mads ranting

Is the vedict of man applicable to God?

2010-09-29T22:52:00.000-07:00

Ram wasn't born on that janmabhoomi. He was born in your heart, in your faith, and in your belief. If ONE act of destruction is equal to an attack on HIM, there's something wrong with your faith, not the act. So, like an advertising slogan says, move on.

If this post were a person, what clothes would it wear?

2010-08-11T23:11:00.000-07:00

I was at a research the other day. The type where a questionnaire is above all else, including the answers. Where the researcher cuts the respondents short in order to move to the next question. We ask bizarre questions to unsuspecting housewives.
If this soap were a person, who would it be?
What kind of clothes would it wear?
Where would you go to meet it? At a café or a pub?
How would you feel if it died?
Somebody tell the paper-setter that nobody cares about the stupid soap.
The housewives were looking at the researcher with complete contempt, sniggering at the questions.
Some of them were veterans.
“Mai iss concept ko dus mein se saat doongi.”
And we hadn’t even reached the ranking waala question!
These women had made a career out of being respondents. They were sympathetic to the poor question paper-wielding researcher who sheepishly progressed through the painful questions.
So, these women who attend, say, 4 groups a day as respondents for various products, and are so used to this kind of questions – what must their life be like?

Picture 1:
“Mummy mai yeh bhindi nahi khaoonga. Achhi nahi hai.”
“Agar yeh bhindi insaan hoti toh kaun hoti?”
“Toh yeh Rahul hota. Kyonki wo bhi mujhe achha nahi lagta?”
“Toh bhindi, jo ab Rahul hai, wo kis tarah baat karta?”

Picture 2:
“Bahu, zara meri dawai laa do.”
“Babuji, iss dawai ka aapki zindagi mein kya role hai?”
“Pagli, yeh mere blood pressure ko control karti hai na.”
“Babuji, kal se yeh dawai aapko na mile toh aapko kaisa lagega?”

Picture 3:
“Thodi shakkar milegi?”
“Agar tumhe shakkar se nahane ko mile, toh kya tum try karogi?”
“Shakkar se bhala koi nahaata hai?”
“Agar main kahoon ki ek naya sabun aa raha hai jisme shakkar ke crystals hain, toh kya tum us-se nahaogi?”

So, dear researcher, bring on the questions. Who cares about the answers anyway?

How to write a letter in Telugu

2010-06-14T20:40:00.000-07:00

Respected (never use ‘dear’ for elders) Uncle,
I hope you and (insert family details - eg. aunty and the children) are fine. By the grace of (insert God of choice - eg. Lord Balaji) we all are fine at home (I repeat, fine at home). I pray to (again, insert God of choice) for your health and that of the entire family.
Things are fine at our end. Amma’s joints are much better, thanks to your idea of (insert alternative therapy/home remedy). Naanna’s diabetes also is under control now. What would we have done without you?
I am writing to you to convey the good news. I (have passed with distinction/ have been accepted by reputed American university/ am getting married to a Telugu boy my parents have chosen/ am pregnant/ am pregnant again/ have chosen a suitable match for kanna - insert situation you are in). With the blessings of (insert God of choice again. And you bloody well stick to the same God throughout the letter) everything will go on as planned. We seek your blessings.
With this letter, we are sending tickets for the whole family. (Note: the tickets will be ONE-WAY). Please grace the house with your auspicious presence. Also, the mamidikaaya pachhadi you brought last time is over. Tell (insert uncle’s neighbour’s name) I asked about him/her.
Saashtaang namaskaram to you and aunty. Blessings to the children. Amma and Naanna send you their blessings.
I remain
Your loving niece,
(your name – eg. Bhanupriya, Meghalata, Suvarnaratna or anything but a cool name).

Note: You’ll agree this is not English. Not by any stretch of imagination.

I’m related to people I don’t relate to.

2010-06-08T04:57:00.000-07:00

So said Calvin, the cartoon character. But I don’t think he faced half the problems I do. He wasn’t born in a traditional South Indian family, you see.
Recently, I had to attend a cousin’s engagement ceremony. I rushed straight from Famous to Matunga (where else?). Along with my family, my kanjeevaram and those kilos of gold were caught in traffic. So, in the blasphemous jeans-and-tee avatar, I made an unintentionally dramatic entry.
As I was slinking in, I heard the pandit say, “Sarva mangala maangalye shive, who-is-this-and-why-is-she-here?”
Spewing more venom through her eyes than a planner whose brief one rejects, peddamma, my aunt, said, “Ignore her, panthulu gaaru, she is like that only. What to do? We had to invite her.”
So panthulu gaaru continued the mantras, looking askance at me every now and then. As I was sitting there, head hung low, the most sympathetic of my aunts sat next to me.
“Coming straight from office aa?”
Just as I was about to breathe a sigh of relief, she spat out the words,
“You go to office like this only? Cotton clothes? You don’t have silk t-shirt or something?”
I was about to mutter some explanation but she continued,
“You wear plastic spectacles? At least you can afford gold-rimmed glasses like your uncle’s?”
I took off the specs, “Actually, athai….”
She launched into a harangue, “Whaat actually? Your visiting card has some fancy post no? And your earrings are so small! Your boss is not embarrassed to see you like this? They agree to take you for meetings?”
Quickly, she blew the clarion, and a herd of aunts surrounded me. Within two minutes, I was suddenly looking acceptable. Jeans and tee, 6 huge gold bangles on each hand, huge gold earrings that reached my shoulders, hair parted in the centre and in the parting, a huge golden thingy that covered half my forehead. As you’d know, I have not a single photograph of myself in the ceremony!

My first glimpse of Kolkata

2010-06-01T02:26:00.001-07:00

That city talks to you. At least it did to me. It jeered and sneered at me. Barely 10 minutes away from the airport and on the way to the city, a huge, well-lit artefact pierced the darkness and hit me in the eyeball. What was it - you might wonder. Incredible though it sounds, believe me that artefact was a huge Rubik’s cube. Only Kolkata would have a bloody Rubik’s cube for an embellishment.
“Do you have the IQ to enter these exalted gates?” the city asked of me.
“Look I’m only here for a one-day shoot,” I said to no one in particular. I felt it necessary to explain my presence there. Another 10 minutes and another huge Rubik’s cube looked me in the eye.
“You don’t get it, do you?”
I was suitably daunted. Dotted with yellow amby taxis, the street seemed to shrug me off. “What is Bangla for ‘slow down’?, I screamed in my mind.
Slowly, I gathered myself. It’s just a city like any other – I told myself, unconvincingly. Thanks to multi-national banks and telecom communication inundating the streets, every city looks the same. Airtel, Aircel, Indicom collectively made me feel at home.
But after every few blocks, Kolkata in its real avatar would rear its head up. In the dark distance I saw a huge enclosure with a fancy sign board. Colourful and bright, it kind of cheered me up.
“Looks like this city has an amusement park.” I said aloud.
When I was finally able to see the sign at close quarters, to my horror it said – Science City Amusement Park. Through the clouds in my head, words like observatory, space and planetarium hit me in the temporal lobe.
I could instantly picture bespectacled Bong fathers dangling their kids on their knees and saying, “Bollo, A for Agoraphobia, B for Borborygmus, C for Collywobbles.”
The driver mumbled something in Bong. Considering the only Bong word I knew was Boka*&#@*, I kept shut. Better still, I shut my eyes.
Finally, I heard the driver say, “We’re almost there.”
I opened my eyes, curious to see what Park Street looked like. And another sign assaulted me.
Shakespere Sarani street.
“When was the last time you even mentioned Shakespere in a conversation?” the supercilious street asked me.
I forgot all about the shoot.
“When are we flying back?” I asked my colleague.

Sri Ram Super Mario

2010-05-24T01:28:00.000-07:00

‘So, you tell stories to your little one?’ asked an ageing aunt of me.
With a nod of the head, I got into trouble that very minute.
‘Have you told him about the Ramayana yet?’
‘Have some appams, peddamma’ I tried valiantly.
But she wouldn’t budge.
‘Tell him about Sri Ram, and Laxmana, and Seethamma’ she continued with a wistful look.
I muttered something about getting appams and scurried towards the kitchen.
Look, I have no problems with Sri Ram and family per se.
I grew up praying, and singing all those Sri Ram bhajans.
But I really don’t know what to tell the kid about him.
I usually prepare a story in my head before I actually narrate it to him.
So, I tried whole-heartedly to mentally play back the Ramayana in order to tell him the story.
And you know what I discovered?
The story bears an uncanny resemblance to the Super Mario game.
Level 1: Sri Ram & Co go to school. Kill demons.
Level 2: The aforementioned Sri Ram & Co go with Rishi. Kill more demons. Also break a bow. Get bonus – Seethamma.
Level 3: Go to forest. Kill more demons. And a monkey-king.
Level 4: Look for lost wife. Kill a lot more demons. And then some.
Last level: Face to face with the biggest demon of them all. Kill him. Come home.
Now, how am I supposed to pass on this story?
We worship this guy (I’ve done it all my life).
And yet, he left home because dad said so, left his post and went hunting because wifey said so, threw the wife out because the dhobi said so.
For God’s sake, we’ve got Creative Directors like that.
And we call them spineless.
I don’t know what to tell the kid. I don’t know if I’ve got it all wrong.
So, please excuse me now.
I’ve got to go concoct a story about a crow and a sparrow for tonight.

Apsara Aali lyrics as explained by Kapil Sawant

2010-04-29T01:11:00.000-07:00

“Lavani is sheer poetry”, said Kapil.
“But isn’t lavani supposed to be provocative and raunchy?” I asked.
“Provocative, yes. Raunchy, definitely not” he said firmly.
“Listen to this song. It’s Marathi poetry at it’s best. It’s sensuous, not raunchy.
It sets your imagination soaring. Not a vulgar word. It’s just suggestive. And beautiful’, said Kapil before playing me the song from youtube. He paused after every line and explained me the meaning.
Sometimes, he paused again because I had questions about each word. Patiently, he answered them all.
And thus began my love affair with Marathi poetry. I don’t know if I’ve got the translation right, but I tried.
Here’s the song. Even if you don’t get the lyrics, you can watch it for the mind-blowing choreography, and fabulous music.

