‘You can take your handbag off you know, it won’t run away,’ Sid says and points at my shoulder.

I quickly take the bag off my shoulder and hang it on the back of my chair.

‘So what happened at your paper? Everything all right I hope?’ Sid asks.

I tell him—about the bomb hoax, about Facebook, about the rumoured Saif-Kareena wedding—and as I talk to him, I feel that buoyant feeling growing in me.

This is the longest, uninterrupted conversation I’ve had with Sid—he hasn’t looked at his phone once, the TV’s not on, Dragon’s not interrupting and we’re not talking anything ‘necessary’. We’re just talking—like regular couples.

‘Phew! That sounds like you need a bit of a diversion from all of it. What do you think about a movie tomorrow? Anything you’d like to see?’ Sid asks.

I almost jump out of my chair and hug him then—he’s never asked me out for a movie before!

I look up at Sid, into his gorgeous brown eyes, I see him smile at me; and I decide that I won’t ask him about that night.

Sunday night has to be a mistake—I’m sure he didn’t mean to call out Lalita’s name; it was just a slip of the tongue. After all he was so drunk. I don’t have to worry at all. Perhaps the Bride is right after all—good sex makes all couples go out for movies. Perhaps I should do it oftener.

Vindaloo & Vibrators

Get them by the balls & their hearts & minds will follow

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Fake it for fuck’s sake

The underwired bra is the single, most evil invention meant to constantly denigrate the female body. It’s a constant reminder of that which you don’t have, those that were once pert and those that look better on other women.

Whether it was Adam’s rib or a primordial soup that led to the evolution of the human race and consequently its body, breasts were supposed to hang. Think about it. If breasts were meant to be in a constant state of perkiness, they would have come with a set of bones in them.

Over the ages and despite so-called women’s liberation, the ‘state of breast’ really hasn’t changed. If breasts were a matter of shame and covered up at certain points in history, today, women wear their insecurity on their chests. Irrespective of your cup size or your nationality, there’s always something wrong with your breasts.