I’ve been berated for being glued to my phone instead of having “real conversations”. But I don’t fancy the phone as a coping mechanism when faced with awkward silences.
My old social media posts, especially those on Facebook often feel like a nightmarish journey back in time. But they are also clues to the way we absorb the world and learn to eventually, navigate it as adults.
The state’s multiple crises – a consumptive drug problem, farmer distress – can hardly be brushed under the carpet by hacking a film that purports to show its reality.
Fake news has become a scourge, publications are more beholden to advertisers than readers, and it’s more lucrative to cater to echo chambers than to actually inform and guide. The time has come to resume paying for news, irrespective of political leanings.
A phrase we often associate with our parents is the filmy and stereotypical “humaare zamaane mein”. “Humaare zamaane mein people had real values,” was a common lament. “ That generation thumped their chests and pitied the younger lot of gadabouts who didn’t seem to take anything seriously. We took all this with a heaping spoonful of salt and soldiered on. What a shame then, that we seem doomed to repeat this cycle with the next lot.
The longest strike in BEST’s history means my commute to work has taken place in a comfy air-conditioned cab, which shows up on demand. I hate it. Others may have switched to cabs like a kid takes to fries, but I remain stubbornly loyal to the big red bus.
The uncertainty that Covid-19 has brought has made most of us acknowledge our mortality. People in their 30s and 40s are rushing to draw up their wills. So why are Indians so wary of them? If you so much as mention one, you risk getting reprimanded, because, thoo thoo, who talks about death like that? Can we really afford to look away now?
The blatant objectification of adult film actress Nikita Bellucci by 12-year-olds begs the question: Do we need better parental controls and age restrictions for social media?
Being a footballer in India is an exercise in loss. It comes burdened with aggressive cynicism. And the U-17 World Cup might match up to the spectacle of the IPL, but I wonder what it will do for the sport.
Belief in something – anything – undergirds our lives. It anchors us to an idea, offers us an understanding of the world that goes beyond our immediate selves. As a person indifferent to ritual and ceremony, I discovered religion only when I moved to the west.