Latest news with #Vivaan
Time of India
5 days ago
- Entertainment
- Time of India
Mini Mathur and Kabir Khan are proud parents on their son Viviaan's graduation
Actress Mini Mathur and director Kabir Khan are proud parents as their son Vivaan has graduated from the University of Southern California. The actress used social media to share a video of some fun moments from the graduation ceremony. She also wrote a heartfelt note on Instagram recalling her own graduation. Mini penned, "When I graduated from Delhi University (or for that matter when I did my masters) all I got was a pat on the back and a degree that reached me by mail. So I have never understood the big deal around graduation ceremonies in the west." Sharing her experience of Vivaan's graduation ceremony, she added, "For all the current uncertainty around foreign students in the US, I have to admit that I loved every minute of Vivaans graduation. It was celebratory, grandiose and very exhilarating. USC @presidentfolt you are a force of nature and it was amazing to get to know you better." Kabir Khan spotted with wife Mini Mathur at 'Sultan' screening Mini further congratulated the young minds on achieving another milestone in their journey. "Makes me wonder why we do not celebrate our milestones equally because it's really all about learning, growing and signalling a readiness to make our mark on the world. So many bright minds in their Harry Potter robes going out into a world they will helm eventually. Congratulations @vivaankabir for not just getting a double major in Politics & Film but also for four years of your metamorphosis. Also to my favourite boys @arnavbulani @ahaanrao @ @ !! You make us so proud," her note read. She decided to end the note with a fun disclosure. "PS: It was a first for me to wear sneakers under my saree and I loved it," Mini concluded. Mini tied the knot with the filmmaker in February 1998. The couple is parents to two kids - son Vivaan and daughter Sairah. Check out our list of the latest Hindi , English , Tamil , Telugu , Malayalam , and Kannada movies . Don't miss our picks for the best Hindi movies , best Tamil movies, and best Telugu films .
Indian Express
25-04-2025
- Entertainment
- Indian Express
Shah Rukh Khan refused to pull up Abhishek Bachchan, Vivan Shah despite Farah Khan's complaint: ‘Inke baap Amitabh Bachchan, Naseeruddin Shah inhe nahi sikha paaye toh…'
Shah Rukh Khan shared the screen space with Abhishek Bachchan and Vivaan Shah, son of Amitabh Bachchan and Naseeruddin Shah, respectively, in Farah Khan's film Happy New Year. Farah, known to be a taskmaster, apparently had a tough time with Abhishek and Vivaan on the sets, and even complained to the film's lead and producer, Shah Rukh. An old video from Shah Rukh, Farah, Abhishek and Vivaan's visit to the hit quiz show Kaun Banega Crorepati has SRK sharing about the incident and what refrained him from pulling up the two actors post Farah's complaint. In 2014, during the Happy New Year 's promotions, the cast visited the Kaun Banega Crorepati set. An old video shared online has Shah Rukh Khan reminiscing about an incident when filmmaker Farah Khan requested him to reprimand Abhishek Bachchan and Vivaan Shah. SRK told Amitabh Bachchan, ' Farah kabhi complain nhi karti as Farah khudh hin bht tandarust hai. Sab ko tik kar leti hai set ke upar (Farah never complains. Farah herself is very healthy. She takes care of everything on her own on the set).' ' Ek baar isne (Farah) mujhe bahut complain kiya. Isne kaha ki Abhishek aur Vivaan jo hai dono ke dono bahut pareshan kar rahe hain, distracted rehte hain, baat cheet kar rahe hain, tang kar rahe hain. Baar baar meri photo leke Twitter pe daal rahe hain. Bahut tang karte hain Abhishek aur Vivaan isko, toh tum jaake unse baat karo. (Once she complained to me that Abhishek and Vivaan are troubling her, they are distracted, keep chatting, take her pictures and upload them on Twitter. They irritate me a lot so you go and talk to them),' added SRK SRK added, ' Maine kaha nahi Farah bacche hai yaar, aese thode hi na hota hai yaar, ho jayega (It's ok they are children). 'No, today I'm very angry. You go and talk'. Toh Sir, main bada aese kamar kas k pahuch gaya. Main bolne ko shuru hua phir mujhe dimaag m aya ki Abhishek Bachchan ke jo daddy hai woh Mr Amitabh Bachchan hai. Phir aya ki Vivaan ke jo daddy hai woh Mr Naseeruddin Shah hai. Phir mere dimaag me aya ki agar inke baap inko nahi sikha sake toh main kya sikhaunga (I said Farah they are just kids, it's not like that, it will be fine. But she said, 'No, today I'm very angry. You go and talk to them.' So sir, I went there with determination… I started to speak, and then it hit me that Abhishek Bachchan's father is Mr. Amitabh Bachchan. Then I realized that Vivaan's father is Mr Naseeruddin Shah. And then it struck me that if their fathers couldn't teach them, what could I teach them)?' Watch SRK's old video from Kaun Banega Crorepati sets: This description not only made Senior Bachchan laugh but the audience and other stars too burst into laughter.
