Truck Driver Man

This is for the man who kept driving his truck

He drove it up

He drove it down

He drove it back

He drove it forth

And then one day, he just lay down and died.

Farrukhabad Days

Dheeraj was a good human being. The son of a diligent, if un-ambitious father, he had recently cleared the extremely competitive Indian Administrative Service exams and was looking forward to his first posting in rural Uttar Pradesh. As the Election Commission’s delegate, he was to ensure that the district of Farrukhabad conducted the elections to the state government in a fair and legal manner. Considering this to be a nice gentle introduction, Dheeraj was hoping to use the experience to help tackle bigger challenges he felt would lie ahead – some people at his college believed him to be a visionary.

So it was with a healthy dose of optimism that Dheeraj arrived for his first day of work some 2 months before the elections. Time passed by largely uneventfully and Dheeraj became a popular man around the district. His charming personality and innate desire to help people won him fans wherever his official travels took him. It was on one of these trips that he realized that while the district capital Fatehgarh had a remarkably high number of registered voters, the number of villagers was much lower. Wishing he could have done something more serious about this, he promised to make a note of this for any such future assignments.

On the political front, trouble was brewing. The in-power party candidate, Charan Singh, had a sway with the upper and middle classes owing to his pro-industry, pro-tax-exemption stance. His opposition was a khaadi-wearing son of the masses, Raam babu, who was gaining popularity in the villages. He was out-spoken about the rampant corruption and under-hand dealings of the current government. He pledged to make rural development and helping those below the poverty line his main agenda.

In fact Raam babu’s popularity grew so much that the elections were starting to look like a close run thing. His tireless campaigning in the rural areas out did even the advantage Charan Singh’s larger bank balance and position in the ruling party granted him. Having met Raam babu, Dheeraj had taken a real liking to him but that in no way affected his decision making in his administrative duties.

When the elections arrived, the race for the district seat had become tight enough for the national media to start paying attention. However, through the workings of an influential lawyer, an age-old scandal re-surfaced in the courts. The allegations, if proven, would have left a lot of the ruling parties’ candidates ineligible to contest the elections. Seeking to clear its name, the party chose to exercise its powers and delay the elections till after a verdict had been passed in Lucknow. It was widely believed that this result would be pro-government. In fact the extra publicity that the ‘hurtful’ accusations would bring and the momentum from the subsequent proving of ‘innocence’ was expected to help smooth the road to their electoral victory.

Ceasing upon the extra time that had appeared, Dheeraj decided to act on his pledge. He thus began promoting the elections in the rural areas, often going door to door to tell the people about their rights to vote. Never once did he show a leaning towards any of the candidates but the newly registered voters were, as expected, largely pro-Raam babu. Charan Singh and the ruling party, neck deep in a murky corruption case, were turning a blind eye to most of these pivotal happenings.

And they ended up regretting this. As once the case was hastily put aside and elections were once again organized, Raam babu pulled of an unlikely victory! The ruling party, shamed by the court case and hurt by many smaller parties and independent candidates, could not believe what had happened. They resorted to their old tactics – provoking and participating in communal violence through their many brain-washed followers or Sevaks. Wherever a Muslim leader had been elected, they spread vile rumours about his intentions – and smear campaigns work well amongst the impoverished and illiterate.

In Farukhabad, even the gentle and religious Hindu, Raam babu was accused to evil intentions. His past troubles with a long estranged black sheep of the family were recalled and sensationalized. There was serious rioting and blood spilt on many streets of the otherwise peaceful township.

Dheeraj, under-prepared and under-trained to handle such a situation tried desperately to quell the fires. But such is the power of communal flames that he could do nothing but watch as many of his new friends were maimed and badly scarred.  Being the kind and gentle soul he was, Dheeraj could not believe what had happened and resigned from his post. Worse still he blamed himself for having laid the path to Raam babu’s victory and the pain and suffering that it eventually resulted in. He became a tame administrator with no motivation to change or improve anything.


Shamelessly based on Matt Charman’s excellent play The Observer. I was powerfully influenced by Richard Eyre’s production of the play that I watched a year and a half ago.

Time

‘Why couldn’t he wait another 10 minutes? Where does he have to rush off to at this hour?’ I asked, annoyed. Our designated cab driver had left 15 minutes after our scheduled pick up. This meant we’d have to take an auto to work again. Who wants to inhale all that smoke and dust?

