom, the place right near the fan, was the throne. Naturally the family’s most important member, usually the patriarch, had the luxury of placing himself right under the fan. Exceptions were made only when we children had our exams.

All Souls’ Day is pretty fun. Given the fact that the cemetery stayed open late on All Souls’ Day, as teenagers we’d take advantage of the darkness to visit graves and gather cigarettes and alcohol left behind by families for their late relatives. We’d find the occasional piece of fried fish left unsullied by the birds and have ourselves a good ol’ fashioned party.

You’ve tried all the tricks of the trade. You've played a wannabe Iron Man in Ra.One to yourself in Fan. Now you are playing a dwarf. What's next SRK?

Ganpati Bappa Morya! Prepare to be stuck in traffic behind a dancing procession, or being woken up from your sleep by a bhatji singing “Jai dev, Jai dev” into the mike for the next 10 days. This party’s just getting started.

What would happen if Bollywood remade Ryan Coogler’s Black Panther? Prince T’halasa would rule over Bondwana, a kingdom inaccessible to anyone with an Aadhaar card.

Ever since we discovered that our bodies were built for comfort rather than speed, us fat people have drawn out a mental list of places that we choose to avoid lest we inconvenience our flabby selves. Of late, this list is only growing longer.

The jolly Catholic drunk is a fun stereotype, a trope for your entertainment, the life of the party. What you almost never see is the hangover, the accompanying headache of which is shared by the entire family. I grew up in one such family.

Whether this is your first trip to Goa or you’re simply making your annual pilgrimage to Hilltop, you’ll be proud to know that the state now has its own taxi service, Goamiles. Here’s some hacks to ensure your experience is as smooth as you hoped that shot of feni would be.

In a secret game of truth or dare over vodka and caviar, Donald Trump shockingly decided to speak the truth, a first for him. Both men painted the town red, like the Russian government during a crackdown on non-violent protests.

We can continue to criticise the portrayal of women as mere pawns in the sacred games of men. But take a minute to look beyond the obvious. The women in the Netflix series aren’t mere cheerleaders – they’re controllers in their own right.

Are you the sort of person whose Instagram is full of pictures of the rain, a cup of chai, and mirchi lights? Is your favourite rain song “Dekho Baarish Ho Rahi Hai, It’s Raining” by Anu Malik? If you don’t take this monsoon special quiz, you’ll never find out!

Long before RGV Ki Aag and Guns and Thighs, Ram Gopal Varma gave us a masterful Mumbai gangster movie like Satya. Crime films need characters, not caricatures – they need real grime, not artistically recreated versions of it. They don’t make films like Satya anymore.

Welcome to India, IKEA. Let me also warn you that India is going to be no cakewalk. Selling DIY furniture in a land when memsahib calls carpenter ji to fix a screw is as tough as convincing us to stand in queue or follow traffic rules.

Food and sex go hand in hand. Making love on an empty stomach is like crossing the desert barefoot: You wouldn’t want to do it unless absolutely necessary. What we eat says a lot about who we are. Pick a five-course meal and we’ll tell you your favourite sexual position.

When it comes to the hallowed halls of fine dining, we Indians are our own enemy. We are hell bent on demanding nothing but biryani and butter chicken at a restaurant that serves a 12-course modern Indian tasting menu.

When Atul Kochhar was fired as the head chef of JW Marriott, Dubai, it became apparent that an insensitive tweet can indeed end your career. It’s a fascinating case for a country like India where hate speeches are sold by the dozen.

The Trump-Kim date was bound to be a success, since the two already have so much in common -- their aggressive stances on homosexuality, their inflated egos, and their affinity for offbeat hairdos.

Once a year, Bollywood’s best and brightest stars attend a feast for the ages. What went down at this year’s party, where Shah Rukh was absent, Sallu was present, and Bobby Deol made a return to action?

Anthony Bourdain was a proponent of the gratuitous sexualisation of food long before Instagram came along and added a hashtag before food porn. He extolled the virtues of food with a rhythmic metre that rose in crescendo before collapsing into a post-climactic crumpled heap, just like good sex.

Words are falling chama cham cham. Conversations I overheard this rainy season.

