Twinkle-91954666Once Amitabh Bachchan took to blogging, 2347 blog posts ago, it became the done thing for celebrities to jump onto the bandwagon and keep us informed about daily lives, via posts and tweets. If you follow Salman Khan on Twitter, for example, you’ll know that celebrities, while having a lot to say, often veer off so far into Twilight Zone territory that you’re never quite sure what they’re saying. Twinkle Khanna is a cheerful exception.

This ex-model/semi-successful movie star/present-Mrs Akshay Kumar has a funny and delightfully self-deprecating way of narrating her everyday life’s various excitements, in her column in the DNA newspaper. Khanna has quirky takes on pop culture fads, pokes fun at ‘the man of the house’, expounds on her art-loving diva mother Dimple Kapadia, describes her karate-chopping kids in loving detail and rails about an absolutely useless Man Friday. While she might not be Lady Austen, her writing makes for a fun, light read and provides interesting insights into the life of a movie star’s wife — her hilarious first-world problems, pretentious girl gang and several juicy tidbits about the obnoxiously rich and famous. Here are a few excerpts:

26th August 2014
Twinkle Khanna on the ‘Save Ice Kill Lice’ campaign

My phone is ringing and as I am cursing the hell out of the person who has called me early in the morning, I realise that it is, in fact, the man of the house, all the way from South Africa. I croak out a muffled hello and he quite happily chirps, ‘I have nominated you for the Ice Bucket Challenge’. While I am still trying to open my eyes, he further declares that I must empty a bucket of cold water over my head, as it is for a good cause. When I protest that wasting water can never be a good idea, the man of the house smugly informs me that he didn’t waste anything – he had thought about it and had used the freezing South African sea water, donated money and tweeted a link so that others could also donate for the cause. All right, all right, I get the point, Mr. Perfect!

I think about walking out of my gate straight onto Juhu beach and throwing our sea water over myself, but visions of being drenched in floating poop and leftover garbage doesn’t seem like such a good idea. I ask the man of the house to pay my share of the money for not taking up this challenge and focus on crawling out of my bed.

19th August 2014
The Domestic Situation… writes Twinkle Khanna

People inherit a lot of things from their parents. These can range from facial features to diamonds and emeralds; I have apparently inherited a splendid member of my mother’s trusted staff.

It has been an exhausting day and all I want to do is eat some good food and crash. I change into my pretty pink kaftan and sit at the dining table. I have made chicken tikka, salad and mutton seekh kabab. I ask my Man Friday to put some kebab in my plate and he very enthusiastically scoops up two. I turn my head to see what the man of the house is trying to show me on his iPad and plonk! I feel something in my lap. With mounting horror, I look down only to see the inevitable. There, in my lap, on my pretty pink kaftan, are two enormous pieces of kebab, two phallic bits of meat. I proceed to bang my head on the chair repeatedly till I calm down, before asking him to lend his invaluable assistance to some other member of the family.

8th July 2014
Take A Tumble… writes Twinkle Khanna

9 am: I am sitting on my bed, sipping coffee and enjoying the idea of doing absolutely nothing, when my son barges in and declares that I have to go zip lining with him.

Technically, zip lining is riding a wire that is tied between two distant points very high up in the air. You get into a harness, send a prayer up to whatever God you believe in, let go and hope that you will reach the other end in one piece.

I put away all thoughts of lazing on the beach, reading a new book about spaceships and aliens on my iPad and decide to give ‘Mother India’ some stiff competition in sacrificing my needs before the needs of my offspring.

 12th June 2014
Fly away to the moon, writes Twinkle Khanna

7th June: Every June we pack up our house, throw everything we can find in massive suitcases and head off on our annual vacation.

This year, we have three extra bags, which carry all the essential requirements of a very tiny person: the baby. How can an 11-kilo baby need 85 kilos of things is a calculation that would involve equations of relativity that I can’t solve. All I can do is make lists and go on packing.

I call my mother desperately, asking for her help. She arrives in half-an-hour, and instead of assisting me with my mundane task of organising diapers and matching hairbands, decides that all the paintings in my house have to be rearranged at this very moment.

I am standing helplessly in the midst of six suitcases and she has badgered my staff to drop everything they are doing, including last minute washing and ironing, and are now all busy drilling holes in my walls. Grrrr…

6th May, 2014
An apple a day, writes Twinkle Khanna

✍11 am: I am peering at carpentry bills half written in Hindi, a few gibberish English words and the rest in what could be Swahili when I start seeing messages on my iPhone like ‘oh t she is so cute, I just saw on Facebook’. Wondering if my friend has seen the picture I posted of a French coffee cup and has decided to forgo the rules of grammar, I ignore it and go back to my bills.

Ping! Another message, ‘she looks just like you ringlets and all’.

Time to investigate…

I go to my Facebook page and in sheer horror discover that there is a video of the baby and me posted on my page.

Flashback: 9 am: The baby is running around in her grandmother’s house, she is snatching my lime juice, she is throwing peanuts on my mother-in-law, she is rattling the TV remote, she is climbing on our dog, in other words she is driving me crazy and in order to calm her down I give her my phone.

End result: She has randomly jabbed a few buttons, managed to hit bull’s eye and posted this video on Facebook; where I am in my 11-year-old nightgown with toothpaste in my hair, holding the saintly looking (Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde) baby; pointing at the camera and saying, ‘Show me your belly button, Show me your belly button.’ again and again.

If the man of the house ever wants sole custody of the children he can produce this video in court to prove that I am unstable, on drugs and undisputedly deranged.

I quickly delete the video but not before 720 people have seen it on my (so far only work related) ‘The White Window’ page.