Here’s what it’s like to be thirty-five, from my point of view. No kids, but a flat that we run with admirable orderliness. Instead of doing tequila shots, we do juice detoxes.
There’s very little point to watching Bhanu Pratap Singh's Bhoot, apart from developing a fondness for the time Dino Morea and Bipasha Basu used to be chasing ghosts.
Like Get Out and Pari, the Radhika Apte-starrer Ghoul underlines horror with context and uses it as a device to drive home a point about prejudice and gross injustice. In all three, humans are the hunters – not the hunted.
As with most of the modern world’s ills, it’s easy to blame Bollywood for a dramatic shift in our Holi aesthetic. But let’s be honest – the Holi look is all because of Instagram. And Rekha.
Every time a Chinese dignitary arrives in India, I attempt a protest against the occupation of Tibet. My last demonstration landed me in a smelly Goan marsh – for 20 hours.
In Delhi, we’ve never actually done anything. At best, we’ve pointed out the flaws and the issues plaguing us; at worst, we’ve exploited them. We were smug. Until the smog struck.
Between Jofra Archer's deadly bouncers at Ashes and the shock draw in the Premier League, it’s been a hell of a weekend for sports fans. But amid all this frenzy, there is a soothing balm — and her name is Hima Das. The 19-year-old Assamese track star has quietly picked up six gold medals in as many weeks.
Before reading Gabriel García Márquez, I had no idea that one was allowed to write like that. I have lived a different life because I’ve read his books.
A few days ago, I invested in a house of my own. I want a home where I don’t have to spend three days in a month lurking outside the kitchen because it’s “that time of the month”. I want a house where I can’t be removed from no matter what (or who) I do. Not by misogynist landlords or housing societies that randomly decide they don’t want “bachelors”.