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Who Was Vibhu Raghave? The 37-Year-Old Actor Died Due To Stage 4 Colon Cancer
Who Was Vibhu Raghave? The 37-Year-Old Actor Died Due To Stage 4 Colon Cancer

News18

time03-06-2025

  • Entertainment
  • News18

Who Was Vibhu Raghave? The 37-Year-Old Actor Died Due To Stage 4 Colon Cancer

Last Updated: Battling colon cancer for three years, Vibhu Raghave was undergoing treatment at Mumbai's Nanavati Hospital. Popular television actor Vibhu Raghave succumbed to colon cancer on Monday, June 2. Battling the disease for three years, the actor was undergoing treatment at Mumbai's Nanavati Hospital. 'The purest soul, a beacon of strength & positivity. His smile could light up any room & his presence alone made everything feel better. He faced life with unmatched grace & left behind a love that will never fade. He will be deeply missed. Always (sic)," read the official statement from the family after his unfortunate demise. Who Was Vibhu Raghave? Born in Khurja, Uttar Pradesh, Vibhu's father, Thakur Ravinder Kumar Singh Raghave, was a former Member of the Legislative Assembly (MLA), whereas his mother is a homemaker. After his early education, Vibhu moved to the United States to pursue formal training in acting. At the New York Film Academy, he honed his skills to make a successful career in the entertainment world. Upon completing his studies, Vibhu returned to India to pursue a career in television and bagged some shows. His breakthrough role came in the popular TV show Nisha Aur Uske Cousins, which starred Aneri Vajani in the lead role. His portrayal of Saurav, a loyal and kind-hearted man, in the youth-centric drama resonated deeply with audiences. He also appeared in shows like Suvreen Guggal – Topper of the Year and Rhythm. Vibhu Raghave's Battle With Cancer While Vibhu continued to work hard to achieve his goals, destiny had different plans. In early 2022, he was diagnosed with stage 4 neuroendocrine colon cancer. A true warrior, the actor decided to raise awareness about the disease among people by documenting his journey on Instagram. He kept fans updated about his treatment journey, which included chemotherapy, immunotherapy, and holistic healing in Dharamshala. In January this year, Vibhu Raghave shared a video on Instagram to inform his Insta fam that cancer is spreading to his liver, spine, lungs and other parts of the body. Later, in another post shared in April, Vibhu also revealed to have found out that the new form of treatment was 'not working". 'We are in the middle of a new treatment… We hope there's some good news when we go in for another scan," he shared in the post on Instagram. Vibhu Raghave is survived by his mother Anupama Raghav, brother Aishwarya Raghave and sister Garima Singh Tyagi. First Published:

Suhana Khan Birthday: 10 interesting things you'll be surprised to know about Shah Rukh Khan's daughter
Suhana Khan Birthday: 10 interesting things you'll be surprised to know about Shah Rukh Khan's daughter

Pink Villa

time21-05-2025

  • Entertainment
  • Pink Villa

Suhana Khan Birthday: 10 interesting things you'll be surprised to know about Shah Rukh Khan's daughter

Suhana Khan, the daughter of Bollywood superstar Shah Rukh Khan and interior designer Gauri Khan, celebrates her birthday on May 22, 2025. She's already made headlines for her stylish appearances and acting debut. Suhana is steadily carving her own identity in the world of entertainment. From studying abroad to starring in films, her journey is nothing short of fascinating. Scroll down to discover some interesting and lesser-known facts about this rising star. 10 interesting things about the King actor Suhana Khan: 1. Just like her father, Suhana Khan has a strong passion for sports. She's known to be a fan of both football and cricket. During her school years, she reportedly led the Under-14 team as captain. In addition to that, Suhana has also earned multiple state-level accolades in Taekwondo competitions. 2. Besides her love for sports, Suhana is also passionate about dancing. She appeared in Shiamak Davar's Pop dance video for the Summer Funk Show. 3. Whoever claims that star kids lack intelligence should reconsider. Suhana Khan is a talented writer and has won the Katha National Story Writing Competition. 4. Guess who Suhana Khan's favorite YouTube channel is? It turns out to be Lilly Singh, the popular Canadian YouTuber. 5. Suhana is also a big fan of Zayn Malik, the former One Direction member, and she has a strong liking for British pop music. 6. Few people know that before The Archies, Suhana made her acting debut in 2019 with the short film The Grey Part Of Blue. 7. Suhana Khan has also honed her acting skills by studying at the prestigious New York Film Academy, showing she's serious about her craft beyond just being a star kid. 8. Suhana has been making significant strides in real estate investments. In June 2023, she acquired a 1.5-acre agricultural land in Thal village, Alibaug, Maharashtra, for Rs 12.91 crore. She also purchased an additional 78,361 square feet of farmland in Thal village for Rs 9.5 crore in February 2024. 9. Khan has an impressive academic background, completing her schooling at the Dhirubhai Ambani International School and graduating from Ardingly College in England. 10. At just 25, Suhana Khan has already established herself as a prominent figure in the entertainment and fashion industries. With her debut in The Archies and a growing portfolio of brand endorsements, she has amassed an estimated net worth of Rs 13 crore.