Yahoo
25-02-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
Deviants by Santanu Bhattacharya; The South by Tash Aw review – love under the eye of the law
What makes sex so natural a subject for fiction isn't simply prurience, but rather the drama built into the evergreen question of how private desire finds expression, not least when the law's looking. Two new novels, both set in Asia and centred on the coming of age of gay men, play out against the legacy of section 377, the Victorian penal code criminalising homosexuality in British colonies – repealed in 2018 in India, where Santanu Bhattacharya's Deviants unfolds, and still applicable in Malaysia, the setting of Tash Aw's The South, the first of a planned quartet from the two-time Booker longlistee. Related: Tash Aw: 'There's something hyper-masculine about writing an epic' Deviants, Bhattacharya's second novel, hops with buttonholing vim around three gay men across three generations over the past half-century to draw surprising contrasts and continuities of experience amid legal and cultural change. The two earliest threads, which open in the 70s and 90s, tell of loneliness, shame, persecution. One protagonist, an artist, lives with the painful memory of a thrilling secret relationship that was snuffed out almost as soon as it began, with his lover, known only as X, curtly announcing his marriage. Another, a university student, falls in love with his university classmate only to be ostracised, with much worse to come. But the segment that lies closest to the book's heart unfolds as a series of voice notes in the here and now. Vivaan from Bengaluru – tech-savvy, comfortably out, not yet 17 – tells us how his parents fight his corner when a teacher voices concern about bringing his latest dating-app hook-up, Zed, to the school dance. We're as uneasy as Vivaan when his teacher, doing a U-turn, smugly congratulates herself for her enlightened approach; ditto when the night itself leaves him feeling as if he's cos-playing straight coupledom. Yet we're even more sceptical when Zed responds by introducing Vivaan to the joys of app-enabled polyamory, as they Uber themselves from one multiway rendezvous to the next. 'Who would've thought there was this underbelly in this boring Silicon Plateau?' thinks Vivaan. 'By day, everyone was an IT developer, project manager, venture capitalist and whatnot. And by night, they were... open to being anything.' Bhattacharya gives a fairly provocative side-eye to the notion of progress, registering potential losses as well as obvious gains It's no surprise when Vivaan starts asking questions of where he and Zed stand. Twining their story with those of past lives is a way for Bhattacharya to give fairly provocative side-eye to the notion of progress, registering potential losses as well as obvious gains. A plot turn into the farther frontiers of AI leaves Deviants poised between a sober portrait of stymied lives and a bold satire on big tech and the marketisation of sex, leaving us uncomfortably uncertain (victory, for a novelist) about the precise nature of Vivaan's hard-won freedoms. Aw's equally absorbing new novel, The South, unfolds in a gentler key. Set in rural Malaysia, it has a more classic coming-of-age setup, taking place over a single summer during the teenage narrator's school holidays. We're somewhere in the mid-2010s (there are corruption allegations against the disgraced prime minister Najib Razak), when Jay pitches up from his unnamed home city with his Chinese-Malaysian family to figure out how best to deal with the long-neglected farm they've just inherited after his grandfather's death. Gruffly dispatched by his dad to make himself useful on the land, he spends long days in the company of Chuan, a shrewd young farm worker in the family's employ: Jay's first cigarette, first beer and first kiss all ensue in short order. His cross-class relationship, built on swims and scooter rides and fuelled by lingering glances and, eventually, secret trysts, unfolds with unsensational reserve against the backdrop of wider family upheaval caused by revelations about Jay's father, a university lecturer facing pre-retirement redundancy in a case of long-brewing sectarian discrimination. The double life he's shown to have led holds up a mirror to Jay's own, and supplies one of several contexts for the novel's delicate airing of age-old questions about what it means to be a man. Hushed in tone, leisurely and episodic in the telling, Aw's book adopts the perspective of a range of characters Hushed in tone, leisurely and episodic in the telling, the book adopts the perspective of a range of characters besides Jay, making quietly clear that his older sisters' desires also must find form within the confines of expectations. Lina won't tell their parents about her Malay boyfriend for fear of what they'll say; a worry confirmed by the casual bigotry of Chuan, whose views repeatedly grind against the righteousness of the novel's big-city blow-ins, whether he's standing up for the bulldozing of ancient forests or laughing at Jay's question of whether they'll be 'able to hold hands in the street one day, somewhere': 'Don't you have better things to think about in life?', he responds, crushingly. The personal is political, but these novels – each smart and engaging, The South interior, Deviants expansive – unsettle the instrumentalism implied by that old saw ('What if same-sex love is not an act of resistance, what if that is just how it is for some people?', asks one of Bhattacharya's gay narrators). Yet for all that these books are interested in looking hard in the eye at rehearsed narratives, they leave no room to doubt what all their protagonists know full well: there's always such a thing as society. • Deviants by Santanu Bhattacharya is published by Fig Tree (£16.99). To support the Guardian and Observer order your copy at Delivery charges may apply. • The South by Tash Aw is published by 4th Estate (£16.99). To support the Guardian and Observer order your copy at Delivery charges may apply
