Sunday, October 16, 2016

Augmented Realty

You must have read the mail about the new list of neologisms allegedly released by Washington Post? Those concocted words where you give an entirely more sensational meaning to an existing word by altering a single letter? Kind of like a Freudian typo.

Tuesday, April 14, 2015

We Are Voldemort

A few weeks ago, I was invited to the birthday party of a distant brother-in-law. His is an old aristocratic family and most of the guests would be from the erstwhile aristocracy too, so I stuck on a tie and wore black shoes. It was a cheerful party, with conversation and the juice of the barley flowing along easily without ever threatening to overflow the banks of propriety.

Friday, February 14, 2014

The World Today Is Pink

Truly, love conquers all. And after its often checkered and sometimes chaddied past, today the great love juggernaut chugs along mostly unhindered. Grandparents have gracefully given in, parents have ceased to be hostile, and even activists of orange hue have parked the placards and seem to be saying ‘Why bother?’

Tuesday, February 5, 2013

Why We Love Books

There’s this wonderfully pithy headline from an insightful, award-winning ad that says, “You can take a book anywhere, & vice versa.” And just in case you belong to the cynical set who don’t believe what advertising tells them, here’s something on a more intellectual note: the immortal wisdom of Groucho Marx, which tells us “Outside of a dog, a book is a man’s best friend. Inside of a dog, it’s too dark to read.”

Thursday, January 10, 2013

Anyone Know A Good Cellphone Story?

A friend of mine has recently written a novel set in the mid-1800s. Not a very exciting period to pitch your plot in, you’d think. But when you really go into the matter, you’ll see it’s a very smart move. That’s because ever since cellphones happened to humankind, it’s become impossible for a story set in contemporary times to have even a halfway-decent plot.

Friday, November 16, 2012

Flash Fest

Last week, as we sneaked surreptitiously from the watchful vigil of the sub-junior brigade to buy a small batch of smoke-emitting, noise-producing, child-angering firecrackers, it became clear that we’d have to shift over to some other means of zinging up our Diwali. A plentifully available alternative quickly presented itself.

In Delhi, Diwali is marked by the annual eruption of the Flash Party. And no, a Flash Party isn’t what you might think it to be, so kindly keep your raincoats buttoned (though going by the quantity of cleavage and jewellery you can see at these dos, your guess may not be far wrong).