Dear Ms. Keller,
To be honest, I really have had no desire to write a single word about Weinergate. Our guest blogger, Razib has been keeping tabs on the story for us here at Sepia Mutiny. Other than my girlcrush on the fashionable lady married to the man in question and my well-wishes for the future success of the individuals involved, I didn’t really care to comment on the matter. After all, who knows/cares what goes on in the boudoirs of a married couple.
Those are exactly the sentiments you express in your post for Vanity Fair. In “Advice for Huma Abedin, Wife of Representative Anthony Weiner,” you write, “We’ve never been able to fathom the laws of attraction, and we haven’t a clue what goes on in other people’s relationships. She says she’s staying. So we’ll take it from there, and give her some tips to help make it work.” Then you go on to comment on their relationship. Well, what’s a little gossip between us ladies? Right? Right. Let me start by saying how much I admire your five tips for Ms. Abedin Mrs. Weiner. Stay home. Focus on the family. Lose lame-o mentors like Hillary (with her goshdarnawful contagious marital problems). Make awesome babies. All fabulous tips that my grandmother has been telling me for years. Continue reading
Only a few weeks till the start of summer. This can only mean one thing: skin. Bring on the season of skin-baring shorts, skorts, minis, sundresses, tank tops and bathing suits. And if you’re desi, bring on the nagging moms and aunties who try to tell you to cover up – more for the sake of preserving your complexion than for modesty’s sake. 
Yesterday, at 5:12PM, while I was sitting in the law library, panicking over the last sentences of my final exam for this semester, only a few blocks away a 23-year old boy, Mohan Varughese, a student from Penn State, was sitting with his girlfriend on the front steps of her off-campus apartment near Temple University, no doubt luxuriating in the perfect spring sun.
I first heard of 
I seriously loathe American romantic comedies. I realize that sounds a bit hypocritical coming from a Bollywood-phile like myself. But while you, dear reader, may remain skeptical, I argue that Bollywood romcoms remain in a sphere separate from your typical romcom. Sure they both have the goofy 
“I don’t own a television.” When I let that slip into conversation, most of my friends are aghast. They immediately assume one of two things: a) I am one of those holier-than-thou, live-in-the-moment, anti-media types or b) I’m just a weirdo. It’s probably a combination of both. Maybe someday I’ll see the need for a television, but right now I’m content with my laptop for movies and the occasional show at someone else’s house. But then again, our family has never been the television type. (Insert assumed air of humility and delicate toss of head.) My parents didn’t purchase their first television set until I was about 14, before that I mostly got my pop culture in disjointed snippets. Five minutes of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles at a neighbor’s house. The