š Bhaiya, one Mark Ruffalo, please,
#424 | but make it Indian
The internet was abuzz over the grandiose union of Anant Ambani, scion of opulence, and Radhika Merchant, the epitome of sophistication, as they took the first steps towards matrimony. Their love story unfolded for us through the lavish embrace of Mukesh Ambani, patriarch of unparalleled wealth, who spared no expense to orchestrate a celebration befitting his illustrious lineage.
The extravagant festivities unfolded over three resplendent days, set against the picturesque backdrop of Gujarat, India. Each moment was meticulously crafted to outshine the last, ensuring that this majestic affair would be etched in the annals of history as a monumental celebration. Let's immerse ourselves in the opulence and splendour of this grand event, a true fairy tale coming to life in the modern age.
This is what I did for the first three years of my career: I sold my soul to Satan and talked about who wore what and when. I faked excitement and gushed over celebs and their escapades. Now, I earn a more intentional living, slowly paying the instalments to redeem my mortgaged soul.
We live in an unhinged world. Gaza is still being terrorised. Americans might try to Make America Great Again, while Indians are legit delulu asking, If not Modi, then who? And while everyone was distracted by a bawdy spectacle in Jamnagar, CAA became a reality.
Iām too old not to know that my favourite celebs have feet of clay. I'm not too old to be sad when those feet of clay walk me down the path of disappointment.
But there is hope - a small group of artists and supporters in other parts of the world have come together to respond to the attack on Palestine, and they're using their voices and influence to advocate for a ceasefire. We're at a point where it's difficult to trust the actions of the privileged, but any action that gives hope is essential, at least to me. And as feeble as it might be, spreading hope and awareness is my way of saving my soul.
In solidarity!