Movie: Natrang
Poet: Guru Thakur
Music: Ajay-Atul
Singer: Bela Shende
Choreographer: Phulwa
The beautiful damsel in the video: Sonali Kulkarni (Not the ‘Dil Chahta Hai’ girl)

Komal kaaya ki moh maya
My soft skin is enchanting

Punava chandana nhale
I’m bathed in moonlight

Sonyaat sazale roopyat bhijle
Bedecked in gold, drenched in silver

Ratnaprabha tanu nyaale
I have worn the shimmer of rubies.

Hee natali thatali
I’m dressed up

Jashi umatali chandani rang mahaali
Looking like moonlight has descended on the stage

Mee youvan bijli
I’m a thunderbolt

paahun thizli Indrasabha bhavatali
that has struck the entire court of Indra

Apsara aali Indrapuri tun khaali
Here comes the nymph, straight from the heavens

Pasarli laali ratnaprabha tanu nyaali
Her presence has lit up the earth

Ti hasali gaali chandani rang mahaali
Her moonlit smile has brightened the stage

Apsara aali Punava chandana nhali
Here comes the nymph bathed in moonlight

Chhabidaar surat dekhani, janu hirkani, naar gulzar
My face is so beautiful, I’m a priceless diamond, I’m a rose in full bloom.

saangate umar kanchuki bhapudi mukhi
My blouse (kanchuki), the silent sufferer

sosate bhaar
complains about the heavy burden it has to bear

shelati khunaavi kati
my tiny waistline beckons you

tashi hanuvati, nayan talwar
as does my chin, and my lethal eyes

hee rati madu bharli, daji
she’s the intoxicating goddess of love, dear sir

thinagi shingarachi
she’s the very spark of passion

kasturi darvalali, daji, chook hi varyachi
the fact that her fragrance has intoxicated the air is the wind’s fault, not hers.

Hee natali thatali
Jashi umatali chandani rang mahaali
Mee youvan bijli paahun thizli
Indrasabha bhavatali
Apsara aali Indrapuri tun khaali
Pasarli laali ratnaprabha tanu nyaali
Ti hasali gaali chandani rang mahaali
Apsara aali Punava chand nahali

The case of the disappearing choti

2009-11-04T22:15:00.000-08:00

When I was a kid, I always had my hair tied into two chotis. Like all the other girls I knew. And aunts. And grannies. Tying a choti was a ritual, the time for mother-daughter bonding. Twice a day, choti- time was when all the chit-chat would happen.
The little girls had two plaits and the older women had one. Some insecure women needed a rubberband at the end of their chotis. Most women didn’t. They just left it like that. Those were the days beauty quotient was measured by the length of your choti.
And if you think the choti was unfashionable, think again. Nowadays when you have a particular hairdo, you’re stuck with it till your next haircut. There’s scarcely anything you can do. But chotis were so very versatile. To start with, you could experiment with parting your hair. Three different looks just with the plain choti – centre parting, side parting and no parting. Tie a high choti for the no-nonsense look that, despite its sternness, highlights your sharp features. Or a loose choti for the casual, relaxed look. Two chotis, I think, were the I’m-still-a-little-girl look.
All this just with the plain choti. There was this neighbor who could tie some 14 different kinds of chotis. Every girl in the area would go her in case of any function. Strangely, those weren’t times anyone charged for stuff like that. It was just. “Bhabhi, choti bana do.”
Me, I know 3 types of them. The regular choti that’s tied inside out, the ulta choti that’s tied outside in, and of course the french plait. We all called it the ‘Sagar choti’ because Dimple Kapadia had worn it in the film ‘sagar’. I never got to see the movie (it was for adults only) but I know the sagar choti very well. Every shaadi, the women wanted the sagar choti.
And the choti made for really cool hairdos, you know. You could put little flowers, one at each intersection in the choti. Or you could have a gajra run along the length of the choti. Wannabes had to pin the gajra. The real cool babes would simply pass the gajra expertly through the choti itself, no pins needed. Talking about cool babes, remember the choti length : sexiness ratio we spoke of earlier? So the cool thing was to have a choti-supplement so your hair appeared longer than it was. Nakli hair was the hot accessory. And that long, colourful thingy with little bells at the end. I think it’s called ‘paranda’ in Punjabi. Strangely I never found out the Telugu word for it.
But then, most Telugu hotties didn’t need it. They had seriously long chotis. I remember this wedding I’d been to where this girl had a choti that reached her ankles. Her mother was beaming all evening as several ‘aunties’ queued up to have a word with her.
With long chotis you had even more options. Tie the choti into a bun, so it looks really fancy. Or better still, tie a round bun with the choti coming out of its centre. What styles there used to be!
When you were getting intimate with a girl, the first step would be to pull her choti to tease her. Holding hands came much later. And there were other things people did, like tying the choti to the bench etc. All in all, the choti was an integral part of the scenery.
Today it’s disappearing real fast, don’t you think? I think the last time chotis were hot, they were on the heads of Sridevi and Jaya Prada. After that, they went extinct. Recently I actually sat and saw a bollywood song on tv because Sonam Kapoor had a choti. It was the Masakali song, I think.
In my family, there was only one choti-waali aunt left. She was in Hyderabad. She came to Mumbai to see us after a long, long time. The first thing I noticed about her was the clip holding her shoulder length hair in place. There goes the last of the chotis, I thought.
I guess there will be a time when, like all fads, it’ll be back. And little girls will say (as their mothers tie their chotis, of course) , “Ma, tell about those barbaric times when women never tied their hair.” Then, 'letting your hair down' will again become a relevant phrase.

Sad

2009-08-23T21:43:00.000-07:00

This saddened me. It's a piece about Amir Khan - a private citizen - and his wife. Apart from their grief, what's really sad is that this bit is under a section called 'entertainment'.
I don't know if it's anybody's fault. Maybe it's just regular functioning, you know. When you get a bit of news, you just pick a category and put it there, i guess.
I don't know if sensitivity is to be expected out of the guy who must've already been bleary-eyed while listing it.
It's just sad.

I miss leftovers

2009-06-16T22:19:00.000-07:00

When I was a kid, leftovers were a part of life. They were always there. Not only were they delicious, they also signified the attitude of the house. I grew up in a family where the kitchen was always the centre of activity. Always occupied by at least three ladies (a mix of aunts and grandmothers), it was more organised than most offices are.

They worked in cohesion like a football team. And took over beautifully when one was unwell (or not in a position to enter the kitchen, if you know what I mean). Together they would chop and grind, mix and fix, maybe sing along as they worked, exchange stories & gossip. The kitchen was the sanctum sanctorum. You couldn’t enter it without a bath. You couldn’t even go near it wearing slippers. You wouldn’t dare leave your hair untied in the kitchen. The aunts and grannies were worse than the security guards at the Inorbit Mall.

And there was always plenty of food. We never had biscuits or readymade snacks at home. We were always equipped with raw materials like batter, chutneys, rawa and what-not. Should a guest suddenly arrive, it would take exactly 5 minutes to conjure up a steaming hot snack. Something or the other was always happening in the kitchen. The coffee filter was always dripping aromatic concentrated drops, lying in wait for a guest or a simple chit-chat session.

Coming back to the leftovers. We always cooked in huge quantities. Because we never knew when an aunt, uncle, cousin or visitor would drop in. The rotis were never counted as they were made. ‘Counting them brings bad luck’ they told us. The rice was always excessive. Nobody who came at mealtime was allowed to leave without eating. And we’d invariably have leftovers.

Our mothers and aunts would never let food go waste. They always knew what to do. My most favourite dish was the ‘roti ka laddu’. The leftover rotis were crushed and mixed with ghee and jaggery. And then rolled into little laddus. The most heavenly thing I’ve ever eaten. And these laddus are best made with leftover rotis because they’re slightly crisp and easy to crush. Doesn’t work with fresh rotis. Take my word, I’ve tried.

And the other yummy thing was rice. Mixed with curds and a little ‘tadka’ over it. Mind-blowing stuff. My grandma did various things with rice. Tomato-rice, chutney-rice, pulihaara. Those were breakfasts to die for.

And all our meals were in the kitchen. The journey from the kitchen to another room would mean the food cooled off by half a degree. And that was not acceptable. The rotis would be straight off the tawa. We sat on these little wooden thingies. I don’t know what they’re called in angrezi. The word is ‘Peeta’ in Telugu, ‘Patlo’ in Gujarati, and ‘Paat’ in Marathi.

Even in a place like Bombay we chose houses with decent-sized kitchens where at least three women could work easily. But now things are different. The food is cooked in exact quantities. Cooks have taken over. Unexpected visitors don’t drop in anymore. Even our closest people call before coming. The kitchen is stocked with ready-to-eat stuff. The dosa batter is mixed in planned quantities. And I miss the leftovers.

Promotion Commotion

2009-05-12T22:32:00.000-07:00

I’ve been following these promos a few brands have been doing. First ball ka captain, star of the match and what not. It all sounds blasphemous to me. I firmly believe some things are sacrosanct and cannot be tampered with. You can’t get to stand in the field amidst national and international players just because you use a product. That privilege has to be earned through sheer hard work. Obviously the marketing managers think otherwise.

I’m wondering what else this world will come to.

One day Tendulkar will call home, “What’s for dinner, honey.”

“Baigan ka bharta, sweetie.”

“But you know I’m allergic to baigan, loved one. Or do you like me better with a zillion blisters all over?”

“I know, silly. But Kishen Khubchandani likes baigan ka bharta. So that’s what we’re gonna eat.”

“Kishen who?”

“The winner of Visa Visit Sachin contest. He’s coming tonight remember?”

“Never mind. Have you brought the kids from school?”

“No. But they’re on their way.”

“ALONE?”

“Don’t be silly, lord and master-blaster. Gurpreet Gill is bringing them.”

“What…who?”

“The winner of the Chevrolet Drive Your Favourite Cricketer’s Kids Home From School contest.”

I wonder what other sacrosanct areas consumers will pollute.

Use Castrol Motor Fuel and drive the Chandrayaan 2. If ‘drive’ is the right word.

Google search users get to head CBI for a day.

Hindustan Times readers get to sit through the ballot counting.

Thums up drinkers get to present the Param Vir Chakra.

Ford drivers get to drive one of the tankers in the republic day parade.

Zippo users get to ride with the firemen when they’re on the job.

Saffola users get to attend a bypass. And maybe insert the first vein flow in the patient.

