(m)Ad World

Television advertisements have always been great conversation openers. Talking about the latest quirky ad about the latest what-have-you is something I always enjoy. But of late, I can’t really decide if I want to sit through advertisements, or renounce the idiot box forever.

It all started when I caught the ad for an energy drink. It has all the makings of a for-kids ad, with children running around, playing and having fun. Ok, all’s good. And then came the catch phrase of the ad-hold your breath-Ipang Upang Japang. Forgive me for wrong spelling. Actually, forgive the spelling itself! When an energy drink that wants to make you “sharper” retorts to advertising itself very eloquently by saying Ipang Upang Japang, you KNOW something is wrong. What I can’t figure out is, how on earth did that idea get okay-ed by the ad agency?! Imagine a bunch of ad men in a board room, complete with ties and suits and all.

(m)ad man: I’ve thought of a campaign for our brand which I think will SURELY strike a chord with the children. It is exactly what our product is about. The feel, the sound and the meaning have been thoroughly researched. I’m confident it will be a hit with the children.
Mad boss: Ok, go on. 
(m)ad man: After months of research, my team and I have come up with “Ipang Upang Japang”
Mad boss: …

Now unless those three words have some significant meaning(boy, it better be good) in some unknown African language(zulu, anyone?), the ad is quite obviously utter nonsense. What worries me most is, is this what the children of today want? Catchy rubbish? Even worse, is this what the adults of today THINK children want?

Fine, maybe we should leave the 8 year old kids alone. What about that new orange drink?The one with Genelia over acting as usual? “[insert name of brand] ka signal loud, bunking is allowed!” This ad quite frankly disgusts me. Not only does this advocate bunking(I’m sorry, but just because Genelia says it, doesn’t make it ALLOWED), it also makes it sound like bunking is something everyone should do. Holding a cola drink, bunking college and running on the beach is portrayed as the perfect, cool existence. 

The worse punch line of all ads, however goes to Chocoleibe. I’m not even going to bother covering up the brand name. The story: A very brave Inspector Lobo is trying to get chocolate off his teeth at the selection parade, much to his embarrassment. The solution: Don’t atko. Alpenlibe gatko. This advertisement really, really made me want to really, really throw up. It’s almost like the makers of the ad have gone- sorry guys, we’re out of words here. So we’re making up “atko” and “gatko”, okay? You’d better appreciate it. Better still, go buy our chocolate!

Then of course, comes everybody’s (and mine, I have to admit) favourite: Zoozoo. Those cute little creatures which don’t speak, but make screechy, annoying sounds. The fact that zoozoo is the rage at the moment is testimony for the fact that either the Ad men or TV viewing public today have left their brains at home, somewhere under the bed, along with the mould and dust bunnies. 

Sigh. Of course, there are some good ads too. Some of my favourite include those mint ads where the college student walks in backwards late to class so the professor thinks he’s walking out and sends him inside, the Virgin “Think Hatke” ads, the Sprite ad, and of course- Appy and Grappo Fizz. Most of these ads are cute or funny or cute AND funny, without compromising on words, or a sane thought process. 

Now that I’ve sounded off(phew), I’ll probably go back to the tv now. Ipang Upang Japang, everybody!

You

You're the red in my shadow
The drought in my rain
You're the tears in my laughter
The smile in my pain

You're the sour in it's sweetness
The truth in my lies
You're real when you're faking
When you're in disguise

It's you.. and it's true.

You're the warmth in the winter
And autumn in spring
You're the ice in my summer
You're the strangest thing

You're the love in my hatred
The joy when I'm sad
You're the peace when i'm angry
The good in my bad

It's you.. and it's true.

You're the wrong in my right
You're the dark, You're the light
You're the kiss, you're the smile
It was you all the while.

It's You.. and it's true.

Twisted Tales

Tried writing dark love poetry. Works?

TWISTED TALES

 

From the cruel world of hearts we seek

Hope when we know hope is bleak

What twisted tales of love we play

Constructing every word we say

 

In the arms of lies, we stay, we wait

Stay up when we know it’s too late

What twisted tales of pain we play

Games we play, night and day

 

On broken roads of tears we walk

Broken worlds of fears, we talk

What twisted tales of hate we play

We know, oh no, someday we’ll pay

 

Rainbows black, we smear, we paint

All the signs of smiles we taint

Our love will grow and glow in flames

In the fervor, of our twisted games..

Colder

When the sorrow ends the pain
And laughter stops the rain
When your smile has left you all the while

When your blood replaces tears
And the anger in you sears
When your frown has let you down

And the days turn to weeks, the weeks let you go
It's a shoulder you need, so I'll let you know

The thunder rings, there are more important things
The sad bird sings, but you know she's got wings
Hold my hands, I'll be your soldier
I'll be your warmth, when life gets colder

When the roses die and fall
And you think you've seen it all
When running's not fun anymore

When you know that you're wrong
But your lips ain't got no song
The silence all the while wasn't sweet

And the days turn to weeks, the weeks let you go
It's a shoulder you need, so I'll let you know

The thunder rings, there are more important things
The sad bird sings, but you know she's got wings
Hold my hands, I'll be your soldier
I'll be your warmth, when life gets colder...

