Often nightmarish, Shame can be best described as a story about neurosis and dysfunction.
The excitement of having solved a mystery can be said to only marginally exceed the frustration at encountering new questions.
Is our reality merely a game of chance? Is Schrödinger’s cat really alive and dead at the same time?
Einstein maintained that underneath the discernible laws of physics, there is a mysterious force that is responsible for the harmony that we see around us.
The famed tehzeeb of the erstwhile Nawabs still clings to Lucknow’s denizens like a burr.
Were it not for the fact that his wares were displayed a little too conspicuously, I would have easily mistaken him for an insurance salesman.
Our friendly religious epic, the Mahabharata, is replete with cases of charitable Brahmins impregnating obedient queens in order to oblige heirless kingdoms.
It is believed that he still adheres to his ritual every Sunday, waiting patiently for his own private moment of enlightenment.
Wong Kar-wai’s movies are all about people who are in limbo, waiting for the real story of their lives to begin.
Ralph Fiennes seems most at home when involved in a delicate balancing act between various facets of his personality.
In my country, summer is the season when possibility often trumps over probability.