Cinematographer Mridul Sen on ‘Subham': We took a cinéma vérité approach
Cinematographer Mridul Sen on ‘Subham': We took a cinéma vérité approach

The Hindu

time14-05-2025

  • Entertainment
  • The Hindu

Cinematographer Mridul Sen on ‘Subham': We took a cinéma vérité approach

In Subham, the Telugu film produced by Samantha Ruth Prabhu and directed by Praveen Kandregula, Bheemunipatnam in Andhra Pradesh is presented as an idyllic seaside town in pastel hues. This charming town transitions into a spooky setting as the story progresses into a horror comedy. Giving this film and its story, with its underlying themes of feminism and masculinity, a pleasing visual aesthetic is cinematographer Mridul Sen. Her camera functions as an invisible observer, dutifully capturing the essence of the story and its characters. 'We wanted Subham's visual tonality to be realistic, on the lines of cinéma vérité,' says Mridul, referring to the style of documentary filmmaking that emerged in France in the 1960s. During the location recce, Mridul observed how the coastal town retained an old world charm and was mostly in pastel hues. The film's story is set in the early 2000s, before the arrival of smartphones. Mridul says the team did not have to make major changes since 'Bheemili is still untouched by today's frenzy.' For the story that revolves around three couples in a middle class locality, Mridul recalls how Praveen Kandregula did not want clothes or props to be too bright or new. 'We coordinated with the costume department (Poojitha Tadikonda) and production designer (Ramcharan Tej Labani), ensuring that the colours were muted. 'Praveen did not want anything brand new or even with a fresh coat of paint. He avoided curtains or cushions that could be jarring.' This attention to detail extended to the makeup of the artistes, and the jumpscares that unravelled like a prank. 'We wanted to keep things light rather than creepy,' adds Mridul. Subham marks Mridul's entry into Telugu cinema, but it was the second Telugu film she signed. She and Praveen first worked on the soon-to-release Paradha, a road trip story featuring Anupama Parameswaran, Sangita Krish and Darshana Rajendran. 'Paradha is poetic and earthy in its visual treatment. We were focusing on its post-production work when Subham came our way.' Mumbai-based Mridul is an alumnus of New York Film Academy's Los Angeles campus. She describes the film school as a cultural hotpot where she collaborated with peers from the US, Egypt, Venezuela, Brazil, Mexico, and Spain. 'NYFA encouraged a collaborative atmosphere; we learnt direction, editing and colour grading as well. We handled different responsibilities while working on each other's films.' Mridul was fascinated by the visual arts in her formative years, from painting to photography, and had also been drawn towards television. 'There was no defining moment or an epiphany, it was a natural progression from assisting my father, Sujit Asit Sen, a steadicam operator, during Dilwale and Singham Returns, to wanting to be a cinematographer.' Guided by cinematographer Binod Pradhan, she applied to NYFA. Mridul's first feature was the Marathi film Khari Biscuit for which she won the award for best cinematography from Sakal Premier Awards, 2019. Commercials, music videos and short films followed. The short film Written By? fetched her the best cinematography award at the Kolkata Short Film Festival. The chance to work with Praveen Kandregula came through common friends and Mridul had no preconceived notion about mainstream Telugu films. Having watched Praveen's indie film Cinema Bandi, she was game for a new journey. A film's genre and story are of prime importance to her, not the language. While the response to Subham is still trickling in, Mridul is awaiting the release of Paradha. In contrast to the intimate world of Subham, she reveals that Paradha incorporates drone shots and wider frames as the narrative travels from the Telugu States to Dharamshala, using a visual palette steeped in stark, earthy tones. Mridul does not make a big deal of being among the few female cinematographers in India, more so in Telugu cinema. Asked why fewer women take to the craft, she says after careful consideration, 'There is a notion that this is a labour intensive job, involving long hours of being on our feet. I would argue that if I were in a desk job, it would be mentally taxing. Rather than talk about how cinematography is not solely a man's job, I prefer to keep my head down, do the work and silently break the stereotype.'