Switching cities can be a daunting task, especially when it comes to finding everyday comfort food. But culinary experimentation and acidity are two sides of the same coin. How do you flip a favourable outcome?

How did it come to pass that we fell asleep one day and woke up the next day in a world where Morgan Freeman has molested a bunch of women?

The Archbishop of Delhi has sent an open letter to churches in the capital, urging them to pray India’s “turbulent political atmosphere” away. Such a typical response: We Catholics are conditioned to pray through everything. We have a prayer for every occasion, even though not every occasion merits a prayer.

Don’t be a douchebag to your hungry homies fasting during Ramzan and pester them with stupid queries such as “Do you feel weak?”, or “Isn’t fasting old-fashioned?” or “Don’t you cheat-eat?”

Being Parsi is what Freddie Mercury did best. His entire existence is the embodiment of the quintessential Parsi doctrine of “khavanu, pivanu, majja ni life!”

Senior Indian Meteorological Department scientist Dr Sachme Hogakya laments that Google searches for IMD show results for IMDb first. Many think of the Met as hype men for the weather gods, but they are the country’s premier speculatory service whose accuracy lies somewhere between the NSE and Bejan Daruwalla.

My mum and I often squabble over God and prayers. And when she’s had enough she brandishes her secret weapon, “If you don’t like it, move out and pay rent.” This is where all arguments go to die.

My Aunt Astrid had an affair with a married man, who finally picked his wife over her. She showed me that carrying bitterness in your heart is counterproductive, especially when you know what you are in for once you agree to be the “other person” in a relationship.

Ranveer Singh, voicing the title character of Deadpool 2, is a step in the right direction for Hollywood movies dubbed in Hindi. Hopefully, we’re done with the days when James Bond would walk into a bar and order a Patiala Chivas.

How will Cambridge Analytica bounce back? Well they could hawk all the data they’ve mined. For instance, sell the details of every person sharing inspirational, get-rich-quick quotes to Nigerian princes for a profit, who in turn can sell the data to McDonald’s, so they can run targeted “Buy One Get Diabetes” offers on Facebook.

For ten years, ever since he first stepped into that crimson and gold suit, Iron Man’s been a role model. It’s not because he embodies my fantasy of being a genius playboy-billionaire-philanthropist in a high-tech suit who saves the day. It’s because of what Iron Man now symbolises – redemption through self-destruction.

Babas, our purveyors of punya, have adopted a more media-savvy approach to garnering followers, leaking videos of themselves dancing online. What if Asaram, Radhe Maa, and Gurmeet Ram Rahim had a prime-time reality dance show where they could shake that jadi buti?

An in-depth investigation by a secret organisation of intrepid journalists has uncovered the cholesterol-laden truth behind Kim Jong-Un’s visit to South Korea.

Avengers: Infinity War, Marvel’s biggest and bravest film, vehemently insists that you feel the full brunt of grief, anger, and disbelief like never before. In doing so, it also serves as a fine example of grief porn.

Lawrence is a former goalkeeper. No, not the kind who stops footballs from finding the net. Back in the ’90s and early noughties, he was the custodian of narcotics in Goa’s Ashwem. He attempted to control the flow of drugs on the streets.

Arthur, Albert, Alexander? Or Wayne? Manjeet? What should Prince William and Kate Middleton name Royal Baby No 3. We make some suggestions.

Taking inspiration from Hindutva thinker Abhishek Mishra, yet another man cancelled his Ola ride in Lucknow because the “driver was a Muslim”. He said, like Mishra, he too hoped to add esteemed ministers to his list of Twitter followers.

Cocaine certainly is one hell of a drug – if you aren’t Indian that is. Actually, barring weed, any narcotic is a disaster when it comes to Indians. If our use of alcohol is any indication, drugs and Indians just don’t mix well.

Bigg Boss Marathi reminds me of my life in a chawl – a bunch of Maharashtrians stuffed in one single dwelling with a common bathroom and kitchen. Host Mahesh Manjrekar is like the Ray-Byan-wearing kaka from another shakha and Usha Nadkarni is the judgemental aai of the House.

