
Consume With Care
World Environment Day has come and gone, and I say good riddance. For those concerned with the ecological health of the planet, the day brought little reason to cheer. The theme of this year’s celebration, organised by the UN, was

World Environment Day has come and gone, and I say good riddance. For those concerned with the ecological health of the planet, the day brought little reason to cheer. The theme of this year’s celebration, organised by the UN, was

The Lalitgate scandal badly embroiled the BJP government in a political controversy and rattled its legendary “56-inch chest”, which did not seem strong enough to handle the heat of the controversy. The ghost of Lalit Modi now haunts Vasundhara Raje, the

It seems Radhika Pandit is a star, one of those top heroine types in the Kannada film industry, tackily called Sandalwood. (Karnataka, née Mysore State, has sandalwood trees in abundance, an excuse enough to lend itself to an industry that

My eyes closed for a moment and suddenly everything seemed slower. I sat down trying to make sense of it: things were more tactile, filled with more sensuality, absolute feeling—I knew even as it unfolded that it was a dream. Was it?

Like art and literature, cinema is a reflection of life and society. It’s little wonder, then, that Bollywood films over the years have reflected the state of our politics. The Indian view of Pakistan has changed over the years since

In the open nocturnal summer terraces that would run into each other across the many terraces of close-knit neighbourhoods in the small-town mohallas of western UP, surrounded by mango orchards, peepal and neem trees and water pumps, and in the

“Hum apne ghar mein khoobsurat parde lagwayenge aur main yeh jaanne ki koshish nahin karoonga ki is parde ki doosri taraf duniya mein kya ho raha hai. Hamare khoobsurat ghar ke baahar log marte hain to marte rahein! Smuggleron

If Bollywood had its own chic version of Marx lurking behind all the glitz, he would have climbed a roof by now and proclaimed in a loud shrill voice that the spectre of feminism is haunting his abode. The Indian

In the spring of 2006, I was taking the Amtrak train from Washington DC to New York. It was a full train, so sitting by oneself was not an option. Luckily, the passenger next to me turned out to be

“Ye shall make you no idols, neither shall ye rear you up a graven image, or a pillar, neither shall ye place any figured stone in your land, to bow down unto it: for I am the Lord your God.”