EXCLUSIVE 70s actress known for playing Happy Days star's girlfriend is unrecognizable on rare outing... can you guess who?
EXCLUSIVE 70s actress known for playing Happy Days star's girlfriend is unrecognizable on rare outing... can you guess who?

Daily Mail​

time26-04-2025

  • Entertainment
  • Daily Mail​

EXCLUSIVE 70s actress known for playing Happy Days star's girlfriend is unrecognizable on rare outing... can you guess who?

Fans of classic television were delighted to spot one of Happy Days' most memorable stars out and about in Los Angeles this week, as the actress made a rare appearance at age 71. The TV favorite looked effortlessly radiant behind the wheel of her SUV, flashing a sunny smile. Dressed in a laid-back blue plaid shirt and well-worn jeans, she was nearly unrecognizable from her glammed-up days on-screen—especially when compared to the flashy showgirl attire she sported in her short-lived 1977 spinoff Blansky's Beauties. The Florida-born actress didn't stop with sitcom fame, later popping up in fan-favorite films like Beaches and Pretty Woman. She even took on a risqué role in the 1994 comedy Exit to Eden alongside Rosie O'Donnell. Can you guess which iconic supporting star this is? Dressed in a laid-back blue plaid shirt and well-worn jeans, she was nearly unrecognizable from her glammed-up days on-screen—especially when compared to the flashy showgirl attire she sported in her short-lived 1977 spinoff Blansky's Beauties If you guessed Lynda Goodfriend, you nailed it! Goodfriend joined Happy Days in its fifth season as Lori Beth Allen, Richie Cunningham's wholesome college sweetheart, eventually becoming his wife in a special long-distance wedding ceremony officiated via telephone from Army training. Though originally introduced as a recurring character, Lynda's warm chemistry with Ron Howard and endearing screen presence quickly made her a fan favorite, earning her a more regular role in the later seasons. Happy Days ended in 1984, after running for 11 seasons and a total of 255 episodes. 'Without a doubt, the eight years I spent on the hit TV show, Happy Days, playing Lori Beth, Ron Howard's girlfriend, were the most fun of all the work I've done,' she told the New York Film Academy in 2023. She added, 'I also toured with a Broadway production called Good News with Alice Faye. 'We did nine months on the road before we opened on Broadway, performing and getting reviews in all the major cities in the US. Being on tour – That was a blast!' Goodfriend graduated from Coral Gables High School in Florida and went on to earn a BFA in drama from Southern Methodist University in Dallas. Before her breakout on Happy Days, she starred as Ethel 'Sunshine' Akalino on the short-lived series Blansky's Beauties and later joined Happy Days alongside co-star Scott Baio. She first appeared on the show in a guest role as Kim during Season 4 before returning in Season 5 as the beloved Lori Beth, Richie Cunningham's sweet-natured girlfriend and eventual wife. Goodfriend remained on the show for eight seasons, becoming a fan favorite and staple of the series. Beyond her sitcom fame, she appeared in several Garry Marshall films, including Pretty Woman, Beaches, Nothing in Common, and Exit to Eden. She also performed on Broadway in Good News (1974) and appeared in classic productions like Fiddler on the Roof, West Side Story, and She Loves Me. Behind the scenes, she directed TV projects, including the pilot Four Stars, and in 2009, the short film The Perfect Crime. Goodfriend also founded the Actors Workout Theater and School in NoHo, worked in talent management, and currently serves as acting chair at the New York Film Academy.

How pop culture becomes power for Gen Z, millennials from Bahujan backgrounds
How pop culture becomes power for Gen Z, millennials from Bahujan backgrounds

