This may be the worst career move I’ll make and I will probably live to regret this, but I’m in a fiercely honest mood, and so on this day, to all the lovely people who read this blog, I hereby declare myself as mediocre.

And no, admitting this mediocrity isn’t my self-deprecatory defence mechanism kicking in. Neither is it a silent plea for others to assuage my perpetual self-doubt by praising me. Read more

I saw This is it last week. And my belief, that Michael Jackson is and will always be the greatest entertainer of all time, was reinforced. But sitting in that almost empty theatre, I was angry. Angry that not enough people in Bombay were watching this movie. Read more

I love candyfloss in a jar.
The stark red, green and black of carved watermelons on a pristine white plate.
Raspberry lip balm that makes my lips feel deliciously fruity.
I love elephantine fluffy coloured cushions strewn across a dark, oak-wood floor. Read more

There comes a time, in almost every self-aware person’s life, when they truly believe they’re a worthless piece of s***. This is my time.

A colleague who was curious about Ramzan thought I would be the best bet to answer his queries, considering I’m a Muslim. Read more

My name is Tasneem Nashrulla and I am a witch of Burbia. Since most of you’ll are not familiar with our world, let me take you through a day in my life and the dangers that befall us.

I usually get up in the Mourning, which is the most ill fated time of day for young Burban wizards and witches like me. Read more

I saw Free Willy when I was eight. I remember breaking into tears, when Willy the whale sprang to eternal freedom in slow-mo as Michael Jackson crooned ‘Will you be there’. So moved I was by this scene that I sobbed hysterically all the way from the theatre to my house, much to my parent’s dismay. That day, I made up my mind to save whales when I grow up. Well, I’m grown-up now, and I can’t save money, forget whales. My point being movies and books always make me realise how dull real life is. Read more

Power politics. In school, it was about who became the class monitor, who had the authority to tell the class to shut up, or who distributed the most expensive sweets on their birthday.

In college it was about who was the professor’s pet, who could get out of assignments by batting their eyelids, who dressed the best, or who was more popular with the opposite sex. Read more

Since the past few weeks, I’ve come to realise that women need a male best friend. By women, I mean me and assorted girlfriends I surveyed. I already have a girl best friend who fulfils all the prerequisites of a best friend: Read more

From vada pav we switched to McDonalds, from Fauji to Friends, from churidars to leggings and from teen patti to poker. And now we have finally Americanized the last great Indian frontier - the shaadi. The US has infiltrated the one thing that reveled in its absolute desiness - the big fat, Indian wedding - with its ethnic medley of dhols, mandaps, mehndi, sangeet. Why else would the sangeet be now paraphrased as ‘DJ night’? Read more

I’ve been visiting a couple of acting schools for a story, and I couldn’t help but thank the good lord that I was there as an observer and not a student. From rolling across floors and whispering sweet nothings to a chair to pretending to argue like a married couple and watching an imaginary tree grow, the wannabe actors were made to do things that made me squirm in my seat at the thought of having to do the same. Read more