The internet made me think that with enough pig-headedness, I could crack depression like a mathematical equation. But after a few hundred articles, I'm more miserable than ever.
Stuck in a three-hour traffic snarl, and your concern seems to be a divorce taking place 4,446 miles away. That, my friend, is the spirit of a dying Mumbai.
A film about drug abuse in Punjab is objectionable. But it is okay to portray all Catholic Goans as drunks and all south Indians as lungi-wearing “Madrasis”.
The excessive hate that Coldplay gets has little to do with the band. It’s a victim of a trend – where a self-professed “discerning” listener disregards all pop music.
Where do studs get their horsepower from? A visit to an equine-breeding farm reveals insights into the secret world of these majestic steeds, born to run.