The Guardian
25-02-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
Deviants by Santanu Bhattacharya; The South by Tash Aw review – love under the eye of the law
What makes sex so natural a subject for fiction isn't simply prurience, but rather the drama built into the evergreen question of how private desire finds expression, not least when the law's looking. Two new novels, both set in Asia and centred on the coming of age of gay men, play out against the legacy of section 377, the Victorian penal code criminalising homosexuality in British colonies – repealed in 2018 in India, where Santanu Bhattacharya's Deviants unfolds, and still applicable in Malaysia, the setting of Tash Aw's The South, the first of a planned quartet from the two-time Booker longlistee. Deviants, Bhattacharya's second novel, hops with buttonholing vim around three gay men across three generations over the past half-century to draw surprising contrasts and continuities of experience amid legal and cultural change. The two earliest threads, which open in the 70s and 90s, tell of loneliness, shame, persecution. One protagonist, an artist, lives with the painful memory of a thrilling secret relationship that was snuffed out almost as soon as it began, with his lover, known only as X, curtly announcing his marriage. Another, a university student, falls in love with his university classmate only to be ostracised, with much worse to come. But the segment that lies closest to the book's heart unfolds as a series of voice notes in the here and now. Vivaan from Bengaluru – tech-savvy, comfortably out, not yet 17 – tells us how his parents fight his corner when a teacher voices concern about bringing his latest dating-app hook-up, Zed, to the school dance. We're as uneasy as Vivaan when his teacher, doing a U-turn, smugly congratulates herself for her enlightened approach; ditto when the night itself leaves him feeling as if he's cos-playing straight coupledom. Yet we're even more sceptical when Zed responds by introducing Vivaan to the joys of app-enabled polyamory, as they Uber themselves from one multiway rendezvous to the next. 'Who would've thought there was this underbelly in this boring Silicon Plateau?' thinks Vivaan. 'By day, everyone was an IT developer, project manager, venture capitalist and whatnot. And by night, they were... open to being anything.' It's no surprise when Vivaan starts asking questions of where he and Zed stand. Twining their story with those of past lives is a way for Bhattacharya to give fairly provocative side-eye to the notion of progress, registering potential losses as well as obvious gains. A plot turn into the farther frontiers of AI leaves Deviants poised between a sober portrait of stymied lives and a bold satire on big tech and the marketisation of sex, leaving us uncomfortably uncertain (victory, for a novelist) about the precise nature of Vivaan's hard-won freedoms. Aw's equally absorbing new novel, The South, unfolds in a gentler key. Set in rural Malaysia, it has a more classic coming-of-age setup, taking place over a single summer during the teenage narrator's school holidays. We're somewhere in the mid-2010s (there are corruption allegations against the disgraced prime minister Najib Razak), when Jay pitches up from his unnamed home city with his Chinese-Malaysian family to figure out how best to deal with the long-neglected farm they've just inherited after his grandfather's death. Gruffly dispatched by his dad to make himself useful on the land, he spends long days in the company of Chuan, a shrewd young farm worker in the family's employ: Jay's first cigarette, first beer and first kiss all ensue in short order. His cross-class relationship, built on swims and scooter rides and fuelled by lingering glances and, eventually, secret trysts, unfolds with unsensational reserve against the backdrop of wider family upheaval caused by revelations about Jay's father, a university lecturer facing pre-retirement redundancy in a case of long-brewing sectarian discrimination. The double life he's shown to have led holds up a mirror to Jay's own, and supplies one of several contexts for the novel's delicate airing of age-old questions about what it means to be a man. Sign up to Observed Analysis and opinion on the week's news and culture brought to you by the best Observer writers after newsletter promotion Hushed in tone, leisurely and episodic in the telling, the book adopts the perspective of a range of characters besides Jay, making quietly clear that his older sisters' desires also must find form within the confines of expectations. Lina won't tell their parents about her Malay boyfriend for fear of what they'll say; a worry confirmed by the casual bigotry of Chuan, whose views repeatedly grind against the righteousness of the novel's big-city blow-ins, whether he's standing up for the bulldozing of ancient forests or laughing at Jay's question of whether they'll be 'able to hold hands in the street one day, somewhere': 'Don't you have better things to think about in life?', he responds, crushingly. The personal is political, but these novels – each smart and engaging, The South interior, Deviants expansive – unsettle the instrumentalism implied by that old saw ('What if same-sex love is not an act of resistance, what if that is just how it is for some people?', asks one of Bhattacharya's gay narrators). Yet for all that these books are interested in looking hard in the eye at rehearsed narratives, they leave no room to doubt what all their protagonists know full well: there's always such a thing as society. Deviants by Santanu Bhattacharya is published by Fig Tree (£16.99). To support the Guardian and Observer order your copy at Delivery charges may apply. The South by Tash Aw is published by 4th Estate (£16.99). To support the Guardian and Observer order your copy at Delivery charges may apply
