Janhvi Kapoor is increasingly becoming a preferred face for luxury brands as fashion visibility, digital influence and aspirational appeal reshape celebrity marketing strategies.
In a brightly lit classroom at a government secondary school in Nashik, a 14‑year‑old girl sits before a graphics tablet, her fingers tracing the contours of a character she is designing for a mobile game that does not yet exist. The software she is using—Blender, an open‑source 3D‑modelling tool—is the same software that professional animators use in the studios of Mumbai, Bengaluru, and Hyderabad. The curriculum she is following was developed by the Indian Institute of Creative Technologies, the national centre of excellence that was established in Mumbai in 2024 to anchor the government's AVGC‑XR talent strategy. Her teacher, a 26‑year‑old who was trained in a six‑month intensive programme at the IICT, is one of approximately 3,000 master trainers who have been deployed across the country since the Content Creator Labs programme became operational in January 2026. The girl's parents, a municipal clerk and a homemaker, have no idea what a "3D modeller" is. They know only that their daughter has been offered a paid internship at a gaming studio in Pune, starting next summer, and that the internship could lead to a job that pays more than either of them has ever earned.
— On the morning of May 28, two days ago, the Ministry of Electronics and Information Technology released a 217‑page draft of legislation that will, if enacted, fundamentally reshape the relationship between artificial intelligence and the Indian state. The Artificial Intelligence (Regulation and Governance) Act, 2026—the "AI Act," as it is already being called—is the most ambitious regulatory intervention in the technology sector that any democratic government has attempted. It proposes to ban certain categories of AI‑generated content, including non‑consensual deepfake pornography and AI‑generated child sexual abuse material. It mandates that all AI‑generated or AI‑assisted content—images, videos, audio, text—that is published or distributed in India be watermarked or labelled in a way that identifies its synthetic origin. It creates a new statutory authority, the Artificial Intelligence Regulatory Authority of India, with the power to license, audit, and sanction the developers and deployers of high‑risk AI systems. And it imposes criminal penalties—including imprisonment—for the most serious violations of its provisions.
Maddock Films is emerging as one of Bollywood’s most reliable production houses through franchise building, disciplined budgets and a deep understanding of evolving audience preferences.
AP Dhillon’s international growth reflects a larger transformation in the music industry, where independent Indian artists are increasingly building global audiences without relying on traditional Bollywood pathways.
Sobhita Dhulipala’s growing luxury-fashion presence highlights how celebrity influence is shifting from box-office success toward cultural credibility, aesthetic identity and audience perception.
In the summer of 2022, a hexacopter carrying a small package of medicines lifted off from a government hospital in the Vikarabad district of Telangana and flew approximately 15 kilometres to a primary health centre in a remote village that was inaccessible by road during the monsoon. The flight, conducted under a special exemption from the Directorate General of Civil Aviation, was a proof‑of‑concept: a demonstration that an unmanned aerial vehicle could deliver essential medical supplies to a population that was cut off from the conventional logistics network. The drone was operated by a Bengaluru‑based startup called Skye Air Mobility. The flight took 18 minutes. The same delivery by road would have taken four hours. The proof of concept was, by any measure, a success. And then, for three years, nothing happened. The regulatory framework that would allow such flights to scale did not exist. The startups that had developed the technology waited, their drones grounded, their investors impatient, their potential customers—the hospitals, the e‑commerce platforms, the food‑delivery companies—frustrated by the gap between what was technically possible and what was legally permissible.
Some of cinema’s most emotional moments are not about losing people but about losing dreams, memories and years of sacrifice represented through homes, objects and personal spaces.
The video appeared on a Tuesday evening in March, uploaded to a fringe pornography site and then, within hours, circulated across WhatsApp groups, Telegram channels, and X. It showed a famous Bollywood actress—one of the most recognisable faces in the country, a woman whose image had been licensed to a dozen major brands, whose endorsement portfolio was valued at over ₹200 crore—engaged in an explicit sexual act. The video was, of course, entirely fabricated. The actress's face had been digitally mapped onto the body of a performer in an existing pornographic video using deepfake technology—the same generative‑AI tools that can now produce photorealistic synthetic media with a sophistication that makes detection difficult and attribution nearly impossible. The actress's legal team sent takedown notices to every platform that was hosting the video. Most of them complied, eventually, but the video had already been downloaded, copied, and re‑uploaded thousands of times. It is still circulating. It will probably circulate forever.
On a Tuesday morning three weeks ago, in a hermetically sealed cleanroom on a 1,200‑acre campus in Gujarat's Dholera Special Investment Region, a robotic arm lifted a 300‑millimetre silicon wafer from a sealed pod and placed it into a lithography machine. The machine—a deep‑ultraviolet scanner, manufactured by ASML and imported from the Netherlands under the technology‑transfer agreement that had taken four years to negotiate—etched the first patterns onto the wafer's surface. The wafer moved through a series of processing stations: deposition, etching, ion implantation, chemical‑mechanical planarisation. Forty‑eight hours later, it emerged as a finished 28‑nanometre chip—the first semiconductor ever manufactured on Indian soil by a commercial fabrication plant. The chip was not cutting‑edge by the standards of TSMC's 3‑nanometre process, but it did not need to be. It was a proof of concept: India, which had spent decades trying and failing to build a domestic semiconductor industry, could finally make a chip.