Revlon users get to visit Shabarimala.

Disclaimer: All the names and brands mentioned above have simply been put because they came to my mind. None of them has anything to do with me or this post. However I have no objection to any of them using these ideas for promos.

Hate speech: innovative use of media

2009-03-31T01:32:00.000-07:00

This is a brilliant new innovation guaranteed to get you noticed. Vodafone used it, reality shows use it and now a certain young man has used this device to go from ‘unnoticed’ to ‘most talked about’ in no time.

Vodafone did this little promotion. Two actors would quarrel loudly in a public place. And when a crowd gathered, they showed this placard saying ‘For more drama come to Rang Shankara theatre festival.’ They won awards.

Our reality shows had dipping TRPs till the judges started bickering on screen. Somebody walked out, somebody yelled at the other. And suddenly they started getting noticed.

Big brother works on this premise completely. The show is nothing without all those celebrity jhagdas.

Who can we blame really? The TG loves all this.

Haven’t we seen several people gather when any two people pick a fight on streets or railway stations?

The young man in question simply used this media innovation to his advantage. Why else would a boy with a Parsi dad and Sikh mom go passionately pro-hindu all of a sudden?

Logan logo

2009-03-19T23:08:00.000-07:00

Yesterday we were caught in a traffic jam. There was a Logan straight ahead. I was looking intently at the behind of the car.

The patidev spouts, “Looks like an @%$*#$@.”

I’d have fallen off the seat but for the belt.

“Language, honey! There’s a kid in the backseat.”

He continues, “But it really does. You’re looking at the logo, aren’t you?”

He knows me too well. I sure was looking at the logo on the behind of the car.

And I hate to admit that it does look somewhat.. er.. anatomical. It’s even placed so strategically, you know.

“It’s diamond-shaped,” I valiantly tried to defend the guy who designed it.

“Only the hole is. The rest of it looks…”

“Alright, alright.”

Even through the stony silence, I could hear him laugh out loud in his mind.

“Can’t we move away from this car?”

Now the chuckle was audible.

“No place.”

Of course I needn’t tell you that now every time there’s a jam, the beloved specially looks for this car and stops right behind it. He looks for Meru cabs to follow when traffic is slow moving.

And I seriously think that car needs to put on a pair of trousers.

What’s the problem with Slumdog winning at the Oscars?

2009-02-25T23:08:00.000-08:00

I’ve heard enough about how ‘Jai ho’ isn’t Rehman’s best stuff. I’ve also heard people say ‘Slumdog isn’t Oscar material’. And that Boyle hasn’t depicted India correctly. And that it’s all wrong. Top Bollywood celebrities say this too.

It’s like the people of Kazakhstan saying Borat shouldn’t have got an Oscar nomination. I mean, it’s an American award show. Unka director, unka film, unka award. Why should we object to what wins over there? And they are the TG, not we. So what’s the problem if it appeals to them?

Imagine Switzerland reprimanding the Chopras for misrepresenting their country. “Nobody sings songs here,” I can almost hear them saying. The Chinese could’ve gotten angry when Circuit, in Munnabhai MBBS, calls the Chinese tourist “Hakka noodle”. And we were roaring with laughter in the movie halls. Was the guy even Chinese?

Aren’t there hajaar such ‘misrepresentations’ in our films? Like the ‘Pretty woman’ song in Kal ho na ho. Do firang neighbours in Manhattan follow suit when an Indian guy breaks into a song-and-dance number?

Of all the people, do we have any right to talk about countries being misrepresented in a film? Ha! Apne girebaan mein jhank ke dekho, bollywood.

I’m happy for Rehman. And for Rasool Pookutty. If ‘Jai ho’ doesn’t go well with you, celebrate this because doors are now thrown open to Indian artists who want to interact with Hollywood. Celebrate anyway. Way to go, Rehman!

I’m allowed to kiss in public now.

2009-02-12T23:42:00.000-08:00

“Pucker up, honey.” I say to the better half, who almost chokes over his morning tea.

“Where shall we kiss? The gateway or the beach?” I continue.

Just when the hubby thought he was used to the mad ways of his ad-woman wife…

In response to the quizzical brows, I add, “You see, the Delhi High Court says we’re allowed to kiss in public. It’s legal and all.”

“I didn’t know the Delhi High Court is so interested in your life, or mine for that matter,” he quips.

The battle of wits has begun.

“They say it’s okay for married people to kiss in public,” I explain.

I see the mischievous grin that made me fall in love with him, stretch across his face.

“Do they specify that the two people have to be married to each other?”

One-all.

I’m glad the Delhi HC approves but I’m wondering if couples – married or otherwise – make elaborate kissing plans etc.

Imagine a daily planner like this.

1 pm dentist appointment.

2.15 pm kiss

2.30 pm meeting

Correct me if I’m wrong but I always thought a kiss is something that happens on the spur of the moment. It’s just a demonstration of affection and isn’t really that big a deal.

They ’re saying it offends the people around. It’s against our culture. Valentine’s Day is against our culture. Anything to do with love is against our culture.

Picture the moral police being thrown back into history.

They arrest Krishna and Radha because they’re not married. In fact, Krishna is married to Rukmini and Radha to Ayan.
Prevent the worship of the Shiva linga. We all know why.
Send Vatsyayana to the gallows for voyeurism. And set fire to the book.
Sue Menaka for immoral conduct.
Have a dharna outside Durga’s residence to tell her she ought to be in the kitchen, not outside destroying asuras.
Order Kaamdev and Rati to shut shop. Maybe confiscate the bow and arrow?
Ostracize Vishnu for turning into Mohini. And sue him for immoral intent.

And after all this, tell these individuals that they have no place in Indian culture.

Luck by chance is the thinking man’s Om Shanti Om

2009-02-01T21:31:00.000-08:00

A very well made film about real things and real people. It has the classy style of execution that comes naturally to Zoya Akhtar. Surprising a film that revolves around Bollywood can be made without really going over the top. Subtle, sensitive execution with delightful, Wodehouse-like humour.

Beautifully etched characters which are so real, we actually identify with them. Though Zoya has used all her Bollywood contacts, she has done so in a suave manner. They all fit in well with the storyline as against being crammed in one song. And they are not the highlight of the film, only part of it. That’s what’s beautiful.

It’s the story of a Delhi struggler who makes it to the top, and how he reacts to the heady glamour and success. Farhan Akhtar, like the protagonist of the film, is brave enough to play the lead guy with shades of grey. The film revolves not around Bollywood but human beings. In fact one of the characters says, “Don’t call us Bollywood. We are the Hindi film industry.”

It is a satire around how success changes the attitude of a person as well as that of the people around him. And, I know this is a spoiler, but I have to say, I have just seen SRK’s most meaningful role. That was goose-pimply.

The casting, methinks, was perfect right from Vikram (Farhan Akhtar), which nobody else could've done better to Rolly (Rishi Kapoor) the producer who relies heavily on the heavens. And what I loved the most was Anurag Kashyap playing the film writer. There's this hilarious scene where Nikki can't pronounce 'khoon' and the exasperated writer finally changes it to 'murder' in the 'oh-so-difficult dialogue'. He says "Murder kar do" or something like that.

Overall, it was a tad long but I ain’t complaining. I want to go see it again. A couple of times. Just to enjoy the extremely well-written dialogues. No slapstick moments, no hamming and no sugary ending. Comedy that brings a smile to the face.

All in all, if Luck By Chance were an ad, it would be the Hutch (boy and dog) ad. Loved by the masses and the classes.

Barkha Dutt strips

2009-01-28T23:54:00.000-08:00

I’m so afraid of being sued by Ms. Dutt, I can’t stop shivering. Which is why I’m writing a headline that may have several meanings. One of which could be that she reveals her inner self. No legal problems here.

Also, I am NOT accusing Barkha of doing anything unethical. I’m not saying she’s inhuman. I do not intend to say she’s a blot on the name of journalism. And I definitely don’t think she ought to have her head examined.

Now I’m simply pasting the unconditional apology of a blogger, after retracting his post on NDTV and Ms. Dutt. I’m perfectly within my legal rights, I think.

I don’t even want you take the effort of clicking the link.

Unconditional Withdrawal of my post "Shoddy Journalism" dated November 27th 2008

Mon, 26 Jan 2009 at 00:00 • Chyetanya Kunte • Filed under Uncategorized

I, Chyetanya Kunte, hereby tender an unconditional apology to Ms. Barkha Dutt, Managing Editor, English News, NDTV Limited and to NDTV Limited, for the defamatory statements I made regarding Ms. Barkha Dutt and NDTV Limited, in my post titled "Shoddy Journalism," dated November 27th 2008, on my weblog at www.ckunte.com.
I have come to the conclusion that my post contained untrue and defamatory statements and that I have expressed myself in a disproportional manner. As a result, I have agreed with Ms. Barkha Dutt and NDTV to publish this statement as a means of settlement. I did not have the right nor the factual evidence to accuse Ms. Dutt and NDTV of the acts that I alleged in my weblog.
Consequently, I hereby repudiate and withdraw my post dated November 27, 2008 titled "Shoddy Journalism" and, more specifically, the following allegations / statements made in the post titled "Shoddy Journalism" namely:

a lack of ethics, responsibility and professionalism by Ms. Dutt and NDTV Limited;
that Ms. Dutt and NDTV's reporting at the scene of the Mumbai attacks during November 2008, resulted in jeopardizing the safety and lives of civilians and / or security personnel caught up in and / or involved in defending against the attacks in Mumbai in November 2008;
that Ms. Dutt was responsible for the death of Indian Servicemen during the Kargil Conflict.

In an effort to remedy the damage that my aforementioned weblog post has caused to the reputations of Ms. Dutt and NDTV, I have undertaken to send this apology and withdrawal statement to all the websites that reproduced my post.
I hereby undertake not to repeat the said statements or similar statements against Ms. Dutt or NDTV Limited in the future.

[26.01.09]

Chyetanya Kunte

Now I’m doing another perfectly legal thing by putting up the link to this apology.

http://ckunte.com/archives/withdrawal

And this link to the original article, thanks to google cache

http://reader.feedshow.com/show_items-feed=82acf344ae184d2fd2a94dd3b34582b1

Update: www.desipundit.com

Reservations fuel untouchability

2009-01-23T04:45:00.000-08:00

Reservations are creating a whole new level of untouchability. Remember those pehle waale days na? Where they weren’t allowed to enter villages, temples etc. At least then they had a life in the outskirts. Today is worse. I call it economic untouchablity.