'Cuz life gets colder.

You Are, I Am

[the following poem is mushy. Yes. Very mushy.]

You fumble, you stutter, I laugh at your face
But you know my heart beats so hard
I'd stay by your side, but if that's the case
It's your turn, go on, play your card.

I'll give you a ring and we'll stay awake
Into the night until dawn
I'll walk on the ice just to see if it breaks
And these feelings of love will be gone

You be the clouds, oh I'll be the rain
And we'll need each other to fall
If I'm the tears, then you are the pain
We'll get rich, and we'll lose it all

And I'll take the fire to see if it scars
If perfect is anything to go by
I'll drive at full speed to see us go far
It can crash and burn if it lies

But I'll ride the wave, who cares if I drown?
And you be the air I inhale
I'll climb up the building and I'll jump right down
And you know you just cannot fail

Its everything or nothing, that's just where we stand
We stay or we vanish into the air
And I'll hold it back when you hold my hand
We'll run, until we go nowhere.

Book Review- White Tiger

Everything in India, according to Aravind Adiga, the book’s author(or Balram Halwai, if you insist on technicalities) is absolutely nothing but a big, fucking joke. The story revolves around the aforementioned Balram Halwai, who moves from the village-The Darkness- into Delhi- The Light, to become a driver. Back in the village, he was taken out of school so he could work and pay off his sister’s dowry, which the groom’s parents “screwed the family” for.

 

Moving to the city, he learns a lot by listening to snippets of conversations of his masters, buys rich man clothes so he can enter a mall, “dips his beak” into a call girl and does many other things which only big, bad city boys do. Ultimately however, being the ‘first-gear’ man that he is, he gets sick of being a servant. The story takes a new turn, with Balram acquiring dreams of killing his master and being his own master. In the end, he does, and moves to Bangalore to become an entrepreneur. Don’t curse me for ruining it for you, because I didn’t, really. The storyline is more or less predictable and Balram Halwai is one of the most sluggish protagonists I’ve ever come across, at least for someone who’s supposed to be a White Tiger.

 

Now don’t get me wrong, I think the book is written wonderfully. In more than a few instances, one cannot help but chuckle at the sheer simplicity, yet somehow mixed with satire, of Balram’s words. His observations of daily life are presented in a macabre but very entertaining way. It really gets readers thinking about what a messed up country we live in.

 

If Gregory David Roberts’ Shantaram managed to ooze optimism out of every dark little Indian corner, Aravind Adiga does just the opposite. He criticizes pretty much everything, from how village women look, to how city women dress, to politicians to landlords to his own grandmother. No wonder Balram Halwai become a murderer, as his character seems to be exceptionally full of hate.

 

White Tiger is an enjoyable read, albeit extremely dark. Read it if you enjoy subtle humour, akin to that of Mark Haddon or the Adrian Mole series. Laugh at the atrocities of the Indian system(be it family, parliamentary democracy, marriage, schooling, ANYTHING!) but beware- this book has the uncanny ability to suck you in, although you might hate every bit of reading about India’s Rotten Heart.

All in all,read it only for the gruesome interpretation of India “shining” But to think this book won The Man Booker Prize- What A Fucking Joke.

Dear Terrorist, I hope you're happy

Those last few days of November 2008 was a nightmare for Mumbaikars, and for all of us with a heart. Watching the fire engulf something as beautiful as the Taj, watching Oberoi massacred, innocent Jews at the Nariman House killed... I think a little part of me died along with the countless victims of that wretched attack. Cafe Leopold, which I extensively read about in Greogory David Roberts' Shantaram was attacked too. Though I've personally never been to Mumbai, there was something so inhuman about these attacks that it very, very deeply wounded me. Maybe it's giving in to precisely what the terrorists wanted, but honestly- we don't have a choice but to be hurt. People are entering 5 star hotels and attacking us, what next? Personal Terrorist Service? Crazed, brainwashed sadists entering our homes just to kill us? This is absolutely not done.

Here is a little piece I wrote for all the terrorists who died while killing.

You got your hand grenades
A heart full of devastating hate
You gun us down and kill yourself
I hope you're happy..

You subdued the city of dreams
Changed our hopes into shattered screams
You made us cry with our backs to the wall
I hope you're happy...

You killed our men of guts and skill
Caused havoc with blood curdling ill will
And now you lie with blood in your eyes
I hope you're happy...

You had a nation under your heel
Made us numb, made us cry, made us feel
Now you're bodies are blown apart
I hope you're happy...

Also, my heartfelt regards to the following people:

1) The NSG commandos. True heroes. I salute

2) The Mumbai police.

3) NDTV staff. Especially Srinivasan Jain. For the excellent coverage even though your eyes were drooping with lack of sleep for over 50 hours.