The Ganesh festival started as a well-intentioned social movement, but has now turned into a game of political one-upmanship and misplaced pride. Now every suburb has a Raja with a hefty insurance cover and the size of every idol is a reflection of the corporator’s ego.

Sec 377 may have granted us the freedom to love, but we have not yet got freedom from a judgmental society. Yesterday’s verdict has struck down an archaic law, but it will take a lot more to stop India from using scornful terms like “dheela” and “bailya” for homosexuals.

We are born completely useless and need to be taught everything. Unless you’re Indian. Then the art of giving free advice is one of those skills that comes naturally to you. But why do Indians love giving advice so much? And how many really follow their own?

The famous Indian “Apne ko kya?” mentality is a delicate dance of voyeurism and indifference. We want to poke our noses everywhere, without taking on any responsibility. It’s why we love Bigg Boss, which allows us the luxury of looking into the lives of others, and shrug it off just as easily.

Independence is a tough thing to achieve – but freedom is risky. Freedom gives me the autonomy to express views in public places even against authority. Independence means I thank authority. Independence is my right to be heard. Freedom is my right to speak.

“Media line mein paisa hai kya?” That’s a question I often get asked. In India, picking a career and sticking to it is important. Because changing professions is a sign of fickleness and instability. But more than that, it sends your parents into a tizzy.

When I was growing up, milk packets would be washed and stuck on kitchen tiles for drying – for rotis to be packed in for lunch. After a little wear and tear, mom would fold the plastic packets and use them as a trivet. Long before recycling became hip, every middle-class household practiced it.

Fancy designations are having a moment in the sun: Social Media Tools Analyser. Chief Disruptor. Customer Delighter. Change Catalyst. (Of what, may I ask?) Who are these people and what do they really do?

“Good news kab de rahe ho?” is the question everyone begins to ask seconds after you get married. Family elders, perfect strangers on a train, even the building watchman. We don’t think of it as an invasion of privacy, because making babies is not considered a choice left to the couple.

In a time when even your phone doubles up as your camera, your assistant, a pastime, a distraction, a recorder, and an addiction, can people get away by doing just one job? Multi-tasking is the only thing worth pursuing. You can’t be a single-function watch anymore.

The FIFA World Cup presented a golden opportunity to bond with my new father-in-law. Or so I thought. For the first time in my life, I watched a match at a geriatric club, in the company of vegetarian seekh kebabs and betting oldies.

An arranged marriage is thoughtful curation more than a blind choice. People with similar customs, tradition, and upbringing are likely to make fewer compromises, fight lesser, and be happier. Truth is, marriages are not made in heaven, they are made in convenience.

I thought moving out would be about no deadlines, no curfews, and no rules. But it is about waiting for a plumber, paying rent and bills, waking up early to fill the water tank, and eating bland, self-cooked food. I didn’t do drugs, I did dishes.

To quit smoking doesn’t mean taking your lungs off a diet of toxic smoke. In many ways, it feels like ceasing to be who you are.

An Indian’s deepest patriotic feelings are unearthed by tourism. Take a desi tourist to Niagara Falls and he’ll say, “Arré, Bhedaghat gaye ho?”

It has been four years since some pretty catchy slogans dominated our political landscape. But slogans are so 2014, in 2019 the only chants filling the air will be “Modi, Modi.”

As the onslaught of English continues, many a local word has disappeared from our lingo. But there are three words that even the kale-consuming, chia-seed-loving hipsters can’t let go of – chape, chamdi, and chutiya.

India has been watching the Karnataka election closely because it serves as the barometer for what we’ll witness in the Lok Sabha elections of 2019. But what are our options, really? Because at this point – give or take a few personalities – the BJP and the Congress are increasingly beginning to look like the same party.

We live in a world where desire is on the rise and ambition on the wane. But how do we fulfil our desires if we hate on Mondays and glorify quitting to “find ourselves”?

At every immigration counter in India, you encounter a Grumpus Maximus – an officer who simply refuses to smile and works at a pace that could put even the world’s most frustrating bank teller to shame.

Maharashtrians are frugal, Marwaris are shaukeen. A Maharashtrian’s wedding budget is a Marwari’s lehenga budget. I married a Marwari and though our cultures take us in two different directions, we’ve found a place to make things work. It’s called midway.

Deluded do-gooders – people who make the right noises about the right trending things – are everywhere today. They sit in air-conditioned conference rooms, with a plastic Bisleri bottle on every table discussing global warming. They outrage about #EqualPay, but will choose to exploit the bai.

Marwaris are often called out for their miserly behaviour, but the kanjoosi of Kokanastha Brahmins has remained a secret. In a time of lavish weddings and four live counters, Kobra weddings will offer you four sabzis and a dal, food lesser than an average Punjabi lunch.

Being busy has become the new status symbol. We’re all straining to be part of the “frightfully busy, dead-on-our-feet, too-fucked-to-eat” movement. We don’t return calls and skip lunch breaks in a passive-aggressive display of this currency that is hot today.

While we publicly bemoan Harshad Mehta or Nirav Modi or Vijay Mallya getting away by scamming the country, a tiny part of us also says “wow”. Only in India can a person be met with respect for being a large-scale racketeer.

The R-Day parade looks the same every year, so how about some honest state tableaux this year? Maharashtra can be represented by a giant crane in the middle of a pot-holed road, while UP by an anti-Romeo squad.

Is the tiger the correct choice for our national animal? Maybe not. Because we are nothing like the tiger. A lazy panda is what we should’ve picked.

The attitude of most Maharashtrians can be summed up in two words: Ughich kashala? Literally translated, it means “needlessly why”? It is the reason why we Maharashtrians are diabolically lazy and spectacularly unambitious.

I’m a diehard lover of Old Monk, so much so that I visited its factory in Solan. And when the manager refused to give me miniature Old Monk bottles, I just slipped some in my pocket and ran.

2017 ignored the problems that are technically issues, but don’t quite qualify because not enough people feel strongly about them. It’s time we brought some of these issues to the fore in 2018: Vegetarian seekh kebab for instance and people who smell bad.

Vikas, BJP’s bestie, came into the limelight in 2014 ahead of the general elections. A nationwide hunt has now been launched to look for the missing Vikas.

Toto’s didn’t need gimmicks to sell us drinks. Toto’s didn’t need bands to sell us nostalgia.