We seem to have become intolerant to the very foods that used to be household staples – butter, cheese, milk, and rotis! Has something truly changed, or as my mom would say, are we just trying new ways to push up our cool quotient?

A list of essentials that urban Indians need to survive First World problems and the Armageddon.

An ecosystem of lodge owners, taxi drivers, and idli sellers keep things running outside Mumbai’s Tata Memorial Hospital, one of the city’s largest cancer facilities.

What if we spoke in Budget lingo throughout the year? “Hey, didn’t I see you at the LTCG parade?” “Sharmaji ke bete ko fiscal math mein 99 mile, aur tume sirf 98?”

Mia Malkova, who debuts in RGV’s God, Sex and Truth, is the second adult entertainer to enter mainstream Bollywood. At least three other stars ought to make their way to Mumbai’s shores.

Once your resignation is accepted, you become like Neo from The Matrix. You can bend the rules, go drunk to work, or just stop showing up.

Section 377 is not just an anti-gay law. In the age of modern love, 377 is an anti-sex law that can land even hetrosexuals in trouble.

An intense state-wide protest led by the Maratha Kranti Morcha is underway and yet Mumbaikars remain unfazed. I believe the only way the city ends up caring about bandhs, is if Swiggy and Uber shut down due to the stir.

I grew up in a neighbourhood where children learn about sex the minute they learn to tie their shoelaces. The source of sex education in our lives was Gopal, the neighbourhood sex pest who had all the (wrong) answers to all the questions about coitus.

Can't seem to decide on a family vacay destination for New Year's? You can get a tip or two from Saifeena, Ranbir, and the entire Kapoor khandaan (or maybe not). We infiltrated their family WhatsApp group and learnt a few secrets.

Our good-governance Christmas tale begins with the young Jaideep, who works in a dead-end, nine-to-five IT job, and Meena, who doesn’t encounter angels but judgemental gynaecologists.

If you are taking off into that beautiful booze-and-vomit soaked land called Goa, you are likely to encounter the Neo-hippies, Tharki Bros, and the Hum Saath Saath Hain Suhaag-rat Squad.

Bondage using nylon sarees, some light spanking using a chappal, and a bit of butt play using the belan might sound like kinky sex acts to some. But in the confines of chawl living, it’s life as usual.

Star Wars isn’t about aliens fighting each other with fluorescent tube lights and spaceships blowing each other up. There’s nuance behind all that CGI, and themes that ensure The Last Jedi is a fine example of art imitating life.

New-age hipsters call it “fruit leather”, but we call it guava cheese. It’s the gooiest, stickiest, and chewiest of all Christmas treats.

My mother grew up a staunch feminist, unafraid of beating up molesters in the street. Until the day she got married, that is. And so, my father became the patriarchal, misogynistic kryptonite to her Superwoman.

If there ever was a perfect day to eat a pile of French toast drenched in honey, it’s Children’s Day. Here’s an ode to after-school snacks and holiday breakfasts

For the last 20 years, Shrivastav has been ushering folks who want to pleasure themselves to a humid, musty room in Mumbai’s Imperial Cinema. His job was simple: Fetching doctored reels, checking tickets, and sanitising the theatre with phenyl after the show.

It is unlikely that demonetisation will strike again. But just in case, be prepared for a nuclear winter. Step 1: Stock up on some good old dal.

Angadias are the nucleus of India’s rural and urban cash economy. You'd think the demonetisation drive would've rendered them jobless. But that doesn't seem to be the case.

Tarla Dalal’s recipe of stuffed peppers is a gaudy throwback to the ’80s and ’90s. On her death anniversary, here’s a slightly modified version of her most famous dish.

My grandmom’s Goan-style chicken, sweet corn, and vegetable soup is all you need in the winter.

We ought to make a fresh pitch for khichdi to be declared our national dish. It has the ability to do what politics and Nokia have failed to do over all these years: Actually connect people.

Don’t shed your sanskar this Halloween. Here are some special Indian themes to have yourself a desi spook fest.

Jewel Thief is classic whodunit, with a twist at the end that would put a creepy smile on M Night Shyamalan’s face while sending Agatha Christie into multiple raptures.