I once worked in a prominent hospital in South Bombay. I was surprised to see patients come and make discreet enquiries about certain doctors. They’d try to figure out from the name whether a particular doctor is Dalit or not. And then I discovered the problem is not their caste. Nobody trusts them. The perception is that they’ve got their degrees through the quota and have no merit. Dalit equals dumb.

I’ve seen the same thing with lawyers. People specifically seek non-dalit lawyers so that they get someone knowledgeable on their case. Which, I think, is why I’ve seen a huge amount of dalit lawyers hanging around those small, insignificant courts.

The worse is with MBAs. I don’t know how companies hire but I’ve seen this issue crop up in discussions.

So far I’m only telling you these few instances that I’ve been witness to. I can’t generalise. And I don’t know how deep-rooted this problem is.

But I often sit and think, and generalisation simply happens. These instances lead me to believe that there’s an untouchability of a far more dangerous kind happening here.

“Quota mein aaya hai. Isko kya knowledge hoga?”

Less work.

Less money.

Lower standard of living.

Can’t afford good schools for kids.

Can’t get big homes or cars.

Is this what Ambedkar wanted? Let’s do the Dalits a favour by getting rid of reservations.

Smoke signals

2009-01-16T02:21:00.000-08:00

Over the years I’ve noticed that the smoking culture of a company tells you all you need to know about it. So when you go somewhere for a job interview, I suggest you spend a few minutes in the smoking area even if you ain’t into the habit.

There’s this place I know of that’s very warm and caring, but it’s very hierarchy-led. And so is their smoking zone. The moment a senior management guy walks in, he automatically looks around for someone of the same level and stands there. If the senior is alone and a junior joins, the biggie slowly starts drifting away till he’s at a safe distance. Sometimes a kid would come out and go back seeing a senior. Better wait till a friend joins. In fact, people have ‘smoking friends’ just like train friends. You’ll always see a certain group of people smoke together.

Even the ‘asking for a light’ thing was a great revelation. Picture this. A middle management guy is standing and a same level guy comes to ask for a light. You’ll see the lighter/matchbox exchange hands. But if this same mid-level guy sees a senior even from afar, he’ll go all the way and hold the lighter for the biggie to light up. The kids don’t even ask for a light (matches come at a cost, you see). They simply use the other’s cigarette to light up.

But hierarchy apart, it’s a caring organisation. So the smoking time is used to chill, crack jokes, cry on shoulders. Advice is shared over a smoke. Sometimes work is discussed ‘off the record’. Sometimes two people smoke in absolute silence but you can see there’s a bond, a sense of togetherness in it.

Also, some good soul brings a lighter and keep it for the janta to use. People thus take turns.

There is this other place I know of which is very cold and water-tight. People keep to their own groups and hide what they’re doing from others. The place strictly works on the sucking-up- to-boss attitude. Even their smoking zone is like that.

People won’t even enter the smoking zone without cronies. It’s like they’re too insecure to even stand and smoke alone. Even the smoking zone is used to preen and look around if there’s somebody you can impress. People are full of the desperate need to constantly look cool.

Gadgets come out over a smoke. It’s cool to smoke with the iphone in your hand, or perhaps, a fancy ipod. The smoking area is used to talk about the latest expensive acquisitions, and to drop names.

I also once saw this strange phenomenon here. Once this uncool looking kid came and asked this guy if he had a cigarette. He didn’t. But as soon as this cool dude came and asked for one, a whole pack miraculously appeared from the said guy’s pocket.

Then again, there’s this organisation I know of that’s absolutely fabulous. I won’t even describe it. I’ll straight go to their smoking zone. Everybody sits with everybody else. You can’t make out the levels and designations in the smoking zone for sure. Cigarettes are hard to get in that area. So people just ask around for cigarettes. And people give them freely. You hear the question ‘Ek ciggie milega?’ answered with, “Ek nahin do milega’.

I’ve seen people part with their last cigarette without even thinking about it. Which, even non-smokers know, is the height of altruism.

And I’ll tell you the best part about this place. Somebody has kept an ashtray in the smoking zone. Not really so much out of civic sense. But so that the housekeeping guy doesn’t have too much trouble cleaning the place. Cool na?

Disclaimer: If you’re stupid enough to think this post encourages smoking, I have nothing to say to you.

Find the maker of Ghajini. Kill him.

2009-01-13T23:04:00.000-08:00

This film looks like it’s made by a guy with a short-term memory disorder. After some 15 minutes, he forgot the plot and meandered into some stupid love-story which wasn’t even interesting. Then after a long time, he probably saw the clapboard, which reminded him of the film he had started to make. So another quick 15 minutes of the action after which the disorder took over again. He even forgot that the movie was over, and went on adding mindless bizarre scenes till someone got fed up and just slapped the credits.

Look, I ain’t too demanding when it comes to hindi movies. I mean I actually liked Rab ne bana dee jodi. So I’m really cool with a romance-drama-gaana-bajaana film. But Ghajini disappointed even the common hindi film watcher in me. No chemistry between the lead pair. That is unforgivable. At least if they had exotic locales and dancing around trees it would have appealed to somebody. Didn’t even have decent music. And as a saadharan Mumbaikar I wanna know – Which AUTORICKSHAW goes to Chinchpokli?

And it doesn’t take an advertising person to laugh at the stupid story. Does Ratan Tata go out on the streets himself to figure out a hoarding? Do CEOs do media buying? And do they send men in black to inconsequential tenants of dilapidated buildings?

And that dumb mahila police afsar could call up the girl and tell her the bad guys are at waiting at her place, but not call the cops? And the stupid girl could call her beau when she knows she’s gonna be killed but not dial 100?

Oh and I forgot about the idiotic medical student. I wanted the end to continue even further and reach the part where she’s thrown out of medical college. When a short term memory disorder patient has forgotten everything, which medical text book teaches you to remind him that he was out to kill someone? And abet the murder?

Never mind this film, people. The whole action a la Dharmendar reminded me of a film called ‘Hukumat’. And it had better songs.

Rab ne bana dee jodi, on the other hand, was quite charming. I simply loved Shahrukh go, ‘Punjab power, lighting up your life jee.” It was so cool to see him uncool.

“Maine kisi ladies se pyar nahin kiya.” Awesome.

And I’m completely willing to accept that she didn’t recognise her own hubby after the makeover. Don’t we fail to recognise our own colleagues after a make-over at times? And it’s not like she spent her days gazing at the hubby. She was so distraught na.

And it’s possible that she changed her mind in the temple scene. Haven’t we seen that beer commercial ‘A moment of clarity’? Maybe it just hit her ki this guy truly loves her and she started loving him back. It’s perfectly alright. And I loved the credits at the end. The photo album was a brilliant idea. And some very good dialogue-writing. Thumbs up.

Kaliyug is cool

2009-01-01T21:43:00.000-08:00

2009 begins, thrusting us even deeper into Kaliyug. ‘Ghor kaliyug’ the elders say, ‘sarv naash’. But I think Kaliyug suits me just fine. Aren’t we all glad we’re born now, in the world of planes, laptops and cellphones?

Which woman would want to be born in Satyug where Sita was accused of falling prey to the Stockholm syndrome (did it exist then)? If Ram were here now, he’d be attacked by so many human rights and naari mukti groups it ain’t funny. And that dhobi guy who apparently instigated Ram against his wife would have been the object of public ire. The media would thrust mikes in his face and ask him for an explanation. Orkut would have hate groups. And the Lord would have to reinstate the queen under public pressure.

And you remember that cute li’l mahabharat scene where the five brothers bring Draupadi home and say, ‘look what we brought, ma!’

And Kunti says, ‘whatever it is, just divide it.”

If that were to happen now, Draupadi would simply have walked up to her and say, “Er, excuse me, ma-in-law dear but I don’t think you can do this to me. Refer to section 498 A of the Indian Penal Code if you don’t believe me.”

And as for the rest of the mahabharat, well, gambling is illegal in modern day India!

Sure those were times when people were to closer to god. And then we had gigantic egos in the form of Rishis who’d go around cursing people at any little thing that annoyed them. Turning innocent people into stones and what not.

Coming to the era of the Rajas and Ranis. Don’t we all know how these kings killed even their fathers and siblings for the throne? Thank god we have the Property Act now!

My father-in-law keeps having these discussions with me about how things were ideal during his time. Ladkis were always well-covered. There was no sex in movies. Thankfully I found some pics of a woman called Nadira. And I chanced to see a few Raj Kapoor movies. I had enough substance to argue. :)

“Look at these whisper, kotex-type ads’, he says.

While I agree they aren’t a great idea, I’d still rather live in this era. At least you don’t have to be shut in a room five days a month. Sleeping on a chatai, eating leftovers or whatever. And the whole khandaan knowing it’s that time of the month for you!

Worse still was the ‘Main kahin ki nahin rahi’ type dogma. Anything happens, the girl has to jump in a well. Father dies, husband dies, in-laws send you back – the kalmoohi has to die.

And there was this ridiculous movie I once saw on cable. Do check it out guys. I’ve googled the name for you – Benaam Badshah. Anil Kapoor rapes Juhi on her wedding night, as she's waiting for the baraat. Wedding's called off, Juhi's barbaad. So what does she do? Smoke him out and marry him.

Trying telling a girl today to marry her rapist! Rock on, Kaliyug. M prouda ya!

Amir Khan – the newest advertising medium

2008-12-29T23:24:00.000-08:00

In my opinion, Amir Khan is the biggest marketing guru. I want to know what his educational background is. Think about this, while all celebrities are still endorsing products, Amir has turned himself into the new-age movie advertising medium.

Sign a film with the guy, and the advertising and promotion are taken care of without any marketing consultants. What bigger medium do you need than the man himself?

This guy is creative director, strategic planner and marketing manager all rolled into one.

Even before the film industry turned into an organised market, Mr. Khan knew the exact value of things like brand identity, the look-feel of the brand, and the art of breaking clutter.

And there’s no question of media space – he does the bloody layout on his own face!

I say forget press conferences, even if he’s on a morning jog (or probably peeing at the airport), the people around think exactly of the film he’s doing at that time.