Mint

time25-04-2025

  • Entertainment
  • Mint

How pop culture becomes power for Gen Z, millennials from Bahujan backgrounds

A few years ago, I found myself in the middle of a conversation with my office mates, all graduates of universities such as Symbiosis and New York Film Academy, about Martin Scorsese and his cinema. I knew enough to smile and nod but not enough to riff. And in that moment, I knew exactly what was happening. Everyone at the table had grown up speaking a dialect I was just beginning to learn: cultural shorthand. Not English. But something slipperier. I am a final-year dropout from an aided college in Mumbai's suburbs. I worked as a welder (which wasn't a coincidence; my Lohar caste has always been in metalwork, and my father ran a small fabrication shop in Jogeshwari) before joining a pop culture content company as a meme maker. One of the reasons I think I got in was because I could understand pop culture references. I knew who Pink Floyd and Metallica were, could quote Eminem lyrics, and knew the difference between Marvel and DC storylines. That exposure didn't come from inherited privilege. It came from an English-medium school and a habit of spending recesses with classmates talking about American pop culture. That exposure, scrappy as it was, turned out to be currency. For Gen Z and young millennials from working-class and Bahujan backgrounds, this kind of exposure isn't just helpful, it's fundamental. It's how they're navigating a world that increasingly runs on reference, articulation and cultural access. Caste doesn't always announce itself through slurs or surnames anymore. In 2025, it's subtler. It's in the rhythm of taste. A dance everyone seems to know. When to laugh. Who casually drops Succession, quotes Fleabag, or instinctively knows how to dress down for a client lunch. The kind of exposure that counts isn't about degrees or English. It's about taste. And if you are from a working-class or Bahujan background, no one hands you that memo. You have to discover what that memo even is on your own. One moment of quiet discomfort at a dinner table, one late-night Wikipedia dive, one awkward laugh at a joke you didn't get. Until it clicks. Hitesh Pardeshi, 35, a marketing professional and political strategist from Goa, belongs to the Pardeshi Bhamta community which is part of the VJNT (Vimukta Jati and Nomadic Tribes) classification in Maharashtra. He remembers the sharp awkwardness of not knowing the menu at McDonald's. 'Back in junior college, a friend took our group there for her birthday. I had never been. I just said 'Maharaja Mac' because someone else said it. I had no clue what it was. But I didn't want to stand out or seem like I didn't belong." That moment, he says, taught him how power hides in ease. How some people grow up knowing these codes, and others are forced to learn them in real time. This isn't a celebration of exposure. It's a provocation. If Babasaheb (Dr. B.R. Ambedkar) built tools to dismantle structures, what are we building for the next generation? Babasaheb studied at Columbia University in the US, and later the London School of Economics in the UK. He wasn't only looking for education. He was building a political toolkit, gathering ideas, frameworks, and strategies to take back home. He didn't just study. He absorbed. He sat in John Dewey's lectures. He read W.E.B. Du Bois. He began understanding systems, institutions, and the architecture of inequality on a global scale. That exposure didn't change who he was. It amplified what he already knew. It sharpened the vocabulary of revolt. It was calculated power. Babasaheb made sure he was read, heard and seen in the language of those sitting in power so he could dismantle their language from within. This was a strategy shaped by exposure. And that exposure, back then, is what broadband, Netflix, Reddit and critical theory can be for Bahujan youth today. Ketki Lohakare, 28, a queer Dalit woman working in advertising, described how fast cultural currency moved when she arrived in Mumbai from a smaller town six years ago. 'Everything was a year ahead. Songs, memes, references. I'd just nod when people brought up Friends or international bands. You feel smaller. Not just financially, but emotionally too." Now, she says, she's stopped pretending. 'If I haven't seen something, I say it. And when people explain it, I make them feel excited, not awkward. That's my power now." Raunak Ramteke, 32, a Dalit employee at a major consumer internet company, read the Harry Potter books not for joy but social survival. 'Everyone else loved it. I forced myself to read it just so I could join the conversation." He no longer performs cultural fluency. 'Now I just say, 'I haven't watched that.' But I remember how it felt. Panic and isolation. When you don't get the reference and everyone else does." Raica Mathews, 33, a business and growth strategist raised in a one-room chawl in Mumbai, spent her childhood observing long before she ever participated. Silence wasn't passive. It was preparation. 'At first, I played along," says Raica. 'Laughed when others laughed, Googled references under the table. When someone said 'You haven't watched that?', it was a velvet-rope reminder: you're not from here. But the more I studied their canon, the more I started writing my own. I stopped performing. I started drawing from where I came from. The rhythm of my street, the sharpness of growing up on edge. The stories no one else could tell were far more valuable than anything said in any room." Fardeen Shaikh, 25, who runs a marketing agency, and grew up in the slums of Juhu Galli in Mumbai, got his education in pop culture through dubbed cartoons and school library comics (DC as well as Amar Chitra Katha ). 