This all began a few days ago when our old cab driver changed. He didn’t mind waiting around for us and our working hours were fairly flexible. Then in came this new guy who kept calling at the unearthly hour of 7.20 AM and then actually left by 7.45 AM!

We got the auto to work but every time the auto chugged through a pollution filled junction I cursed our cab driver.

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7.22AM – Gave the sahib’s an early missed call. Just in case they’re meandering along, unaware of the time. Oh God, please let us leave on time.

7.31AM – Got to their house a bit late but of course the Sahib’s are not ready. I really can’t afford this today. I’ve got to get to office by 8.15AM and report there. Any earlier and the Transport Coordinator will send me off on another ‘quick errand’. Then I need to get to the UBS manager’s pick up. How he shouted when I reached his house a bit after the 9.00AM pick up time that day. He definitely does seem the type to carry through his threat of getting me fired if I’m late again. Then traffic permitting I can get to UBS by 9.45AM, drop hip off and head off to Bittu’s college to see him get his award (bless him!) before getting some lunch and reporting to normal daytime duties at 12PM.

7.45AM – They aren’t here yet. I really have to leave. Can they cause a fuss and get me fired? No, I don’t think so, but that manager sahib can.

8.21AM – The TC spent an agonizing 5 minutes asking why I hadn’t picked up the guys and still was late. He seemed to ignore the fact that I’d had a puncture and told me to get to office earlier tomorrow!

9.04AM – Drove all the way back to UBS manager’s house at brake neck speed only to find his watchman say he’ll be late. Need to fill up petrol but I dare not leave here.

9.25AM – Manager sahib finally turns up and we set off. I’m watching the petrol needle closely.

10.15 AM – Traffic was terrible. And I kept trying to drive in the higher gears to save on petrol. Was hoping to go in and ask for an advance on month’s salary (UBS TC is famously accommodating) to give dear Bittu a congratulatory present but now I don’t have the time!

11.20 AM – Damn Minister went past on the other side of the road but they held us up for 10 minutes plus! I must have missed the award ceremony I’ve looking forward to ever since Bittu told us he’d topped in his 2^nd year college exams a month ago. Now he’ll never forgive me. He doesn’t understand that I don’t work 3 jobs because I love driving but because it’s the only way to afford his college education.

11.30 AM – Got a message from Bittu saying he waited for me but now he’s treating his friends and his mom to Biryani. I should’ve been going with them but it better get to my regular 12-6 job. Least the boss here let’s me go only late, and I miss the 7PM Google drop offs and it becomes an 8 PM drop off. Then I’ll never get to be in the front of the UBS drop off line and I won’t see my son again today.

12.12PM – Got to my regular job only to find in all the disappointment of getting to the college late and missing out on lunch, I’d completely forgotten about the petrol. Now I have passengers in the back seat and will have to push the car a kilometer before getting to the next pump. And boss ji hates this happening – I may just lose my best paying job…..

A New Direction

Subliminal matters is back. But this time with a very different angle. Keeping with the subliminal theme, I’m going to try and open the door on some common scenarios and what they really mean for some people. Be warned, these are not happy clappy or funny. The idea is to counter the often disgusting excesses and commercialism of the current ‘holiday’ period’ with some human stories. These are based on observations from my otherwise mundane life. They are not meant to be preachy, but to perhaps provoke some of us, including the author himself!

Tale of an Indian Farmer

Life could scarcely be much better for this Indian farmer. That is not to say he had bought a brand new car, a holiday package or even a new flat screen TV. Instead he had bought a healthy bull. But in a life where living was largely hand to mouth, this was a big deal.

Having inherited a sizeable chunk of land, our farmer was considered very lucky by many of his little village. This despite a large part of the land not being cultivable after his father’s decision to plant a soil-sapping crop there. But that had helped buy the fertilizers that our farmer had used so one could not blame his father too much. Especially since it had helped yield an unusually large harvest last year. Aside from growth in the harvest through better crops and fertilizers, the farmer was optimistic the bull’s milk would help him save up for his precious daughter’s wedding. His only child and the apple of his eye, she had done her 10^th standard and at 16, he was hoping to get her married within the next three years.

-----

A year later, Indian farmer’s purchase of the bull has proved a valuable investment. He has a small but growing saving that is his pride and joy. But there is trouble in the air. The village is buzzing with the talk of a big dam being built upstream from the river that is their lifeline. The village elders know that such a dam would cause havoc to their lands and well established cultivation cycles. They decide to pool in their meager savings and hire a big city lawyer.