King khan vagairah theek hai, but look at SRK and you have no clue which film the pic is from. On the contrary look at Amir.

But you know the best part? In order to learn about creativity, strategy, branding and marketing, you no more have to go to a school. All thanks to this Khan. This guy single-handedly beats the IIM of A!

Santa Clause

2008-12-23T01:22:00.000-08:00

My little one is three now. So the hubby and I decided it’s time to introduce him to Christmas, and therefore, to Santa.

So we told him about baby Jesus, which he wasn’t interested in. He doesn’t like babies because his mother holds them and coos to them. Which is his sole right, never to be shared. So that’s that about baby Jesus.

Then we introduced him to the Christmas carols. He liked ‘Jingle bells’ and made an attempt to sing along. I think they must have taught him this one at school too.

The last weekend we were at the mall and we showed him Christmas trees complete with ornaments and all. We told him all about the stockings and gifts.

And then we saw this guy dressed as Santa at one end of the mall. The father and I held his hands and made a dash. Both of were so excited and, with twinkling eyes, we said, “Look, this is Santa!”

Completely exuberant, we looked at the li’l one for a reaction. And what do we see? He’s horrified. He shrieks at this hideous creature in red with a long white beard and a mask on his face.

Slowly, we explain him that this is the guy who brings gifts to children. And that he’s quite harmless. We shook hands with Santa to prove it but that didn’t pacify the kid.

Only when Santa fished out a candy did the kid somewhat warm up to him.

More candies followed and he shook hands with Santa.

“Nice Santa?” I ask, eager for approval.

He looks nonchalantly. “Okay.”

“Can he come home to give you a Christmas gift?”

Pat comes the reply, ‘Only if he promises not to come inside.’

“But he has to put it in the stocking, sweetie.”

“Hang the stocking outside the window.”

A brand to die for

2008-12-16T00:18:00.000-08:00

Haven’t you ever thought of Religion as a brand with the greatest equity?

It’s a product nobody has seen, but it sells like hot cakes. It has multiple brand ambassadors and enjoys complete monopoly. Talk about early indoctrination and catching them young – no other brand has managed such a good job.

Strong brand personality, ardent following – we have it all. They teach us you can’t sell a brand by scaring your TG or by shoving them into the throes of guilt. Well?

Come to think of it. They’ve created an invisible entity that’s supposed to govern all life. And to make sure you believe in it, they’ve created another invisible entity that screws your life and after-life if you don’t believe.

You’ll go to hell if you don’t pray!

Sure, whatever.

And they tell me a brand can’t have a menacing tone of voice.

David Ogilvy said something, na? Ki you keep hammering the brand name so people just go pick up a pack.

Aren’t all the prayers some sort of a brand strategy?

All the prayers I know keep making you repeat stuff like, ‘Lord I believe in you’.

You keep saying it till you actually start believing.

You know how wearing a Nike makes you feel like you’re just gonna do it. And that you’re a winner etc. Maybe Brand religion does that to you in a temple or whatever place of worship. I got a darshan, a glimpse of god. Wowee! I’m a step closer to moksha.

I just sprinkled water all over the home. Yay, it’s pure now!

Religion is a best-seller.

Brand personality? Protector. Protects from er… invisible entity.

There’s no questioning the efficacy. It’s selling bigtime. Don’t we all know about the filthy rich… err.. sorry… rich religious institutions? The sales graphs are sky-rocketing.

Check the benefit. Redemption! And to think we make such feeble attempts at redemption offers.

This one even comes with a brand manual. In print, etched in stone, we have it all.

We’re also talking huge market share here. Maybe 99%. How many atheists do you know?

And it has a Brand following so ardent, people kill for it and die for it!

How will protest marches and candle-lighting sessions help?

2008-12-03T00:49:00.000-08:00

I think protest marches, lighting candles and peaceful demonstrations might just prove detrimental to the health of Mumbai.

As it is we don’t give a damn about the state of the country. If you don’t believe me go ask those women, who are angry at Naqvi’s ‘lipstick’ statement, who Naqvi is. Most of them have no clue. People who are protesting against ‘that rude Kerala CM’ don’t even know his name.

Worse, there exist people who can’t sing the complete national anthem and who don’t know the name of the current president of India. The only news most people are aware of is what is circulated on campus, office and facebook. Which is only the sensational stuff.

People, we are not a politically aware nation. And definitely not a politically conscious city.

“Stupid politicians ki wajah se we can’t guard our coasts,” is the general consensus. How many know that this is a difficult task even if we had the most righteous politicians.

Today Mumbai is angry. India is furious. We have woken up after so long and at such a huge cost. I don’t know about the rest of the country. But Mumbaikars will find a catharsis in the peace march and get back to work.

People will light a candle and think they’ve done their bit. Now back to office. That’s just what we don’t need right now.

It’s just now that people are registering to vote. The thinking people are yet not convinced that they need to quit office and get into politics if this country has to be managed. We have barely started finding out what’s happening and who’s doing what. We’ve just gotten to know the politicians by their names. We’ve just gotten sensitive to the fact that the army makes far less money than the cricket team. This was always the case. But nobody championed it.

We’re mounting so much pressure that people like Vilasrao Deshmukh are being asked to leave. This pressure, this fire remains to be alive for us to demand action in the country.

I somehow feel these silent protests will pacify us. And we’ll be back to our daily lives the very next day.

But, CM Achutanandan....

2008-12-01T11:01:00.000-08:00

But, CM Achutanandan, Major Unnikrishnan HAS been a major and a dog DID go to his house.
Only, the father drove him away!

Getting cheap thrills out of Mumbai’s nightmare

2008-12-01T03:59:00.000-08:00

Some people are making the most out of the terror attacks. Using them to get noticed, and how.

Like this woman I saw on TV the other day, who lost her friends to the tragedy. The channel said she’s an actor, so I’ll take their word for it. Correct me if I’m wrong but I think the name was Bhairavi Goswami. She went ranting about how she was at the hotel barely an hour before the attacks, and how she’d walked out in a huff post an argument with her boyfriend.

People, I quote her, “I wish I were there at that time. I’d have saved my friends.”

Right Ms. Goswami. Exactly what stopped you from going right back in to save your friends?

The experts took some nine hours to arrive. So you had plenty of time. Maybe we’d have sent the forces back home.

Then there was ‘We – the people’ a show on TV last night. Survivors of the attack were there speaking their hearts out. Many had lost their families. Tempers were flying, heart-rending stories were being exchanged. Barkha Dutt got misty-eyed, and so did I.

Finally, at the end of the programme, she announces that Prasoon Joshi has written a poem on the tragedy. And the entire poem was shown on screen. And even read out. Just when I was such an ardent fan of his. Sigh.

This one you have to see to believe. I actually laughed when I saw the headline. And don't miss the explosive visual. Yes Sunny Advertising. You have now suddenly turned into an aspirational creative hot-shop. Let me know when you’re hiring.

But, Narendra Modi takes the cake. Standing right there amidst all the shooting. Giving speeches right at the barricade. And of course, playing the blame game. Good footage, Modi bhai!

Achha hai. Now candles will sell. If you’re enterprising enough, you could make t-shirts with messages and sell them. Cabbies will earn from all those rides to the Gateway.

And after all that dies down, Mumbai will go back into its habitual trance till another such attack shakes it awake.

God, please keep the anger alive.

The spirit of Mumbai – an advertising gimmick

2008-11-27T09:54:00.000-08:00

You know how you feel so good and so cool in a levis or a nike?
‘Just do it’ you tell yourself.

I think the spirit of Mumbai is just a similar meaningless factor cleverly created by someone working on those Mumbai tourism/festival type campaigns. It’s just the figment of a very good planner’s imagination.

We are resilient – we tell ourselves. After every attack Mumbai gets up, dusts the seat of its trousers and gets on with life.
Resilience, my foot. We just don’t care. We see no difference between a beggars sitting at the station and bloody bodies strewn across the roads.

“Oh your dad died in the Taj firing? Sorry dude. By the way where is the so-and-so file saved on your desktop?”
Our lives go on. We have to get our promotions and admissions, meet our targets and deadlines.

Terrorists are flooding in Kashmir everyday. No problem.
Bangladeshi infiltration in full swing. Arre mere ghar toh nahi aaye na.
Naxalites all over the bloody place. Well, I didn’t call them.
Somebody will come and clean the shit. Yeah right.

The firing is going on even as I type.
Top officers dead. Shraddhanjali de do.
Bodies coming out. Dekh lo, apna toh koi nahin mara na?

Politicians condemn the stuff on TV and go back to their dinners.
Defence heads are helpless because of the above-mentioned.

The Taj is burning up and people are dying.
But the presentation deadline remains unchanged, and the film will be shot nevertheless.

Because most of my executive colleagues never bother to vote.
We vote for people on reality shows and song-and-dace shows.
But we don’t elect our corporators and MPs.
A lot of my friends can’t because they’re away from their hometowns.
We can do our banking over the phone, across lands and seas.
But we can’t vote if we ain’t back home.

And those who can won’t.
Same old problem. Kisko vote karein?

I ain’t here to start a ‘Vote’ campaign.
I’m here to say why the F$%^ don’t we have candidates?
So many passionate people around but nobody wants to get their hands murky.

Aggie Dias turned around a place like JWT in less than a year.
Imagine what a man like could do for the country.
Senthil started a whole ‘yellow rippers’ group on facebook.
Think of how many groups that guy can lead.
‘Hemant Karkare’ fan club anyone?
Piyush put India on the global map. You think he can’t do anything beyond advertising?

And this is only the advertising fraternity I’m talking about.
Rashmi Bansal has the youth eating out of her hands.
Sidin Vadukut is as patriotic and passionate as he’s popular.
We are surrounded by leaders, passionate, intelligent and capable.
We have great minds all around us.
Can we please have someone who’d make us feel like voting?

No solace from Quantum

2008-11-14T04:31:00.000-08:00

This is a glaring example of why we need planning and servicing in every brand exercise.

Quantum looks like it was written hastily by a trainee writer and quickly released patli-gully style in the absence of the CD or even the sup.

Had there been at least a planner involved she’d have told Haggis n co that you can’t be different by simply doing away with the brand identity. Be different by all means, but stick to the core values.

If only this guy had first presented this script to a brand team.

Haggis: Ok guys, check this. The film opens post Casino Royale.