Communal loos are a big part of the daily grind in Mumbai’s chawls. These little cubicles are places where people sneak in to grab a smoke, watch porn, or scribble deep thoughts on the wall.

Feni is despised by urbane India with a hatred reserved for warm beer and cold tandoori rotis. But tell them it’s tequila and watch the shots flow. Perception is a bitch.

How many ingredients does it take to conjure up a silky smooth chocolate mousse? Just two. Presenting our two-ingredient chocolate mousse made with just chocolate and water. Here's a way to sate your sweet tooth in 95 rupees.

With Shravan finally over Damian gets Kaviraj Thadani of Kaavo Meat to rustle up some pork chops. Shravan toh sirf bahana hai, mote ko pork jo khaana hai.

Moin is a gangster from Mumbai’s Sewri neighbourhood, who worked for Chota Shakeel. The sharpshooter told us about his first hit and how people peed their pants when faced with a gun.

The Bandra drinking hole Yacht is now a resto-bar. Gentrification has reared its ugly head again, as with other dive bars like Jagdamba and Abhinandan, now truncated to JD's and AB's.

Bribery V 2.0 has come to town. Paying 100 bucks in cash is passé, babus now say, “Paytm karo.”

Human beings have come up with a plethora of terms to describe the simple act of pleasuring yourself. We scuttle about inventing a series of shorthand signs that all sound distinctly violent.

Gatari, the last day before the holy month of Shravan begins, is a day of indulgence. Eat meat and drink until you pass out in the gutter. That’s the mantra in Mumbai’s Maharashtrian pockets.

Every time my dad sent me to fetch cigarettes, I would buy Phantom cigarette candy from the paan tapri below my house. I felt like a big boy as I tapped out one and took a fake puff.

If someone owes you a debt and they won't make good, who you gonna call? The debt collectors.

Bikers, who take over the streets of Mumbai at midnight, are a nightmare for law-abiding motorists. But they say speed is an addiction, and the city needs to keep pace with them.

The prize for fasting is the feast. Now there are feasts, and there is iftar, a meal so elaborate that it gives other religions #feastinggoals.

The answer to the question you welterweight normies have always wanted to ask about the coital lives of us chubsters. We’re comfy AF, and we come with snacks.

A Richard Attenborough-esque observation of the Humans of Iftar, who populate the table of every Serious Salim during Ramzan.

Sometimes I lie awake at night thinking about my fondest beefy memories. During my chef days, I’ve tasted some fine A5 Wagyu and USDA Prime Grade 1. Those days are sadly behind us.

There’s a secret society of menu engineers, which influences your choice of food at a restaurant. It’s the reason you order the “fillet of locally caught red snapper with fairy dust and unicorn poop” instead of the usual fish and chips.

The idea of eating lamb testicles is enough to throw you into a moral and gastric conundrum. But not eating certain parts of animals leads to wastage of food on a scale you can’t imagine.

Take this food quiz and find out which Bahubali character will kill you.

The mythology of food in India is storied and the best fables revolve around pregnancy. Twins, some believe, are the result of eating twin bananas – fruit that has the power to impregnate a man.

After attending prayer meetings where people go into epileptic tizzies, I’ve come to the conclusion that a religious gathering is nothing more than a rave party for the faithful.

Working when you’re hungover is like masturbating under anaesthesia. So, use the time to leisurely check mails, and when I say check, I don’t mean proactively reply to them.

Why do most of us believe the only way to eat meat is to cook it until really well done? Where any semblance of a juicy, moist interior is viewed as “kacchapan”?

It’s a man’s world inside a professional kitchen, and in order to make a mark, a woman has to learn to become immune to misogyny and remain unfazed by the penis jokes.

Religion is no longer opium, its user no longer a chillum-smoking hippie. Religion is meth for the masses and its user a crackhead.

Just like there’s a Hallmark card for every occasion, there’s a specific type of whisky uncle you encounter in different situations.

The little blue pill ushered in a sex revolution 20 years ago. Today, Mumbai millennials continue to reap its benefits – helping middle-aged Americans boost their sex lives, over the phone.