Book Reviews

Mrs Funnybones

By- Twinkle Khanna
Genre- Humour
Overall rating-9/10
Twinkle Khanna in her debut work has surely made a mark. ‘She is just like you and a lot like me’ the tagline seemed very absurd to me at first. I seriously could not have thought to relate to the life of a women who is entrepreneur, actress, mother, wife and daughter of actor. But Khanna proved us wrong, with her cheeky remarks and colourful opinions about everything and anything. She’s got word of cautions for her neighbourhood aunties to the media paparazzi. You are surely not getting bored reading this as Twinkle Khanna’s quick humour keeps you glued to the book. In between those funny lines she has also included some pleasant scenarios of her life.
Khanna gives us this account in the form of short humorous pieces arranged in alphabetical order (A- ‘Am I an Idiot’ to Z- ‘Zip Your Mouth for God Sake’) that have inbuilt jokes about a prodigal son, a baby, the man of the house, the domestic wonder. The self-depreciating humour and many ‘Blimeys’ make the book worthwhile.
Some parts which I loved the most and enjoyed thoroughly-
• “Life is full of contradictions. We crave security and independence in equal measures.”
• “The United Nations research states that men with the longest life expectancy are from Japan, followed by Switzerland. I am rather surprised at this result as since time immemorial we have been doing the Karva Chauth fast to make sure our men have long lives, and the results should have definitely shown by now. I scan the list, confident that in this chart of life expectancy, the Indian man must definitely be in the top 5. Nope! There are 146 countries above us where the men have longer lifespans, and the biggest blow is that even with four wives who don’t fast for them, the Arab men outlive our good old Indian dudes.”
• “As my eyes are shutting, I think about the word ‘love’. It is multi-layered, convoluted and as imperfect as all human emotions. It is not your heart beating fast when you look at him (I even knew a girl who would throw up each time she saw her beloved) or constantly wanting to be with the other person. Love in any relationship, family or an intimate friendship, is only about putting the other person’s needs ahead of your own, and that, my friend, is just as simple and as complex as you make it.”



Now that the sight of my phone makes me want to puke and there is no movies or books that can engage me anymore.

I sit and think.

When did we grow up?

Wasn’t it just yesterday when the 4 year old me held my little sisters hand for the first time, measured her little hand with mine. Now she constantly measures her height with me and says I’ll get taller than you. When did my little one grow up?

Wasn’t it just yesterday when my best friend used to cry about everything and come to me for every little advice. A day before, she gave me the most apt/wise advice ever. When did she grow up?

Wasn’t it just yesterday that another of my friend used to get jealous and angry at little things, now he reads Rumi and Hafiz. When did he grow up?

Wasn’t it just yesterday, when in school we saw our senior bhaiya and didis,so tall so much wiser than us. When did we become those bhaiyas and didis?

When did we grow up?

Write Ups

To The Helpers and The Strugglers,

To the Helpers,

 Sadly the STIGMA attached to mental health awareness in India is pretty big. It is not a thing we are not aware of. How commonly do we hear psychiatrist being referred as pagalon ka doctor. How commonly we hush up the talk about depression, how commonly we are not even able to identify the symptoms, or to reach out to a person before he\she commits self-harm,


 It’s time you reach out, be empathetic towards them, and be their strength.

For the strugglers,

 It’s okay to not be okay. But it’s not okay to stay like that forever. You got the potential, you can seek bigger things in life. And you are definitely stronger than this. I do see the super hero in you. GET UP, I know it is easier said than done, but you ought to get up. I know you don’t feel like waking up in the morning, I know you think you aren’t enough, you are afraid to step out, but you can’t give up on yourself, your dreams, and your family. If you need help reach out, talk about your symptoms to someone who actually cares, and seek professional help.

Reach out, talk to me, if you aren’t doing well lately. I really do care, and you are loved.


How I Write?

I am not that great of thinker or writer kinds. I love to read what my fellow mates write, how fluently their words form a harmony with each other and kind of engulf you, in contrast to my muddled up writing. I guess what I write does not have that pain, or the heartache that fuels the flow of the others.

On some days, I read beautiful-beautiful poetries, piece of works. I am left wondering how can you write this flawlessly. like how do you know what to write after the core idea. The other day, this line ‘you have to be someone’s pain to be written about’ came into my mind. but as soon as I sat down to write, I was blank. The cursor was pointing at me and I did not know what to write after this.

And another thing that constantly stops me is that as soon as I put my thoughts in word, they start looking at me like the most absurd thing ever. And I backspace all of it.

The same is happening with this one also, I think I’ll publish it before I press backspace.


Dear Fellow Women,

I know we are taught to hate each other. We are taught ‘two women can not be bestfriends’.

But this day and every day, I thank god for your existence because who else would provide me unconditional warmth when “Guy Best Friends” just aren’t getting the point. Because who else would notice and comment on the perfect wing that took hours to be perfected. Because who would be as dramatic as I want to be in a situation. Because who else would accompany me to the washroom. Because who else would write texts with me when my crush replies for the first time. Because who would *check* if everything is fine at the *back* and *front* as well.

To all the powerful and beautiful women in my life who I absolutely adore and love.



Dear XII A1,

It will be the second time that I would have to say goodbye to a school, and I think this is also going to be difficult (unlike the perception that I formed on the first day)

Dear XII A1, I remember how we all whined that our new class is placed just next to A2, but I guess that was destined, without them how would we have bonded on common grounds for hatred (except some few blessed souls). I am suddenly empty, I really want to write and capture all the days we spent together. From the day of the entrance exam, to the freshers where we all were timid little juniors in awe of our seniors, (:himanshi wynk wynk). From the literary week were Anhad and Tanvi slayed the podium, to the history project’s presentations. From getting caught by Lovish with phone to my phone playing a weird sing in the middle of a silent class. From being termed as nerds for the whole of the year, to putting up a failed show of NERD NIRVANA at the fete (I still don’t know if it was profit or loss, Ashiv please explain, na? ). From Anav being a sport, pissin off Mishika, to Vansh not coming up on the stage on farewell. From me doing ring-around-the roses with someone , to Vrinda finding cutie’s address. From getting intimidated from each one of you, too loving you from my core. From not wanting to come to school to, not wanting to leave, we all grew up, right?

Promises made in 10th of always staying in touch, were not adhered to, and honestly I do know if we will stay in touch or not, I can’t promise that. The one thing that I can promise is on the day I feel low, a photograph of our happy faces, and all these moments that we spend will make me smile.

With Love.


Dear Anhad,

I think you are one of those true souls. The ones who’s energy I crave. Those souls who’s disappointment and sadness can make you gloomy and their love radiates from their skin.

Anhad, I adore you, your persona, the way you work to achieve what you want, the way you love those around you, the way you laugh and giggle, and how you run behind peon bhaiya to get some mithai meant for teachers. I love how you never break rules but still be my partner in crime. I love how you protect me from some ‘looks’. 😂. We all love to share a laugh when you talk to fake snakes,(I really would love to take names, but I don’t involve myself in controversies.) Though this letter is written by me but I think Sehaj and Tanvi would agree,without you it would not have been the same, we all needed a crazy streak to open up. Thanks for sitting next to me, when teachers became unbearable thanks for drawing ❤️ on my notebooks. Thanks for breaking the ice on the first day of 11th. Tears are welling up and I think I would not be able to write more. But I hope you know how much you mean to me, to all of us.

Happy Birthday.



Happy New Year

We owe a big thanks to 2019 for being one hell of a year. From finding new talents and creating wonderful works. Thanks for being a part of this beautiful journey. We are grateful.

Cheers to 2020