Award ceremonies have long been criticised for being self-indulgent affairs, designed by the rich, white, and famous – for the rich, white, and famous. If the Emmys this year, defined by its snubs, were any evidence, there’s still a long way to go before that changes.

Bigg Boss participants refuse to perform tasks until Anup Jalota sings more than seven words without getting distracted. Sponsors too have threatened to pull out if singer doesn’t finish the bhajan.

Seriously, privileged Mumbai folks, can’t believe this needs to be reiterated every year: Please stop complaining about the visarjans in the city. Where do a couple of million people celebrate, when they don’t have the ability to reserve a table at an upscale restaurant and shell out ₹2,500 as entry fee? On the streets, obviously.

I’ve imposed a ban on attending nikaahs within the family. Being Muslim means that I can marry a cousin. Which means the potential of a “bhaijaan” to morph overnight into a prospective groom is 100 per cent and family weddings turn into a cringey, IRL version of Minder.

In a cruel and unusual case of “It Happens Only in India”, Shambhu Lal Regar, the man who committed murder on camera, has become a folk hero to jackasses across the country. Reports have emerged that he will now contest the Lok Sabha elections in Agra next year.

In 2018, we don’t introduce ourselves on the internet. Instead, we ration our emotions, perfect our personalities, and assemble our opinions so we can sell ourselves as a faultless commodity. We create a brand of ourselves and then spend all our energy in selling the best versions of ourselves to people on the internet.

Patanjali has created a new “miracle” product that will not only act as a cheaper substitute for petrol, but can also be used as gomutra, fairness cream, and lubricant.

The rules written all over your office walls or the eager instructions sent out by HR in emails matter little. What’s important are the unspoken rules framed by your colleagues: Never leave your lighter unattended, office chairs are not public property, and the AC remote can turn into a weapon of mass destruction.

The plot of Manmarziyaan is a story as old as time. It’s also a narrative that spans the breadth of mohallas across India where countless Rumis let go off their pehla pyaar and marry a stranger. Rumi is that woman discussed in hushed whispers in every small town.

The murder of Dalit rights activist Kedar Singh Jindan in Himachal’s Sirmaur district, is a sign that the state has callously looked over its casteism for decades. It’s a problem that gets subsumed by a narrative of glittery mountains and wonderment.