Servicing: Look, you can’t launch a sub-brand for no reason. Plus it’ll have the additional burden of living up to the standard of CR.

(Which, we all know, it didn’t)

H: Eh, tu chupp kar, suit. Tujhe kya pata sequel ke baare mein.

S: Shrug.

H: So then this is a very different kind of script. Pukka Cannes Gold. No ‘Bond. James Bond.’

Planner: But dude, that’s the brand identity!

H: Tum MBA types ka yehi problem hai. This is a creative script.

P: But…

H: Shaddup. So then no intro. No asking for martini etc. It’s so ‘done to death’.

P: (About to say something but shuts up)

H: No saying ‘Shaken not stirred’ etc.

S: But those are the brand values.

H: You can’t restrict creativity with brand values.

S: I want to work on another brand.

H: Go right ahead. Aage suno. No sex either.

S: This is the first time I’ve heard a Creative guy say that! Are you gay?

H: Gay hoga tera baap. So this is a Bond sloshing with emotion.

P: Bond? Emotional?

S: (Pinches P.)

P: Sorry. Go on.

H: No smart-ass funny one-liners.

P: (can’t control himself) But that’s what makes him endearing to the TG.

(on his knees) Please keep those.

H: Chal theek hai. Do chaar daal denge. You haven’t heard the best part yet.

Tada! No gadgets.

At this point, P and S, though ostensibly listening, are quickly keying in their resignation letters.

S: So you’ve told us all that won’t be there. Now tell us what actually will be there.

H: Tum log saala dispatch mein naukri karo. Aise stupid questions poochhte ho.

P: No, no. (wipes beads of sweat). We’re just asking so we know what to tell the client.

H: Hmm. It’ll have loads of action from start to end. Bond kills everybody who comes within his range of vision. Shooting, stabbing, punching and lots of gore.

P: This will look like a Bond on probation cramming in all this violence to get his confirmation.

H: Shaddup, you $%^#$%.

S: No, seriously. This won’t sell. The TG will not like it.

H: F@#$ the TG.

S: Ok. Why don’t you sell this script yourself.

H: Saala phokat ka pagaar khaata hai.

So maybe the film would still have got made. As is. But at least there would be a couple of guys smirking and nudging each other every time Haggis would pass by. At least he wouldn’t be able to even get a cup of coffee from the machine in peace.

Brand Raj Thackeray – A case study

2008-10-24T04:58:00.000-07:00

Remember how the strategy planners talk about ‘brand personality’ and ask you stupid questions? If Mercedes were a person, who would it be, etcetera.

Well I’m thinking the other way round. If Raj Thackeray were a brand, which one would he be? Sprite, I think. MNS dilaaye naukri ki aas, baaki sab bakwaas.

No, seriously. This guy makes for the perfect case study. He entered the market as a ‘me too’ product. Shiv sena definitely had the first mover’s advantage. Enter MNS with the same positioning, same strategy, same everything. So how to gain mindshare?

Positioning:
I have a strong feeling he’s seen the DDB campaign for Avis. “We are no. 2 so we try harder.” We give the Marathi manoos far more than no. 1 does. We not only go after the cabbies and auto drivers but also target the railway exam candidates.

Strategy:
Ambush marketing. When you come in late, you have too much of marketing to catch up on. So, their flags were seen everywhere. In far greater numbers. They were even put up at signals and on the top of hoardings (a first).

Creative communication:
The layouts of their banners were far clearer and made for better visibility. The competition, on the other hand, had pictures of two personalities, a tiger and too much copy. MNS banners had only one picture. And far more compelling lines.

His speeches were far more entertaining, therefore, appealing to the masses. Endearing, maybe? Where the senior Thackeray only had issues to rake up, the younger leader had people to pick at. “Be specific,” says David Ogilvy. This young man had Amitabh and Laloo to talk about. He even made his speeches more audience-friendly by adding mimicry. He actually had the audience in splits. I’ve even see him maro double-meaning lines. Youth-friendly, perhaps?

In fact, he’s done complete 360-degree campaigns. Public transport guys, railway people, shop owners and what not. In fact he even went for on-ground activities. Can you forget the instant changes in signboards all over the city?

And when things started slowing up a bit, a promotional activity. The arrest. (Read – the violence that ensued). And the subsequent bail.

He even went viral. Check youtube if you don’t believe me.

And now; like any good brand; further acquisition, expansion, attracting a greater target audience. I’m referring to the Jet Airways thingy. And he snatched the opportunity from under the competition’s nose. Talk about being in the right place at the right time.
Top-of-the-mind recall. High eyeball count. Heavy visibility. Attracting great tie-ups. Full marks on branding. Effies anyone?

Fantasizing about a celebrity

2008-05-07T01:11:00.000-07:00

Creative Directors are paid to imagine. So, the higher a CD is paid, the more bizarre the imagination is. A look at some of the celebrity ads will tell you how wild the CD is. Fantasizing about Kareena shampooing with Head n Shoulders and Priyanka Chopra bathing with Lux.

Their thinking belies their heavy pay packets. One would think they’ve never seen an affluent life. And also that they’ve never heard celebrities use mainly foreign products and shop abroad even for a pair of bathroom slippers. Here’s how these ad gurus collectively portray the lives of some of the celebrities.

Hrithik Roshan comes home every evening, takes off his John Players shirt and roams around his home in his Rupa Macroman banian. After a while, he strips even that and goes for a shower with Cinthol soap. Then he probably has a snack of Hide n Seek biscuits (dancing all the time, of course), washes it down with Coke and hits the bed.

Hema Malini wakes up every morning, washes down breakfast with water from her Kent RO purifier and straight heads to Bank of Rajasthan to withdraw cash (from her own account, silly).

Rani Mukherjee comes home from a shoot, steps out of her chevrolet aveo, pops in a munch and guzzles a fanta. After which she’s about to the hit the shower but her mom stops her. Mama dear personally hands her a bar of Margo soap and gives her some jargon about how good it is for her skin. All of which the obedient daughter follows completely. (Check the ad, I swear Rani admits all of this on screen.)

Shahrukh Khan is dressing up in the morning. We shall dwell over this procedure for a while. Dressed only in a towel, he pours a torrent of Navratan powder over himself. Then he works on his face with Emami cream (for men). That done, he dresses in a Mayur suit and finally wears his Tag Heuer watch. He then watches Dish tv, while having breakfast. Which, of course, is Sunfeast biscuits and pepsi. After that, he finally leaves for the ‘kya aap paanchvi pass se tez hain’ shoot. In a Santro, of course!

There’s one thing I really wonder. The CDs, we all agree, are letting their imagination run amok. But what are these celebrities doing to themselves? Don’t they stop to think before signing a contract?

Not surprisingly though, there’s one celebrity whose ad portrait, though painted by different CDs, absolutely matches with his real life image.

Amir Khan drinks Coke, wears a Titan watch, talks on a Samsung mobile phone, and drives away in a Toyota Innova. Everything believable. True or not, but definitely possible!

Of course, at the other end of the 'believable' spectrum is Govinda. One look at him and you know it’s perfectly natural for the guy to lagao Navratna hair oil and walk around the streets in a Rupa banian.

You wouldn’t need close scrutiny to realize that there’s a Big celebrity missing from this list. But his ad portrait would make a separate post by itself.

“It’s all your fault”

2008-04-16T04:05:00.000-07:00

Strange how much flack we ad people take for simply working on a brand.

“Tum saalley XXX waaley”, yelled an irate customer of the telecom brand I did ads for, “Kya ad banaate rehte ho. Tumhara network toh chalta hi nahin.”
I think I’ve faced more abuses than the brand managers of the telecom company itself.

A neighbour once called me to tea and simply took off on me. This was when I worked on a detergent brand.
“Bade aaye kapde chamkaane waale. Yeh lo tikiya, jao bathroom mein. Kapde chamka ke dikhao.”
Those who know me are aware that I no more go to anybody’s place for a cup of tea.

This elderly gentleman I met in the elevator started waving an electricity bill in my face.
“Didn’t you make the ad saying so-and-so refrigerator saves electricity? Some jargon about smaller bills. Yeh lo mera bill. Now YOU pay!”

Thankfully, I’ve learnt my lesson and never told anybody about the insurance and mutual fund ads I’ve scripted. Nowadays, whenever anyone asks me which brand I work on, I cleverly change the topic.

I was almost cornered one day, when an elderly aunt insisted on finding out.
Gearing up for yet another lecture I answered, “XYZ biscuits.”

With a wide grin she cheered me up, “Arre yeh toh sabse best biscuits hain. Humaari saari family yehi khaati hai. We love these biscuits!”

I did a collar-up and happily accepted the compliment with a gracious I’m-glad-you-like-them as if I’d made them myself. What the heck! Why not?

Celebrity Advertising

2008-03-12T22:48:00.000-07:00

I had always waited for the day I’d write an ad involving a celebrity. What fun the shoot would be! The glamour, the awe, the casual mentions I’d get to insert in daily conversations.
So, one day the boss beckoned.
“We’re roping in a celebrity to endorse our brand of nuts and bolts.”
The heart whirrs into action.
“So, write a couple of scripts quickly.”
The heart is now beating against the incisors.

Chucking all briefs (including proofreading artworks that have to be released by the same afternoon), I sit in a lonely corner trying to create a Karan Johar kind of ad. For reasons of confidentiality (I shudder to admit openly that I have written the final ad that was aired), let’s call the celebrity, say, Banwarilal.

So I write pages and pages of scripts about Banwarilal using our nuts and bolts everywhere. The final shot would always have the celebrity screwing the final nut in place, and saying, “Gangadhar nuts and bolts – sabse badhiya.”

“Idiot!” yelled the boss, “do you think Banwarilal is a garage boy? He’s the king of romance! How on earth can you show him doing all this?”

“But don’t we have to show him using the product?” I protest.

The boss while trying to recollect why he hired me, bellows, “Who will believe The Banwarilal goes around lagaaving nuts and bolts?”

“But he’s endorsing them, isn’t he?”

The boss’ deep stare penetrates my optic nerve, “Are you trying to challenge my strategy?”

“Not at all”, I back out, “sir.”

“So how do you think we should do this?” I add for good measure.

“Just show him running around trees with a woman. Write a jingle. ON LOVE, NOT NUTS AND BOLTS!”

