Maisha Islam Monamee

Cinema has always been a mirror, but particularly in the last decade, it has started holding that mirror at a rather flattering angle. The reflection now has a bit more nationalism, a bit less nuance, and sometimes, an entire political manifesto playing in the background. The trailer for "The Taj Story", which asks whether the Taj Mahal might once have been a temple, does not merely invite curiosity; it stages curiosity as corrective history. It is the newest actor in a growing ensemble of movies that treat doubt like doctrine and cinema like a courthouse. And while we once saw filmmakers wrestle with moral ambiguity; in present times, the only ambiguity lies in whether you are watching entertainment or an election campaign.

Rom-coms tell us that even in the chaos of real life, some things are beautifully predictable. The same misunderstandings, the same meet-cutes, the same last-minute airport chases somehow never get old.

They say you cannot see the world in a day, but they clearly have not been to the British Museum. After five hours of exploration, I came out questioning three things: time, empire, and how exactly one steals a whole moment without anyone noticing.

For Gen Z students who have grown up navigating both online classes and algorithmic chaos, learning smarter isn’t about working harder or longer. It is about using the right tools with the right mindset.

Despite flaws, this is a milestone in the reluctant evolution of Bollywood's conscience

The new season begins back in the mortal world, where Arisu and Usagi are living as a married couple, supposedly free of the horrors that nearly consumed them. Their peace, however, does not last. Usagi, still haunted by her father’s absence, becomes vulnerable to the manipulations of Ryuji Matsuyama, a researcher obsessed with proving Borderland’s existence.

Plenty of shows and movies capture the exact same feelings that hooked us on TSITP—so consider this a fan-to-fan guide to what to watch next. Each of these picks delivers a flavor of TSITP, whether it’s the romance, the setting, or the emotional gut punches we secretly live for.

What remains fascinating is how the aesthetics of Durga Puja on screen often mirror the aesthetics of cinema itself. Both are public spectacles designed to overwhelm the senses, to invite immersion and disbelief. A pandal is not unlike a film set, meticulously crafted, temporary, and destined to dissolve after a few days.

"The Ba***ds of Bollywood" arrives like a party that knows it is both entertaining and dangerous to attend. It is gleefully loud, crammed with cameos and inside jokes, and built out of the familiar ingredients of commercial Hindi cinema. At the same time, it repeatedly lets loose sharp, uncomfortable flashes that refuse to be smoothed over. Watch it as a satire and you will laugh often. Watch it as an indictment and you will feel the edges. The series wants to do both things at once, and that ambition is its central thrill and also its chief flaw.

At its heart, the film is a story of Krish Kapoor, a volatile and ambitious young musician played by Ahaan Panday, and Vaani Batra, a lyricist played by Aneet Padda, who together discover not only the soaring highs of romance but also the fragility of time when Vaani is diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s. What begins as a meeting of music and words gradually turns into a meditation on the meaning of love when memory itself starts slipping away.

I remember the first time I heard about "The Summer I Turned Pretty". It was in a group chat with my friends, where two of them were fighting as Team Conrad vs Team Jeremiah. "You have to watch it," they said and I was skeptical at first, dismissing it as just another teen drama. But when I watched the first episode, something clicked. I know it is super embarrassing to be obsessing over a teen drama as a twenty-something year old but this show really had its sweet way of pulling me in. I never thought a show about a teenage love triangle could make me feel like a teenager again, but here I was, waiting eagerly for a new episode each Wednesday.

The sheer volume of administrative and creative tasks when applying to multiple jobs can feel overwhelming, and that is where AI can genuinely become a personal productivity partner. When used thoughtfully, AI can save time, reduce errors, and help you present your best self to potential employers.

“Metro… In Dino,” currently trending at No 4 on Netflix, plunges viewers into the messy, unpredictable, and deeply human world of modern love. Director Anurag Basu returns with his signature intertwining narratives, tracing the lives of four couples across Mumbai, Bengaluru, Delhi, Kolkata, and Pune as they wrestle with desire, loyalty, heartbreak, and self-discovery. At its core, the film probes the nuances of contemporary relationships, exploring the spaces between desire and fidelity, longing and responsibility, routine and excitement. Basu never shies away from the uncomfortable: questions of infidelity, emotional neglect, and the tension between individual ambition and shared life are addressed head-on, yet never in a preachy way. His storytelling is deliberate, oscillating between comedy, melancholy, and romantic whimsy in a way that mirrors the characters’ own emotional unpredictability.

From language models to workflow automation, AI tools are increasingly integrated into everyday work, promising efficiency and insight. Yet adoption remains uneven, in part because misconceptions abound.

Every September, Apple asks us to upgrade. And every September, we wonder whether the shiny new iPhone is worth stretching our wallets again, or if last year’s model is still good enough. How much better is the iPhone 17 compared to last year’s iPhone 16? And if you are already thinking of spending big, how does it hold up against Android’s superpowers?

There is a sense of possibility in the air, a rare, almost tangible feeling that something is different.

When Netflix released the second season of "Wednesday" in two parts, I initially wondered whether this decision was driven by narrative necessity or simply by the platform’s strategy to keep the conversation alive for longer. After all, the first season had been a global phenomenon, and splitting the follow-up into two halves carried the risk of breaking its rhythm. Having now seen the complete season, I can say that while the release format interrupted its flow, the content itself proves that the creative team paid attention to the lessons of season one and delivered something richer, darker, and more confident. This time, the show leans further into the shadows while still delivering the sharp wit and macabre humour that made its first season so irresistible.

I found myself wondering why an animated film had suddenly taken the world by storm, topping Netflix’s global charts. Animated titles rarely reach this kind of universal acclaim unless they are tied to a massive franchise, and yet here was "KPop Demon Hunters", a seemingly niche story about idols battling demons, sitting at number one. Curiosity got the better of me, and I decided to dive in. What I found was a film that managed to wrap a playful premise around a surprisingly layered commentary on fame, identity, and the relentless machine of modern pop culture.

Every few years, Bollywood offers a story of maternal heroism, where a mother becomes both protector and saviour, taking centre stage in a narrative traditionally dominated by male leads. "Maa" enters this lineage with Kajol in the titular role, a choice that immediately draws attention. The film, currently streaming on Netflix, blends horror with mythology to weave a narrative that pits a mother’s fierce love against supernatural forces rooted in Bengali folklore. Set in Chandrapur, West Bengal, the story is anchored in the legend of Raktabeej and the fierce presence of Kali Maa, aiming to merge ancient myth with contemporary familial stakes. On paper, the premise is ambitious: a mother willing to defy mortal and supernatural odds to protect her child, all while exploring broader social themes, particularly the value of a girl child in a patriarchal setting.

This summer, we, the netizens, turned Instagram into a courtroom to decide whether Belly should pick Conrad or Jeremiah. My feed, once a respectable mix of vacation reels, fit checks, work memes, and unsolicited life advice from people who barely graduated high school, has turned into a teenage courtroom where strangers plead their case for fictional love triangles. We type furiously about the fate of a girl whose biggest problem is which handsome boy gets to stand in the rain with her, and read captions declaring loyalty to a boy who exists only in Prime Video’s servers. It feels as if the world pressed pause on adulthood and collectively moved into a beach house where heartbreak is cinematic, summers are eternal, and every decision feels like a new episode. And we—fully grown, allegedly serious and busy people—are here for it.