Everyone remembers Manoj Kumar’s Clerk for that iconic scene where Ashok Kumar recovers from a heart attack thanks to a shot of nationalism. But Clerk, the story of a government servant who loves the system irrespective of all its ills, is like a beta stage for modern super patriots.

Independence is a tough thing to achieve – but freedom is risky. Freedom gives me the autonomy to express views in public places even against authority. Independence means I thank authority. Independence is my right to be heard. Freedom is my right to speak.

In the India of the distant future, will caste still matter? Will democracy as we know it persist, or be replaced by a newer form of government? Predicting the future is hard, even more so for a country like India.

For a film about sport, Gold treats hockey as a mere formality in service of an Akshay Kumar vanity project. It only exploits the star’s various talents: enthusiastic comic timing, the ability to arouse nationalistic pride, and romancing a much younger actress.

As a five-foot-nothing adult with a face that makes me look 14, I’ve been called everything from “chota recharge” to “aw baby”. Even though I work in a legitimate office, my baby face ensures that total strangers inquire about which school I go to.

The media, supposedly entrusted with the responsibility of being neutral and conducting informed debates, has resorted to fear and hate-mongering, and has demonised those who question the authorities. We saw the results of that in the attack on Umar Khalid yesterday.

We might have complained endlessly about school Independence Day celebrations back then. But it was the only phase in our lives where we truly understood what it meant to be a patriot, without the layers of nationalism and political stances that colour that notion as adults.

Mumbai, with its crumbling infrastructure and open gutters, has been ranked the third most liveable city in India. The truth is that Indian cities can be so infuriating at times that we’ve created our own special way of dealing with them – we pretend the problems don’t exist.

While my friends moved abroad to study at 18, I’m leaving only at 26. Uprooting my life at 26 makes me feel like a cross between two kinds of people: a child that’s practising cutting vegetables, and an entry-level yuppie sage.

We love food. There’s no two ways about it. So how does the average twenty-something in India find the patience and money to buy avocados, chia seeds, quinoa, and coconut milk to replace their staples of breads and spreads?