“Sure, sure, of course. And how do I fit in the product.”

His eyes narrow “Put it in the last shot. And for heaven’s sake don’t make him touch them. Just place them alongside.”

“So, do we just place them in a heap on the floor or something?”

The boss speaks through gritted teeth, “And show Banwarilal’s feet in the final frame!? Put them on a table next to him. In a glass bowl.”

Writer’s block

2007-12-06T00:08:00.000-08:00

Being a writer in the ad world is difficult. Having to accept changes in the copy, or even getting it outright rejected is part of every copywriter’s job. But the kind of changes that are made, and reasons given for rejection, mostly make every writer quiver like an aspen.
There are times when I picture my favourite writers taking their piece of work for a review. And I imagine the kind of things they would hear. Now that I have stopped trembling, I am finally able to write this out.
Listed below are some of my favourite quotes and the reactions, I think, would have ensued.

“She had a penetrating sort of laugh. Rather like a train going into a tunnel.”
No, no, Wodehouse, the analogy is just not correct. It’s difficult to picture. And let me remind you once more that ‘good egg’ is not an appropriate term of appreciation. And I strongly disapprove of the ‘Jeeves’ series. At least try it with different characters.

“Call me Ishmael.”
Look Herman, this is not okay. We need an opening line that is relevant to Moby Dick and his life. Can we have the first line throw in some cues about the sea or ships or something?

“The woods are lovely, dark and deep
but I have promises to keep
and miles to before I sleep
and miles to go before I sleep”
No Robert, you haven’t got it right. And why repeat the lines? It looks like you had nothing better to write, and so just put the last line twice. I’d call that lazy. Change the last line.

“I swear by my life and my love of it that I will never live for the sake of another man, nor ask another man to live for the sake of mine.”
Ayn, my girl, first of all, the sentence is just too long. Cut it into two. Better still; just delete the second half of the sentence. Instead, say ‘nor vice versa’. Let me do it for you. There. Better.

“When all at once I saw a crowd,
a host, of golden daffodils.”
William, I’m not sure ‘host’ is the right word here. Change it to something better.

“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.”
Jane, this reflects a know-it-all attitude. How can you be so sure? It’s not correct to generalise things like this. Changed the beginning of the sentence to “It is generally believed that”.

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.”
No way, Charles. Where is the revolution in this? Where is the tale of two cities? There is a gross disconnect.

“We are crying the oceans in our tears.”
Of course not, Gregory. This is a gross exaggeration in the name of creative liberty. I don’t like this. In fact, I don’t like the story at all. How can a foreigner accept, without any resistance, a name given to him by a common village woman? And want to be known by that name? It sounds too contrived. And Shantaram, of all the names available? For starters, change it to ‘Rahul’.

Satan Santa

2007-11-29T01:44:00.000-08:00

Such cool, wintry mornings these are, na. So Christmassy. Takes you back to school days. This was the time we’d all practise carols. Oh how I loved the carol practice. Especially because we got to skip class for it! And then the final programme the day before the Christmas vacation began. Every year was the same. The ‘Birth of Jesus’ play, carol singing, and finally the Santa act. Somebody dressed as Santa throwing candy to the audience, and all of us scampering after them.
While I take this trip down memory lane, I drag the beloved into the conversation. “Honey, you remember Christmas time back in school days? Did you have a Santa too? Throwing candy and all?”
“Yeah sure” he says, continuing to shave. Without batting a fixed-on-the-mirror eyelid, he adds, “Our Santa carried a stick.”
“You’re confusing him with someone else, dearest.” I tell him. “Santa’s the kind-hearted, pot-bellied gent who goes around giving goodies for free.”
“I know,” he says, all attention fixed on a sideburn, “he carried a bag full of candy in one hand and a stick in the other.”
“Whatever for?”
“To beat the children with.”
“To WHAT?”
A big grin on his after-shaved face, he goes on, “Can’t blame him though.”
“No?”
“See, it’s like this. Our school always had a peon dressed as Santa. And the kids knew that. So every time the Santa act began, the kids would mob him and try to pull at his robe and mask. They wanted to see if it’s Shivajirao or Prakash. Eventually the peons started carrying sticks, which was the only way to ensure the act reached an uneventful end!”

Ad-wise

2007-11-20T03:36:00.000-08:00

Every ad professional has two lives. The other one being that of a superhuman who can save the masses from the vice-like grip of a mundane life. Bringing them confidence, energy, panache and what-nots.
I had started from a modest, middle class home in Andheri, and taken the train to ‘Swarg lok’. Come, come, girl – my creative director told me. Let’s sprinkle some happiness in the commonplace lives of these humans. Let’s get them a life, even if it’s just on the idiot box.
So here I was chin up, chest out, red cape billowing behind me. On my mission to spread joy. Meaning I was ready to sell toothpaste.
Here I am in conversation with the account director.

Me: So, we gotta sell toothpaste, right?
AD: No, no, of course not.
Me: I’ve been transferred to another brand?
AD: No chance. You’re still working on the toothpaste. But that’s not what we’re selling.
ME: No?
AD: Rolls eyes heavenwards. Stupid, you think we’d need you if we just wanted to sell toothpaste?
Me: So what do you need me for?
AD: To sell dreams.
ME: Dreams?
AD: Dreams. Aspirations.
ME: Not toothpaste?
AD: Moron. You just don’t get it. Why would anyone buy our toothpaste?
Me: To brush teeth with?
AD: (Icy glare) No.
Me: No?
AD: Arre baba, why would they buy OUR toothpaste?
That got me. Silence.
AD: We gotta promise them something, dig?
Me: Dig.
AD: Now, what can we promise them?
Me: (Eyes light up like a hoarding at night) Confidence?
AD: Sheesh! Every toothpaste gives you that. Every PRODUCT gives you that. Can’t we give them anything better?
Me: More fluoride?
AD: NO. Now stop goofing and listen up. We gotta give this consumer something more than he already has okay. You BLOODY well think of something to give him, or I shall kill you with my bare hands.
Me: But doesn’t the consumer want just toothpaste?
AD: (The who-gave-you-this-job look) Look, you gonna do this or not?
Me: (Beads of perspiration) Er, sure, sure. So we give them something. Sure. How about the ability to attract the opposite sex?
AD: No. That’s done before.
Me: Freshness all day?
AD: That too.
Me: Strong gums?
AD: Too late. Done already.
Me: (Sly smile) Wings?
AD: No. Red Bull gives you those.
Me: Sigh! Okay. How bout this? It gives you brains? Intelligence?
AD: You cretin, THIS IS JUST TOOTHPASTE!

Meal combos

2007-10-29T00:56:00.000-07:00

No no. I ain’t talking about McDdonald’s. Over the years I have come across the strangest meal combinations people have invented. Some have intrigued me, some delighted me beyond imagination and some have simply blown me out of my mind.
Some of these inventions have stories, while some are deliberate, premeditated experiments.
There’s a friend of mine who eats roti with pakodas and says it’s the healthier version of ‘bhajiya pav’. Another one has invented this absolutely lip-smacking sandwich. It’s essentially plain bread, butter and chutney, but it’s got Lays (potato chips) in it. She recommends the Mexican masala flavoured chips. I second that whole-heartedly.
My dear friend, Karan Amin, invented this finger-licking sandwich, which is popular till date. Walk into the JWT office and ask for the Karan sandwich. It’s sure to sock you in the palate. I dunno exactly what it's got, but it seems like finely chopped onions and tomatoes, grated cheese, green chillies and a liberal coat of green chutney. Try it some day, and you’ll love Karan for it.
Then again, I’ve heard of some combinations I haven’t tried as yet. See if they work for you. This guy I know dips buttered bread in nimbu-pani (lemon juice). He says he did it accidentally while reading a book, and got hooked to it. I’m a little wary of trying it, though. I like to down my nimbu-pani at one go, like a tequila shot. Not sure I could glug the concoction with breadcrumbs floating in it.
Yet another friend swears by the combo of rice and grapes. Yup, you heard that right. Rice, the cooked, white food grain. Grapes, meaning green grapes. The ones the fox couldn’t reach. Apparently she rummaged through the refrigerator one hungry night, found the two bowls juxtaposed, and the rest is history. Yummy – that’s the word she used for it. I guess I’ll just take her word.
Then there’s this guy who sprinkles sugar liberally over puris, and rolls them up. I tried that one myself. Sinful and delicious!
But I’ll hand it to my Gujarati friend who really tops it all. She mixed the Gujju Chewda in salted dahi-chawal (curds n rice). It’s a strange sweet-salty combination, which works best when the dahi is real chilled. Kinda crunchy!
Then again there are much-used combos like aloo ka paratha with ketchup, cheese with magi noodles etc.
But before I wind up, I simply have to tell you about this cousin of mine. I offered him pepsi and he asked for nimbu (lemon). He squeezed it over the glass of pepsi and added salt to it. Believe it or not, all his family followed suit. They swear by the taste!
Do you know of such combinations? Whether you’ve seen it somewhere or invented it yourself, tell me your combo.

No violence for kids

2007-10-24T01:07:00.000-07:00

My son is soon gonna be two years old. He’s started mimicking sentences now. The hubby and I sat down and started making rules. Never mind what the rules are, but on the top of the list is – no violence.
Strictly adhering to the rule, we dutifully change the channel every time something violent appears on TV. The hubby aint allowed to lose his temper while driving. You get the picture.
I sat back and sank into the couch thinking how successfully we’ve got violence out of our child’s life. Just as I was mentally patting myself on the back, my glance rested on the television (playing cartoons, of course).
And suddenly, I did a double take. There was Tom and Jerry beating the shit outta each other. Hitting with iron rods and fly swatters. Throwing live firecrackers. Banging, punching, kicking, beating to pulp and jumping on the remains. No form of violence was spared.
Switch to animal planet, the safest bet. Or is it? Lion pouncing on deer. Jackals devouring dead animal. Animal mating rituals. There. We now have violence and sex!
Okay wifey, hubby declares. No TV for him till he’s 18. Get him comics. Yeah right! Know what words you see at a glance in a comic? Pow, aargh, splat, splutter, bang-bang, boom. You know what I mean?
Never mind, hubby; I suggest. Forget comics. Let him stick to school and studies. Phew. Tough decision but we took it.
Okay then, let’s play him the nursery rhymes CD. Here, dear reader, are some of the nursery rhymes.
Jack n Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water.
Jack fell down and broke his crown and Jill came tumbling after.

