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It's Sunday night and you're reading someone's newsletter instead of going out and partying with mildly annoying strangers? Jeez.

If you just opened this after it came in your mail a while ago, I wanna say thank you. Thank you for checking your email on a weekend night like you were half expecting a deposed Nigerian prince to hit you up and tell you that he wants to give away half his net worth and all you need to do to get it is break your mum’s FD and wire over most of it because he’s having “processing problems”. Seriously though, I’m really grateful for everyone who read last week’s newsletter, everyone who subscribed and everyone who reached out saying they liked reading it because it was a nice departure from the never-ending hamster wheel of sadness and disappointment that you guys call a life. I probably exaggerated that last part a bit, but truth is I’m really grateful for all the validation. In my own short experience, I’ve found online validation to be a great blowjob for the ego- it’s all fun and games for a grand total of five minutes and you actually feel like maybe the world isn’t that bleak after all- until it all comes crashing down and then it’s just an entire day of realizing how nothing matters and everything you do is ultimately hollow and devoid of meaning and maybe pichle semester thoda aur padh lena chahiye tha.

And on that incredibly cheerful note, let’s start!

I won’t lie, but at this point I’m kinda pushing my brain to write. So I take a screenshot of the first paragraph above and send it to a friend, because I think by now it’s been well established that ye validation ki talab mujhe ek din geraftaar karwayegi. She reads it and points out that the line about fellatio and ego sounds a lot like something Varun Dhawan said weeks ago in a Film Companion interview. I let out a sigh, and resist the urge to dropkick my laptop into the next room. All these intellectuals and free thinkers in the world to plagiarize from, and the first place my brain goes to is Varun Dhawan? As my mind begins to wonder what it means when my primary source of inspiration is the creative force behind Street Dancer 3D, I push these questions away and resign to my fate. Because maybe, we all are Varun Dhawan. Maybe deep down, all we really want to do is another October, another Badlapur. But then life comes along, like an out of touch film director well past his prime but still yearning for box office glory (DO NOT read as David Dhawan), and drags us kicking and screaming to do another Judwaa sequel. Maybe that’s the way things are supposed to be. Or maybe, just maybe, we can break the wheel. Go off somewhere into the Indian heartland to do an indie film with a filmmaker no one’s even heard of. But this is real life, and sometimes your dreams of walking down the red carpet at Cannes are sadly just going to end up being, dreams. So you squash them, and when fate comes knocking, you sober up, practice your fake smile as well as you can, and put all your non-existent emotional range into one sentence as you outstretch your hand and say, Yes Karan, I really loved the script. Can’t wait to start shooting for Jug Jug Jeeyo. Because at the end of the day, the carpet at the annual Filmfare Awards powered by Vimal Paan Masala is just as red as the one back in France, albeit for different reasons.

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Now that we’ve needlessly besmirched two generations of men from a leading Bollywood family just to drive home a really unnecessary metaphor about life, let’s talk about something else that’s hopefully a little less divisive- television!

Yesterday, I finished watching the second season of this show called The White Lotus. In case you’re unaware, it’s about a bunch of rich people being assholes to each other in a really posh hotel somewhere in southern Italy. Basically, ameeron ka Bigg Boss hai, but with better makeup and even better fake crying. I’ve been thinking about what makes the show so appealing, but I haven’t really been able to pinpoint a particular reason. Yeah, it’s incredibly well shot and the frames are beautiful, but that’s most online content at this point. I have a few thoughts about how we’re slowly being conditioned to conform to a specific kind of aesthetic when it comes to visual media, but at the end of the day it’s the kind of fun that audiences want, so I’m still divided over the futility of this debate. But what I think attracts people to the show, apart from the gorgeous locations and the even more gorgeous people acting in it (Aubrey Plaza agar tum ye padh rahi ho to main ye kehna chahta hu ki mujhe tumse beintehaa mohabbat hai), is this weird, almost voyeuristic aspect of watching the so-called elite fuck up things in the most pristine of settings. There’s a certain hilarity that ensues when you see these people so successful in life otherwise, struggling with basic human etiquettes and interactions. For example, imagine Mukesh Ambani struggling to prevent his swimming trunks from falling down in the changing room of some seven-star hotel in Hawaii just because he ended up ordering one size too large when packing for the trip. As he stands there with his loose morals and an even looser chaddi, trying to call his PA (I’m sure he travels with multiple ones) desperately asking him to come over with something more fitting, you have to admit that this would make for a very compelling watch. There’s something devilishly funny in thinking how maybe if buying the right sized swimming trunk was as easy as buying half the opposition’s MLAs, poor old Mukesh wouldn’t have found himself in this position. Think about it. Or don’t, because I’m not sure if a mental image of Asia’s second richest man in a Speedo that refuses to stay up is really the best thing for anyone on a Sunday night.

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Legend has it, that if you stand anywhere in Mumbai these days and talk about how it's getting colder, a Delhiite will magically appear and lecture you on what real winter is like. Because apparently, it’s not winter unless the temperature is figuratively less than the number of successful Arjun Kapoor movies, your fingers are so frozen that they’re about to fall off, and sitting seems like a long lost concept because it’s been ages since you’ve felt any semblance of sensation in your bum. Dekho maine bum bol diya, ab mera argument leakproof hai. Seriously though, if it’s been a while since someone laughed in your face (some of you might not be living with your parents, I’m not one to assume), I urge you to go to someone hailing from the northern parts of this country and tell them that yeah, 20°C does have you reaching for your sweatshirts and hoodies. It’s a humbling experience, really. It’s not our fault though. There’s times (read always) that I wish we had colder winters. I know it’s because of the maritime effect of the sea and yada yada because of that one time I paid attention in my 8th grade geography class, but one is still allowed to dream, right? Do you guys even know the pain of walking through aisles and aisles of poorly made H&M sweatshirts knowing that you will never be able to wear one without mentally preparing for the avalanche of sweat that will invariably follow?

And on that note, I think it’s safe to say this has been enough crying over first world problems for one edition, so I’m just gonna go ahead and wrap my stuff up. Kyunki agar rone-dhone ke bina content banta, toh aaj Prateek Kuhad Mercedes mein nahi ghum raha hota.

In summary, I think the year’s off to an okayish start, although by this point we all know that things can, or rather will, definitively get worse as we keep going. These are trying times, so don’t forget to take care of yourself. Have that extra paani puri (I refuse to bend to the demands of a tyrannical regime and call it golgappa), watch that extra episode, hug your friends for an extra five seconds, and just remember to relax. Because death is coming for all of us, and it makes no sense to spend all that time worrying about whether that one person liking your Instagram story means more than you think it does. And for all my Delhi acquaintances (I’ve been told to refrain from calling them friends for legal reasons), apne heater se thodi kam aashiqui jatao, May is closer than you think it is. And as usual, here’s a tweet to cap things off.

Have a great week!