In 1996, when I heard about Eve Ensler’s The Vagina Monologues, I was 26 and vagina shy. But I was intrigued, fascinated. The book was big. Hmmm... these firangi vaginas sure do talk a lot, I thought. My desi vagina, it never uttered a word. But for the last two months, since it chanced upon two naughty advertisements — one for Clean and Dry Intimate Wash, which promises tazgi and white-white nikhar, and 18 Again, a vaginal rejuvenation and tightening gel — my vagina’s taken to vigorous head banging and loudly singing “I can’t get no (satisfaction)...”

Joker is a joke, a gag pulled on all manner of films about aliens — it pisses on films about humans searching for aliens, on green and brown aliens giving us darshan, on films about humans (read filmy Americans) being abducted by aliens, and on aliens themselves. Whoever thought that aliens were higher beings made of finer cerebral matter needs to see the last scene of Joker.

Censorship ka zamana hai bhai, har kadam phoonk-phoonk ke rakhna padta hai. Who knows kab, kahan, konsi baat kis ko hurt kar jaye. Chalo, I thought, the one place where the censor people won’t have struck would be religious shows on TV. So I settled down to watch the coolest Hindu bhagwanji, on Devon Ke Dev Mahadev (Life OK).

Censorship ka zamana hai bhai, har kadam phoonk-phoonk ke rakhna padta hai. Who knows kab, kahan, konsi baat kis ko hurt kar jaye. Chalo, I thought, the one place where the censor people won’t have struck would be religious shows on TV. So I settled down to watch the coolest Hindu bhagwanji, on Devon Ke Dev Mahadev (Life OK).

After watching editor-turned-director Bela Bhansali Sehgal’s debut film, I ponder: What is the point of Shirin Farhad Ki Toh Nikal Padi? Is it to tell a hatke love story, one involving two middle-aged Parsis trying to make out while trying to get married?

Life mein na I have two secret obsessions. One is toh losing weight, which basically means becoming the most athletic, svelte person on the earth, and the other is eating deep fried and sweet foods. Mostly, the first obsession remains a mind game, with one part of my brain telling me to exercise and the other part flashing images of bhujia, chole-bhature, and pastries.

How should one review a Salman Khan film? Should one simply ring the bell of the temple of Goddess Lakshmi, do shat-shat pranam to the god of box-office, and try to analyse what is contributing to his exceptional opening-day collections (Rs 32 crore-plus this time around)?

Each and every generation ke saamne life ke important-important choices hote hain. Meri generation ke saamne bhi the: Feminist banoon, ya commie? Amitabh Bachchan style mein duniya ko jala doon, ya Udaan ki Kalyani Singh jaise change initiate karoon, one duffer at a time? (Udaan mere zamane ka bahut hi badiya TV serial tha jisme Kalyani Singh ki mukhya bhumika nibhai thi Kavita Choudhary ne, who was also known as Lalitaji).

There are all sorts of films. Some films make us think, bother us, while others scare, annoy or thrill us. Some films make us want to dance, while others make us howl.

Once upon a time, on the beautiful island of Sri Lanka, there lived two titties and two titty-crazy men. Two hours later they all died.