Piggy on the railway, picking up stones.
Down came an engine and broke piggy’s bones.
Ah, said the piggy, that’s not fair.
Oh, said the engine driver, I don’t care.

Humpty dumpty sat on a wall. Humpty dumpty had a great fall.
All the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put humpty together again.

And the list goes on. The soul mate and I sat gloomily, hands to cheeks. Fine. If you can’t beat 'em, join 'em. Here’s what we finally decided. We sign him up for karate lessons as soon as he reaches the minimum age required!

What is your good name?

2007-10-16T23:13:00.000-07:00

I simply love it when somebody says this. The English language has grabbed so many words from India, we might as well Indianise it completely. Good name comes from Shubh naam. Aapka shubh naam kya hai?
There’s so much of angrezi we hear every day that comes from Indian phrases and sentences. Don’t eat my head comes from mera sar mat khao. My all-time favourite is ‘remove my photo’. This one has roots in Maharashtra, where they say ‘photo kadha’. Kadha literally means to remove. You’ll find Marathi tourists all over India requesting you to remove their photo.
Then there’s the irate North Indian who accuses you of sitting on his head. He generally means you’re getting on his nerves. Alternatively he could also say you’ve fallen on his neck. Galey padna being hindi for forcing your company on someone.
This famous line even found its way to a tv channel – we are like that only. The frequently heard cousin of this line is – I also am telling that only. Then of course there is the all-time ‘morning morning’ – subah subah. What are you doing here morning morning? I am bored sitting sitting. You have to eat standing standing.
Besides all this, what I love the most is the way my cousins write letters. Down South where I come from, most letters begin like this - I hope all is well at your end. By the grace of the good God and your blessings, all is well here at my end too. I pray to God that you and your family always remain well.
The current bout of conjunctivitis reigning at office takes me back to the days of Chimanrao, the protagonist of a Marathi comedy series. He wrote to his boss – I can’t come to office as my eyes have come. I will report as soon as they go away!

Cricket equals patriotism?

2007-09-28T14:49:00.000-07:00

Just two days ago, I was caught in a mad traffic jam. The men in blue had arrived after a glorious victory, with the 20-20 world cup. They were driven from the airport to the Wankhede stadium in an open van. Fans thronged the streets. Cricket fever gripped the city and jammed the roads.
Stuck there with nothing to do, I indulged in daydreaming. What if the equation changed? Imagine cricket no more being the symbol of patriotism. The symbol of patriotism would be, well, patriotism. All that passion and hero-worship would actually help transform the country.
Rather than comparing how many players have made centuries, imagine if there were world records on how many cases have been solved, or how many lives saved, or how many people employed.
Imagine, instead of Shahrukh Khan and Yuvraj, girls would go crazy about the doctor who did the first liver transplant in India or the cop who caught the beer-killer. A social activist would be made brand ambassador, and feature in ads. Awards would be given to the country with the lowest female infanticide rate.
This patriotism fever would spread. People would urge neighbours and friends to prevent aids because we gotta set a record. And every drunken driver would be attacked with the same fury reserved for any Indian who cheers Pakistan.
Magazines and news channels would feature the best teachers in the country. Or the best station masters. Etiquette would become a mandate. People would fear to litter or spit because – log kya kahenge!
The whole country would come together on the streets to plant trees, as a result of this passion. And everyone would ask – score kya huva – and mean the number of trees planted in a day!
There would be gully-cleaning. International festivals to showcase the number of new developments by each country. Money from international awards would again be put into building more roads, getting electricity and safe drinking water.
Scientists, engineers and economists would walk the red carpet, surrounded by the paparazzi. And everyone all over would want to improve his or her social and community skills. Being cultured would be the fad. Being honest would mean riches. And doing the right thing would hurl you into the arms of glamour.
Glamour. Cheering. Applause. Honk. I’m snapped back into reality. The traffic had started flowing again. The cricket team had moved on.

A letter to Bill Watterson

2007-09-14T09:30:00.001-07:00

Dear Mr. Watterson,

I’m sure you’re working at a more thoughtful pace now, with fewer artistic compromises. Meanwhile, I’d like to tell you how things are at my end.
I’ve grown up with Calvin and Hobbes, and they are part of my daily life. I freely quote them and their philosophy. I own books and I’m part of C&H communities online.
Calvin & Hobbes are all over my cubicle and home.
In fact, I’ve struck lifetime friendships beginning with one question – Are you a Calvin and Hobbes fan? The credo I live by is – From now on, I’ll connect the dots my own way.
I’ve been with them building snowmen, riding toboggans, and even in the transmogrifier. I’ve played Calvinball, shuddered at the thought of Rosalyn and travelled with them in the time machine. They help me think, put things in perspective and inspire me to deal with everyday situations.
But I’m not here to tell you how they’ve influenced me. That, I’m sure, you know very well. I just want to tell you that there are times when I’m completely foxed. Because I’m facing a situation Calvin never did. Which, I’m sure he’d have faced had he lived for longer. They tell me Calvin just vanished. And they say the author doesn’t allow merchandising. Fair enough, Mr. Watterson, I too wouldn’t want to see them on towels and doormats. But on scary nights when I’m seeing my personal bogeymen, I fervently wish I had Hobbes to hold on to.
It may not be right to be greedy, but why shouldn’t I get more of what I love? My entire collection will be a legacy for my children. And grandchildren. And I’m writing to you because one day my grandchildren will sit on my knee and ask me about you. And they might just say, “But you were there in his time. Didn’t you even try to get him write some more?”

Yours truly,
mads

I love bangles

2007-09-12T23:33:00.000-07:00

I love bangles. And this is one of my favourite poems.

The Bangle-sellers

Bangle sellers are we who bear
Our shining loads to the temple fair...
Who will buy these delicate, bright
Rainbow-tinted circles of light?
Lustrous tokens of radiant lives,
For happy daughters and happy wives.

Some are meet for a maiden's wrist,
Silver and blue as the mountain mist,
Some are flushed like the buds that dream
On the tranquil brow of a woodland stream,
Some are aglow with the bloom that cleaves
To the limpid glory of new born leaves

Some are like fields of sunlit corn,
Meet for a bride on her bridal morn,
Some, like the flame of her marriage fire,
Or, rich with the hue of her heart's desire,
Tinkling, luminous, tender, and clear,
Like her bridal laughter and bridal tear.

Some are purple and gold flecked grey
For she who has journeyed through life midway,
Whose hands have cherished, whose love has blest,
And cradled fair sons on her faithful breast,
And serves her household in fruitful pride,
And worships the gods at her husband's side.
-- Sarojini Naidu

I think, this is the best poem Sarojini Naidu wrote. But we ain’t discussing poems here. We’re talking bangles. Best described as rainbow-tinted circles of light.
I’m not much of a jewellery person, but bangles are something else. I’ve got boxes full of them. To go with each saree or salwar kameez. And I don’t mean those metal thingies you get these days. I’m talking glass bangles. Metal somehow can never be a circle of light, na. Metal bangles just don’t feel right. Their tinkling feels artificial.
The real tinkle is that of glass bangles, which sounds like a nymph who’s laughing out loud (dil khol ke) at a really funny joke.
And bangles have to be worn by the dozen. Two dozens for each hand. At least. They work best in multiples. Their function being? To cheer you up, and make you feel at the top of the world. Bangles make you feel proud to be a woman. And privileged, of course!

Cab woes

2007-09-10T04:57:00.000-07:00

Lower Parel station
9.30 am

My first day at work. I get out of the station and come on the street. Waiting to get a lift from a cabbie. Anyone who lives in Bombay knows that here auto and cab drivers only give you lifts. Paid lifts, but lifts nevertheless. They start out for a particular destination, and they’ll take you along only if it’s convenient and in the way.

After five ‘nahi jayegas’ I get one cabbie to agree. I open the door and four people appear out of thin air, get in and drive away. Moral: There should be no time lapse between opening a cab door and getting in.

Having learnt my lesson, I’m ready for the next cab. After a manoeuvre that would’ve done Rajnikant proud, I manage to get into a cab at last. But before I can get the door shut, three girls jump into it. I look at them bewildered. The cabbie drives on as if nothing has happened.

‘Is this a hijack?’ I think. Meekly I ask one of the girls, ‘Where are you headed?’
‘Exactly where you are,’ she says.
How the hell does she know where I’m going? As if reading my mind she answers, ‘We heard you ask the cabbie.’
Phew, at least it isn’t a hijack. They probably just want a lift and forgot to ask me. The relief that followed had set my benevolence levels rising. They were all welcome to the ride.

I make it to office safely and pay the cabbie. Suddenly, before I know it I hear jingling. My co-passengers vanish leaving me with a handful of coins. That’s when realisation dawned. They’d all paid their share.

Life has been smooth ever since I understood the principle. Every cab here is shared. The separate queue for the share-a-cab thingy is just a formality. Now I’m living happily ever after. In fact, if you see me any morning at Lower Parel station, you’ll realize I’m a pro. As soon as I hear the name of my destination being mentioned anywhere near a cab, I dive straight into it. Sometimes, the person who’s already inside looks at me bewildered.
‘It’s okay’, I say with a reassuring smile.

my first

2007-09-07T02:55:00.001-07:00

Mr. Kalra, aapki bahu kya karti hai?
My heart skips a beat.
The clever man changes the topic effortlessly, and points the limelight towards Atalji.
Phew!
This is the side effect of working in advertising. Nobody knows what it is that I do.
“I write,” I told my dad when I got my first job.
“And they give you money for that?” He can’t believe I actually have a job that involves writing.

My in-laws have stopped trying to understand what I do. When I first said I work in an ad agency, his grandma said, “matlab?”
I told her I make ads. She suddenly stiffened, “You’re a model?”
“No, no. I make them. I make the ads. The models work in my ads.”
“You’re a director?” and elderly aunt quizzed.
Er, not really.
“You’re the cameraman?”
No, but…
“You work in the TV channel?”
Thankfully dinner was announced.

My parents wished for a normal child who would become a doctor or a lawyer. And here I am, a copywriter in full bloom. Aaj kal ke bachhe, they say sorrowfully.
And when anyone asks them what I do, they say ‘service karti hai.’
Whatever that means.