'We didn't watch English content at home, nobody spoke the language. I found out about Friends and other popular TV shows in college. Then I'd go home, read their Wikipedia and Fandom pages. That was my prep school." These aren't stories about faking it. And let's be honest. None of this catching up is mutual. The burden of understanding always falls on the Bahujan kid. The classroom doesn't teach his metaphors. The interview panel doesn't get her references. Nobody's Googling her world after the meeting. This isn't a two-way bridge. It's a one-way hustle. You learn their jokes, their shows, their vocabulary. Because that's the price of entry. These are stories of people catching up to a system they were never introduced to just to be able to make small talk. It is about learning, listening and picking things up through context and curiosity. Babasaheb wasn't performing when he studied Sanskrit. He wasn't pretending when he quoted Mill or Dewey. He did it so his words couldn't be dismissed. So he could step into every room and speak with clarity and presence. That same instinct is alive in every young person today who's decoding cultural signals in real time. When working-class kids do the work to learn, understand and use cultural references as if they were born with it, they're pushed into spaces that rarely make room for them by default. That fluency comes from watching how people speak, picking up context from silence, diving into Wikipedia, and rehearsing lines in your head before a meeting. Slowly, it builds into something sharper: the ability to say, 'I don't know this, but I'd like to," without shrinking. And just as importantly, 'I do know this and it matters too." That shift, from absorbing to asserting, is where self-respect begins to take root. Hitesh points to the internet as the game changer. 'Once I had access, I stopped feeling out of place." Raica says she used to think other people's references were better. Now, she uses her own. 'I talk about where I come from, the stories I know, and people listen." What changed wasn't the audience. It was her clarity about the value of what she brought. There's a narrative sold to Bahujan kids: 'aspire higher". But no one tells them how the privileged actually succeed: by replicating, referencing, rehearsing power. Elite kids write fake poverty sob stories to secure Ivy League scholarships. Meanwhile, kids in slums and tier-2 cities are still memorising dates for SSC forms or prepping for Paramilitary Entrance Bharti Academy. Same country. Two scripts. So what's the work now? Not just to inspire aspiration. But to teach replication. Not to crash elite spaces as visitors. But to walk in as creators, critics, disruptors. Exposure isn't about copying someone else's taste. It's about understanding what gets attention, what holds space in a room, what brings money and deciding how you want to show up there. Knowing about three seasons of Succession will often get you more access than 200 episodes of Taarak Mehta Ka Ooltah Chashmah , simply because the people making decisions are more familiar with the former. There will be pushback. That this focus on pop culture is soft. That it's capitalist. That it's mimicry. But Babasaheb wore suits for power, not polish. He read global thinkers to sharpen his local rage. He mastered Brahminical tools only to dismantle them. This isn't mimicry. This is mastery. And mastery begins with exposure. We often think of affirmative action as a seat in a college, or a government job. But it is also the ability to read a room. To know what to reference, when to speak, how to speak. It's about access to articulation, not just admission. Imagine community programmes that don't stop at coding or coaching, but also teach kids how to break down a scene from The White Lotus, how to defend a song they love, and how to recognise tone in a panel discussion. Not as add-ons, but essentials. It's training in how to think, listen, speak, and belong. It's humanities by another name. And in a world where algorithms decide reach and language decides room, this kind of education isn't optional. It's how we learn to live, and more importantly, how we learn to be heard. To build a more equal world, reservations and scholarships alone won't cut it. Access must extend beyond textbooks. Because the next layer of opportunity is already coded in taste, reference and presence. As government jobs shrink and public sector pathways dry up, exposure becomes even more crucial. For young people from Bahujan and labouring backgrounds, who have long relied on state employment as a ladder out of poverty, cultural literacy and social fluency are no longer optional, they are essential. If more Bahujan kids are to succeed, then exposure needs to be treated not as luxury, but as rightful infrastructure. A basic, foundational tool for walking into any room without shrinking. Balram Vishwakarma is an ethnographer, marketer and cultural strategist based in Mumbai. Art and culture carry the memory of resistance and the promise of solidarity. When movements across the world against caste, racism, occupation, patriarchy and capitalism speak to each other, they don't echo, they harmonise. From Dalit/Anti-caste History Month to Black History Month, from Palestine to Sudan, creativity becomes our common language. It is through shared stories, rhythms and visuals that we build a solidarity that is not transactional, but transformative. Art becomes a bridge across borders, a map of pain and protest, and a vision of liberation. In pigment, in poetry, in performance, we remember, we resist, we rebuild. — Siddhesh Gautam

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