The genealogists or teerth purohits of Haridwar have been record-keepers of family history for centuries now. I learnt a few things about my future walking through my past.
In the good ol’ days of dating, you could sass the guy simply with your amazing alcohol retention abilities. But now it’s no longer about you handling your malt like a pro. Can you handle the cheque like a pro?
Bad dates teach us lessons about our wants. By the simple logic of mathematics, the more you know about what you don’t want, the closer you are to figuring out what you want.
Halfway through cricket’s showpiece event, the grim reality is becoming clearer: the tournament, despite its magnitude, is as damp and predictable as the rains that are constantly lashing it. There are no last-over finishes, no upsets, just the top four teams cruising ahead.
Deluded do-gooders – people who make the right noises about the right trending things – are everywhere today. They sit in air-conditioned conference rooms, with a plastic Bisleri bottle on every table discussing global warming. They outrage about #EqualPay, but will choose to exploit the bai.
Liger fails on almost all fronts as one giant incoherent mess of a film, that can’t even do bare clichés right, let alone suggest it has the scent of originality.
So enraged was I at Badshah’s sacrilegious shade thrown at Eminem that I set out on a warpath against him. After the disdain, came a tinge of admiration.
It is a truth universally acknowledged that the loving relationship you share with your parivaar can be fraught with difficulties. Siblings are perpetually competing for the Most Annoying award and mom keeps trying to make tinda-aloo a thing. Fortunately, there is one saviour for our shared sanity — and its name is the Indian Premier League.
After attending prayer meetings where people go into epileptic tizzies, I’ve come to the conclusion that a religious gathering is nothing more than a rave party for the faithful.