Latest news with #Shubhra
Indian Express
21-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Indian Express
‘I've been in debt, bankrupt': Inside an apartment on the 80th floor in Burj Khalifa, the world's tallest building
Imagine living so high up that the city looks like a miniature set from your living room window. That's everyday life for Shubhra, a self-made entrepreneur whose home sits peacefully on the 80th floor of Dubai's iconic Burj Khalifa. But her story isn't just about luxury or height. It's about a woman who built everything from the ground up—facing everything from bankruptcy and betrayal to breakthrough success—now living in the tallest building on Earth. The elevator ride itself feels like a time warp—just moments and you're 76 floors above the ground. But when you step into Shubhra's apartment, the vibe changes. It's not cold or intimidating like you'd expect from a skyscraper. It's actually warm, calm, even a little boho. The interiors reflect a bold Bohemian-maximalist design with curated details like candlelit corners that speak of long evenings with friends. But more than the aesthetics, what stands out is how she describes the apartment: 'It's not about the Burj, it's home. It's where I rest, where I get mind space, where I can be myself.' There are residential units in the Burj up to the 108th floor, and somewhere around the 123rd, there's a resident-only lounge. It doesn't stop there; the rest of the floors have offices. Shubhra didn't inherit wealth. She didn't follow a straight path. What she did was put one foot in front of the other, building a business in the world of live events and global shows. Think massive stages, choreographed chaos, and spotlight moments—from the Commonwealth Games to the IPL and beyond. Her companies now operate across 70+ countries. And while that sounds glamorous, she's honest about the price she paid: 'I've been in debt. I've been bankrupt. I've had legal fights. I've been cheated. But I wouldn't change a thing. The wins far outweigh the losses.' There's no romanticising struggle here—just clarity. Clarity that nothing worth building comes without falling a few (or many) times. Today, she owns multiple companies. But she's not glued to her laptop 24/7. She's just selective about her time. Focused. 'I don't feel guilty about taking time off or being offline. If I'm burnt out, my entire team feels it. So I rest when I need to.' She's seen both sides of the hustle—where you do everything yourself and where you lead teams of hundreds. Her takeaway? Don't just chase money. Chase your peace. She believes that happiness isn't a luxury—it's a tool. A resource that fuels creativity, relationships, and resilience. Shubhra urges young people to stop overthinking and just begin. Because real learning only happens in motion—trying, failing, adjusting, trying again. And again. 'Driving doesn't mean you'll race in Formula One. You just drive. Same with life. Just start moving.'
Time of India
10-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Time of India
Aamar Boss Movie Review: A film about the elderly that has its heart in the right place
India's ageing population is steadily growing, and as joint families fragment and urban lives grow busier, the emotional needs of the elderly are often sidelined. Nandita Roy and Shiboprosad Mukherjee – known for their sensitive, socially aware films like Bela Seshe and Posto – tackle this shifting reality in their latest, Aamar Boss. The result is heartfelt and engaging, though occasionally uneven. The title Aamar Boss cleverly captures the film's essence – a role reversal where an ageing mother asserts her independence, not just as a parent, but as a person with purpose. This duality of affection and quiet rebellion sets the tone. The story begins with Shubhra (Rakhee Gulzar), a widowed, retired nurse with too much time and too little to do. Her son Animesh (Shiboprosad Mukherjee), busy with his publishing job, struggles to be present despite his love for her. Seeking purpose, Shubhra starts interning at his office – only to dream bigger. She launches a startup to empower other seniors, stirring both admiration and conflict at home. The first half unfolds with charm and warmth, bolstered by crisp cinematography. A standout moment features a sunset over the city skyline – a quiet, poignant exchange between mother and son that speaks volumes. However, the second half loses momentum. Comic relief, particularly from Sabitri Chatterjee, offers some sparkle but stretches a bit long. The narrative rushes key developments, leaving certain arcs underexplored. A few forced romantic subplots – and forgettable songs – distract from the core story. Rakhee's return is the film's biggest win. She commands the screen with grace; her expressive silences are deeply moving. Her scenes with Shiboprosad – filled with unspoken tension and mutual respect – are some of the film's best. While Shiboprosad is solid as the pragmatic son, his romantic track doesn't quite land. Gourab Chatterjee and Sauraseni Maitra add youthful energy, and the supporting cast – Shruti Das, Avery Singha Roy, Uma Banerjee, and Aishwarya Sen – shine in moments of genuine camaraderie, particularly among the women. Aamar Boss aligns well with the Roy-Mukherjee filmography. Just as Bela Seshe explored late-life love and Posto redefined parenting roles, this film asks: What does relevance mean in old age? It suggests that retirement can be a beginning, not an end. Yet, the storytelling occasionally feels crowded – multiple subplots compete for attention, diluting the impact. Despite its flaws, Aamar Boss resonates. It's a timely reminder that caregiving is not just about comfort, but about respect, agency, and space. Whether you're part of the sandwich generation or an older viewer seeking representation, the film offers moments of recognition – and quiet power.
