Sonu Nigam sells agricultural land parcels worth Rs 1.95 crore in Raigad: Report

Singer Sonu Nigam has sold agricultural land parcels worth Rs 1.95 crore in Maharashtra’s Raigad district through four separate transactions registered on April 7, 2026, according to property registration records reviewed by CRE Matrix. The parcels, spread across more than 1.9 hectares of paddy fields in Mauje Savele in the Karjat region, were acquired by a mix of investors and local buyers. The cluster of transactions reflects continuing demand for agricultural land in areas within driving distance of Mumbai, where interest in agri-tourism and green energy-linked land use has been rising. The largest transaction involved a 0.718-hectare parcel identified as Hissa No. 1B. It was purchased for Rs 75 lakhs by Anil Prabhaker Kadu, Nitin Prabhaker Kadu and Anthony Thomas George Vaz. The deal attracted a stamp duty payment of Rs 4.5 lakhs. In another transaction, Nitin Prabhaker Kadu acquired a 0.607-hectare portion marked Hissa No. 1A for Rs 50 lakhs, with stamp duty amounting to Rs 3 la...

‘I’m not a saint’: Abel Ferrara on his wild career, rehab and nightclubbing with Donald Trump

The last time our writer interviewed him, the drugged up director dozed off then asked for coke. Now sober, he reflects on #MeToo, Italian fascism and his fight for the final cut

The last time I met Abel Ferrara, he dozed off in the middle of our interview then woke up and asked me to score him some coke. It was 1996, and he was in the UK promoting his gangster drama The Funeral – which the actor Vincent Gallo alleged Ferrara had been too blitzed on crack to direct properly – and his vampire horror The Addiction. He was on a roll, his reputation fortified by King of New York, starring Christopher Walken as a flamboyant crime boss, and the gruelling Bad Lieutenant, with Harvey Keitel as a bent junkie cop. Ferrara was the scuzzball Scorsese: no matter how celebrated he became, he never shed the patina of grime from his early days as the star and director of porn film The Nine Lives of a Wet Pussy and the infamous “video nasty” The Driller Killer.

“You were the guy I fell asleep with?” he gasps now from his bright, high-ceilinged living room in Rome. He is calling via Zoom, his laptop resting on a shelf so he can pace around as he speaks, drinking from a bottle of San Pellegrino that he clutches by the neck. “You’re the guy? I’m sorry, man! Really, really.” Then he switches tack. “You let me down! You were 24, living in London, and you didn’t know where to score?” He shakes his head in disbelief. “All right. So where could we get some now?” A sandpapery cackle fills the air as he rocks on his heels. His hunched posture and jutting jaw make him the spit of the cartoon dog Muttley. He laughs like him, too.

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