While initially Durgamati: The Myth seems like a straightforward horror movie, the story ends up going far beyond a traditional bhoot-bangla scarefest.
While scrolling through my timeline I noticed a change in Amazon Prime Video’s logo. The “me” from prime is missing. Is it a typo or trick? Am I missing something?
I stumbled upon my “break-up box” and hidden in it were a few love letters and all the memories of my high-school romance. I wondered if I should still keep the mementos? Or try to send them off on their way, “Mera kuch saaman” style?
Have South Indians really earned the right to claim the moral high ground when it comes to sexism? For starters, comparing stats on women’s rights in developed states to the rural cowbelt, is like lauding India for having a stronger record on human rights than Saudi Arabia.
Surprisingly, rather than celebrating Abhijit Banerjee’s achievement of winning the Nobel Prize for Economics, some have been deriding him for his “anti-national” credentials. What must sting these critics most is that Banerjee happens to be an alumnus of the most hated-on educational institute in right-wing intellectual circles: Jawaharlal Nehru University.
Growing up I was enamoured by the romance-at-the-tarmac trope – Love Actually and Jaane Tu… Ya Jaane Na. But the chance of someone dodging security guards for that one passionate kiss are as slim as your Jet Airways flight taking off these days. Yet each time I’m at a terminal, the dormant romantic in me wakes up.
There are a few occasions when I examine my faith. A faith kept alive by tenuous connections like my relationship with my grandfather, the last of the Sikhs who came from Pakistan and created lives out of nothing.