The lawyer puts up a commendable effort but the government seems adamant that this dam is the way forward. They proclaim it a ‘life saver’ and are convinced it is for the ‘greater good’. Our farmer has to vacate his home and land – land that his family has owned for generations – and move away. Being a little more astute than a lot his fellow villagers, he is able to get his hands on the government’s ‘generous’ compensation of 75,000 rupees. With the money tucked away; wife, daughter and all earthly possessions on a cart towed by his faithful bull the farmer leaves his beloved village. Following a few of his neighbors they reach a new village outside the dam affected zone. Worried about the rate at which his savings are dwindling, our farmer buys a small plot of land in some haste from the shrewd local registrar for the ‘reasonable’ price of 60000 rupees.

----

However within a year of moving there our farmer has realized the soil is worse than the un-cultivable land in his old plot. Either the wheat seeds he spent so much on don’t grow at all or they’re short and stunted resulting in a very poor harvest. In the meantime it is time for his daughter to get married and his friends and fellow farmers encourage him to take a loan so as to find a good groom while his daughter is still young. Else her price on the market will shoot upwards. So in the middle of failing crop cycle, our farmer accepts a loan of 10,000 rupees from a no-good loan shark who masks an extortionate interest rate in buying gifts for his ‘adopted’ daughter and the farmer’s innocent wife.

But alas, times have changed and the money is not enough to secure the interest of a ‘decent’ boy from a good family. Instead his beautiful daughter is married to the alcoholic older son of the local alcohol shop keeper (whose first wife had already passed away in ‘tragic circumstances’). This leaves his once bubly daughter a miserable shadow of her former self. And our farmer’s loan repayment is due and with another pathetic yield imminent, the good farmer has no choice but to sell his lands and bull for 45000 rupees (people have heard about the lands poor chemical make up) and move again.

----

Our farmer has moved to the big city nearby where he ends up working for a construction company. From his happy days tilling the land, sowing crops and reaping the harvest, three short years later he is spending 15 hours a day trawling through a dangerous construction site, lugging bricks and mortar. He’s in a strange unforgiving environment where injuries are the norm and a filling meal is a rarity. Once again he is slightly better than the others in ensuring the pay distribution manager gives him his 1500 rupees a month. Of course there’s the unavoidable bribes he has to pay to stay employed.

But there’s also some optimism in the air. Someone at the construction site heard that after completing this terrible shopping mall, the construction company moves onto a much larger (and hence more profitable) project – constructing a dam in the nearby rural areas. The one that’s being proclaimed the life-saver that’ll make everyone’s life so much better.

Yapa: A review

Originally intended as a serious review, it didn't see the printing press so instead its on my blog! Enjoy and be jealous folks!

One warm winter’s evening a friend of mine hooked a few of us up with tickets to see French/African Jazz band Yapa play at The Park hotel In Hyderabad. The area where they were to play was gorgeous enough by itself – a slice carved out of the pretty avant-garde, modernist hotel looking out onto the Hussainsagar lake. This however meant we were open to the elements and with a train station right beside the hotel, I was dreading the acoustical nightmare this was sure to be. Boy, was I wrong.

As Jazz bands go, three guitarists and a drummer is a pretty rare affair. But Yapa manages to pull it off through the sheer talent of its members. They started the event ambitiously promising take a mixed audience comprising many people who had come there mainly to socialize, on a journey. And that is exactly what they managed to do – transport anyone that gave them half a ear to that place where a warm summery feeling engulfs you. After all one of the charms of World Music is its ability to make you drift away to a place of the artist’s choosing.

‘Projet #X’ from their 2008 album ‘Can I talk to you’, is a happy ride punctuated by the innovative rhythms of the drummer. ‘Maya’ was inspired by a lake on their Balkan tour and reflects the ebb and flow of a potentially life –sustaining water body. Their 2010 serving – ‘Pariwaga’ speaks to their connection to Ouagadougou (couldn’t resist mentioning a name like that!) and the rest of Bukina Faso where the album was recorded. With minimal post production ‘Sindi Deni Ma’ is a good example of the use of indigenous elements – in this case the smooth, bluesy vocals provided by Burkina’s ‘under ground legend’ Victor Démé. ‘A Mobylette’ is sure to take you to away to some balmy evening of Sangria and Salsa. Somewhere towards the end of the gig (I had lost track of individual songs and was instead enjoying the overall effect) they showcased their talent best. An approaching train was turned into an impromptu backing track, with the drummer playing some beats over it and one of the guitarists joining in. As the train came and went, they seamlessly blended this playing along into another melodious piece.

