In the middle of a pandemic, hope is the first thing you lose. But it will pass. And when you come out on the other side, you’ll be a different person. Pubs will be full of people, you’ll enjoy your cramped train commute, you will even like the colleague you botched about for three years. There will be no more surprises.

As a lifestyle journalist, I rub shoulders with the one per cent, without actually belonging in their preferred social circles. It’s a Jekyll-and-Hyde situation and I am constantly reminded of it by the Max Mara-wearing, eight-course-meal-eating folks I am surrounded by.

This isn’t the war against the virus – we are waging a war against stupidity, because this time we are as weak as our weakest link. We can wash our hands a zillion times, but if someone who got infected during the virus visarjan happened to sneeze on our lift button, there is no saving anyone. This is a war against people who have socially distanced themselves from their intellect.

If there ever was a case that was tailored to strengthen the position of those rooting for capital punishments for exceptionally cruel crimes, it would be the Dec 16 Delhi gang rape. As someone who experienced sexual violence at a young age, I wanted the rapists to die. Which is why, maybe the law should not give me or anyone the option to have our bloodlust satisfied.

You don’t need to win the lottery to quit your job. All you need to do is ask yourself if it’s worth giving up 10 percent of your salary to have 10 percent more free time. And congratulations, you are now ready to be a freelancer.

I ghostwrite “statements of purpose” for skill-deprived, high-on-pride brats so they can enroll in elite-level courses from premier institutions, and I have a question: How is it that so many of my clients have the mental aptitude to clear a number of exams, but not enough practical experiences to talk about themselves for a minute?

Women need public spaces – not just to occupy thoroughfare but even as private spaces. A space for quiet reflection, for celebration, for contemplation, for cooling down from a fight. Public spaces can help shape our most private selves. Just ask my mother.

As anti-CAA protests continue to rage on, at a time when everything seems, bleak, it’s the humour that’s kept many of us going. From tongue-in-cheek placards, stand-up routines, and internet memes, dissenters from the anti-CAA movement are finding a way to stay sane. For today, I recommend “Hum Kagaz (Filmy Version)” on Instagram.

The Republic Day Parade celebrates the Constitution, itself an expression of the spirit of our country and its diversity – of dances and songs, physical features, historical characters and incidents; the countless stories that make up this glorious republic.

I voted for the BJP in 2014 and 2019. I backed GST and supported the abrogation of Article 370. But I am no bhakt. I am a BJP voter who is opposed to the CAA.

As a child, I would often ask my grandfather what August 15, 1947 was like, only to get drab one liners like “Arre, kya jashn hue the” in return. It was only on December 19, 2019, on a trip to August Kranti Maidan in Mumbai, that I got my first taste of what I think the Independence movement must have felt like.

It wasn’t JNU students who went around smashing heads with iron rods, it was the masked thugs. It wasn’t JNU students who vandalised ambulances trying to enter the campus, it was the masked thugs. Regardless of your political ideology, JNU students were under attack. They aren’t the villains here.

Since the anti-CAA protests broke out in the country last month, battle lines have been drawn between friends, colleagues, neighbours, and acquaintances. But losing a few handshakes, or invitations to a get-together along the way, might just be a fair price to pay to preserve the social fabric of our country.

This year, instead of using New Year resolutions to crib about having to include more lauki in our diets, why don’t we do things a little differently: Can we instead all agree to be informed citizens, aware of our rights and responsibilities, and active participants in a functioning democracy?

Ever since 2013, my grandparents have been on a mission to Modi-fy me. A barrage of fake news greeted me on WhatsApp every morning, until it abruptly stopped. Shortly after the nationwide protests against CAA and NRC, my grandparents started to see reason. They started questioning the BJP’s policies.

All through last 10 days, the police crackdown, the imposition of Section 144, and internet shutdowns over the Citizenship Amendment Act saw many BJP loyalists turn. They have a common complaint – they were banking on Modi’s development agenda not divisive politics.

Deshbhakti is all the fierce hijabi and burkha-clad women who refuse to be sidelined or othered. Deshbhakti is the college students picking trash off of the roads where they protested, mere hours after the police opened fire and lathi-charged.

The silver lining to the dark cloud of the anti-CAA protests is that the Act went from being something that people had heard about but not fully understood, to the subject of a mass movement. Now, there is a sense that this idea is not fringe anymore. There’s a feeling that it could get better.

What degree of "Muslimness" are we comfortable with? Are you at ease with a Muslim woman wearing a hijab to a protest? What if someone shouts Allahu Akbar? Would you be comfortable asking someone in the crowd not to chant Jai Shri Ram?

I never ended up going for several stirs I could have been a part of, because of the unanswered questions. Was I expected to carry a sign? If a scuffle breaks out, can I leave or will that be deemed cowardly? To some, especially seasoned protestors, some of these questions might seem silly, but a little bit of information would help people who genuinely want to join the good fight.

When you spend two whole days looking at videos of bleeding students staggering around campus, it’s hard to be hopeful. But considering the spirit with which India is fighting back, maybe there is a silver lining to be seen here. No matter what the politicians say about the colour of anyone’s clothes, the protests are proof that democracy is still alive in this country.

In 2019, an entire Indian region has been stripped of autonomy and the definition of Indian citizenship has been redefined. Article 370, Citizenship (Amendment) Bill and NRC are the highlights of the year, as we hurtle toward an economic slowdown. Where does that leave the well-meaning Indian?

Decembers and I just don’t get along. While you’re giving thanks for all the silver linings of the year, I’m hypnotised by the dark clouds. Like a show reel of the lowest points of my year — an almost debilitating heartbreak, every missed opportunity, and my most acute failures — that’re playing on loop in my mind.

The 2010s have been the most significant decade of my life. I don’t recall any other time in my life when people, especially women, were so encouraged to accept themselves exactly as they were. Sure, the obsession with losing weight still abounded. But alongside the “Lose 50 pounds by Christmas” articles were pieces titled “Fitness at any size.”

This year, New Year’s Eve isn’t just the biggest party on the calendar, it’s also fodder for a heated debate – a debate that has driven a wedge between logic and emotion. Is January 1, 2020 the start of a new decade, or not?

Twelve years after I was first introduced to the bra, I decided to break up with it. It wasn’t a decision borne out of rebellion or one to support a socio-political movement. Some of us just like going braless.

The perception of a tortured artist is so glorified that it has become perversely aspirational. There is something highly alluring about the idea of deep sorrow and depression acting as a springboard for great pieces of art. The artists know it, and so does the market. But is this greatness worth it if you become an accomplice in your own exploitation?

Lore says that there’s a land where there are no bosses, only friends. A land where coffee and hot chocolate flow freely. In this holy land, the demon entity named Corporate Culture has been vanquished. It sounds a lot like a start-up, but don’t fall for it. Because like purple dinosaurs and superheroes, the “cool workplace” is just a figment of your imagination.

Welcome to the era where dystopia and our world overlap. An oxygen bar for a choking city might have felt like a far-flung science-fiction trope when we were kids, but today, it’s the reality in which we live.

Well into our 30s, my husband and I talk about money and “saving for the future” a lot these days. Though we have a decent monthly income, I resort to a stinginess that kills all spontaneous instincts. But is this mad chase for a “secure future” worth it? Where does it begin and when does it end?