The shitpile of gender stereotypes is higher than Antilia and stinkier than Dharavi. I have a sneaking suspicion that Chetan Bhagat’s book will add to its height and fragrance.
Prashant and Nisha Jain, parents of Maharashtra’s youngest paediatric cadaver organ donor, have become torchbearers of the cause. The gift of four lives is Darsh’s legacy.
With due respect to Muhammad Ali, it is unbelievable that he “deeply moved” so many on my friend list. These are the six kinds of social-media mourners you should watch out for.
With gaurakshaks determined to stem the trade of beef at any cost, beef sellers like Quasim walk a fine line every day. Once wholly legit businessmen, they have now joined the ranks of my hash dealer.
In these times of outrage, saying asinine things is the way to publicity. Donald Trump may get a presidency out of it. So what’s wrong if Sallu wants to get a hit out of it?
Bores are bores, but marathon bores are the worst. While your garden-variety bore can yammer on about anything in the world, the marathoner can only wax eloquent on his workout.
The FIFA World Cup is upon us and I fear the worst. During the last World Cup, we braced ourselves for “expert comments” from John Abraham. This time it’s going to be Anupam Kher, isn’t it?