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.

It’s been a week full of heartbreak for sports fans – India’s World Cup exit, the loss of New Zealand, and then Roger Federer. But amid all this frenzy, there is a soothing balm for those still mourning — and her name is Hima Das. The 19-year-old Assamese track star quietly picked up four gold medals in 15 days.

All first introductions with neighbourhood aunties and uncles start innocuously with them interrogating you. “Shaadi hui? Love ya arranged?” “No kids yet? Why?” “Beta, what’s your salary?” These annoying personal questions are thrown at you as casually as Jasprit Bumrah bowls the yorker.

Sheila Dikshit, the former Delhi CM who died on Saturday, attempted to change the city’s uncaring image by pulling Delhi’s toes across the line of modernism. She did everything in her power to reform its public image – from the Metro to the Commonwealth Games – with varying results.

The haphazardly-stitched together Big Little Lies finale became unrecognisable from the hundreds of other cable TV finales that believe in the performance of closure and not in the act of it. In under an hour, it reiterated what most of us were too afraid to admit: The charm of Big Little Lies was in it being a mini-series.

As the final season of Suits airs today, I can’t process the fact that this will be the last time I will see Harvey Specter sit down in his office with the finest scotch in hand, surrounded by signed basketballs, and an enviable LP collection. To paraphrase one of his evergreen catchphrases, anyone can do his job, but no one can be him.

No matter how painful it may seem, Mufasa’s death in The Lion King is actually essential viewing. It’s a coming-of-age moment, a rite of passage that must be undertaken to better understand this big, bad world.

As I near my 40th birthday, I have realised that I am neither the sort to go crazy with champagne, nor be forlorn and regretful. So I’m celebrating “The Year of Magical Doing”, where I prioritise writing letters, reading short stories, collecting recipes – basically, doing everything I loved as a kid.

When I was five, my friend’s grandfather forced himself on me. I called for help repeatedly but none came. In that moment, inside that MRI machine, I was that little girl whose almost lifeless body was on the floor, being violated.

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?