Debeshi Gooptu is a former business journalist turned author. Her first book, The Gurgaon Diaries! was published in 2015. Her second book, Dragon Aunty Returns! was published by Juggernaut Books in January this year.
A Bengali woman meets a Punjabi mirchi in a swanky residential complex of Gurgaon. Mrinalini can't tolerate the boisterous Punjabi dragon. The only problem is, they become friends. How long will this...
Gone are the days when an invitation to a party filled the heart with much joy. But then, life is so very different when you are six and have an evening of birthday cake, games and take-home goodies t...
This dark, twisted and gripping tale of crime follows a 40-something investigator, Sohini Sen, whose near-dead career is somewhat resurrected when she is called in by the chief minister to investigate the high-profile murder of a leading industrialist's daughter in Kolkata.
I've just ended an affair and I'm extremely cut up about it. Breaking up is never easy to do and this particular fling took a toll on my emotional and physical well-being. I was cranky most of the time, looking at my phone furtively whenever I got a chance, and falling into the guilt trap every now and then. All of the usual symptoms. Until I decided that enough was enough. It was time to take a call.
Honestly speaking, I'm not surprised that international food chain Nando's has gotten into a bit of a sticky situation with their advertisements. Not only is the latest print ad (of "we don't mind if you touch our breasts, our buns, or even our thighs" fame) sexist, it is really, really tasteless. Much like the bird the eatery serves. But then again, I don't really expect all that much from a chain that has a charred piece of poultry as a mascot!
The Hulk was stirring next to me. I cast an uneasy glance towards where he sat, sprawled back in a leather recliner, hands hanging over the sides of the seat. The green goop on his face was trickling down his neck and his mouth was slightly open. Everywhere I looked, there was an abundance of brawn.
I always refer to her as the dhobi's daughter. I don't even know what her name is. I've never asked her. Come to think of it, we've never had a real conversation. All our communication, so far, has been through hand gestures and head movements. A nod, a wave, a pat on the back.
I don't want to shy away from talking about the birds and the bees and risk my daughter finding out when it's too late. I want to be able to put the information out there and help her make the right choices.
The feathery monsters have made my life a living hell and it would be really nice to see their tribe decrease. From taking over my balconies, defecating on my beautiful flowers and freshly laundered clothes to setting up cosy nests in air conditioner vents, they've done it all.