I laugh when my daughter tries to squeeze herself into a dress she has long outgrown, but it is similar to what I have been doing with the friends I’ve accumulated over time, holding on to those who deserve to be shelved.

After a nightmarish high school party, where I hobbled with every step, I abandoned high heels. Grounded in my flats, I have travelled through the ups and downs of life, comfortably and confidently. Some say stilettos are sexy, they add to your stature, but how can you feel glamorous or powerful when you are uncomfortable?

In times of war, people stockpile essentials in case they can’t get out of their homes. I have been stockpiling books for as long as I can remember. If I am asked why I need to buy more books when I have 30 unread ones in my bookshelf, I am speechless.

Dear Team Sabya, this cultural romance with repairing “broken” people is getting to be tiresome and trope-y now. You know what’s worse than having your heart split open? Unwelcome company rubbing manufactured empathy in your wounds.

Come June, you could be walking on the street and be felled by a falling tree in Mumbai. Or you could get stuck inside a jammed SUV and drown. The possibilities are increasing every year. Every year, the Mumbaikar is a little more fearful than fond of the monsoon.

Many Twitter intellectuals have condemned Zaira Wasim for citing her religious beliefs to exit Bollywood, while others have blamed her for making Muslims look regressive. But is ganging up against a teenager on social media progressive?

From being used to heckle Opposition MPs in Parliament to providing the soundtrack to a mounting number of public lynchings, sayings like Jai Shri Ram that once provided us comfort and united us, now create fear and sow division.

We are all set to lose the 83-year-old Worli Sea Face promenade to the Mumbai Coastal Road Project. The BMC promises that the boardwalk will be replaced with a ritzy seaside walkway, but for me, its quiet death would mark the end of an era.

I suffer from a condition called No-monia that renders me incapable of saying “no”. I’ve taken up more assignments than I can handle; I’ve paid bills for people who said they will pay me back when I know that they never will, just so that people don’t dislike me.

When my five-year-old niece confused India with South Africa while watching a World Cup match recently, I realised that none of us are born with a sense of nationalism. Instead, it is something that is taught to us, piece by piece, line by line, until it becomes a part of our identity.