In a world where good Jazz bands that create their own music are sadly few and far between, and live performances of the same are like gold dust, Yapa deserve much appreciation. Their website tells me they re-invested their earnings from increasingly large gigs to produce their first two albums. Or as they quaintly term it – their records! Long may this happy endeavor continue.

Hiatus

No this is not a post about Haiti, though if you haven't already donated or even if you have, donate now. Its when these things lose the media's attention that the chances are that they need the most talking about!

This is a post to say that following on from last week - Its hot hot HOT! - I have decided to take a little hiatus. Its not just the heat. I have a couple of trips away from the city and possibly even internet access (do I sense a few of you gasp - 'no internet? how can anyone survive?'?!). Plus I've promised to spend the time I am in front of a computer not just ranting but doing some good and helping organize a charity fundraising event. So its all for a good cause.

So don't worry about me. I have a lovely aunt and a lovelier girlfriend who's air conditioners and hospitality I intend to over use and over stretch! And I promise to be back sometime in mid June with a new layout and some really funny posts. Ok, no guarantees on the latter!

So if you're in India - enjoy the peak of the summer. Eat lots of Dahi and stay safe! And if your anywhere that isn't horrendously hot - enjoy yourselves you lucky lucky arses!

Give Credit where Credit is due - Dahi and the men behind the scenes

If you have lived in India or well, any place where the mercury has expanded beyond 40 degrees, you can jump to the next paragraph now. But for those of you that haven't - its hot here in India. And by that I don't mean 'its-warm-today-so-lets-head-to-the-park-and-bask-in-the-sunshine' type of days I looked forward to for the past 6 years. I mean show-stoppingly, can't go out in the daytime, can't sit for 2 minutes without a fan or an AC HOT. To reiterate its H-O-T!

So its in this climate I have forced myself to write the second in this series of tribute posts (I told you there would be more). This one is for two things. Let me start with the second and end with the first!

When I said it is show-stoppingly (is this not a real word? well it ought to be!) hot I meant that for the normal mortals amongst us. I was not including the guys who actually make the real show go on - the construction workers, the little shop owners (no AC or fans in these makeshift little things), the rickshaw wallahs, even the policemen! I say that because the upholders of the law in this great land are known more for their incredible lethargy in all climes. But to just be out there standing in the heat, even pretending to care two hoots about the traffic (pun intended!) is a super human effort. Those poor security guys standing in front of buildings, how they must yearn to duck inside the air conditioned interiors of the buildings the guard. Construction workers take the cake (a solely proverbial one mind you) for doing hard labour in the baking heat. I hasten to add that these people are only the tips of the iceberg (extremely proverbial!)... a few instances that I have observed and felt a surge of sympathy for.

But then that leads me to my other credit-ee! Yoghurt. Just plain and simple tasty old yoghurt. No pretence, no fruits necessary, just that awesome better-than-ice-cream stuff. I honestly could not write that last sentence without my mouth watering; that's how much I love the stuff. Have it with your rice (like 96.25% of all South Indians - based on a survey I conducted in my head), have it with parathas (like 73.84% North Indians - similar sources) or even churn it a bit and have it as butter milk or lassi (everyone in India has had that) and its great. It is the base for a million different recipes, helps blend a variety of spices and yields another plain yet wonderful classic - the humble raita! Man I need me some yoghurt!

Anyways so my contention is that in its many beautiful forms it energises and keeps the masses going on one of these aforementioned HOT summer's days. Through most of my childhood I would have connected summer's gastronomical highlights with mangoes. Trust me its still up there, but with age comes maturity (or so they say) and with it the realisation of the true queen of summer cuisine - DAHI!

The twists and turns of Hero Honda

I want to document the thrills and spills of one of the most consistent(ly annoying) advertising campaigns on our televisions. I believe it all began with this hideous monster of an ad.

(Did you notice the way Irfan Pathan, all charged up to ball the ball of a lifetime, delivers a red hot juicy full toss?!)

Since I was not in the country I cannot tell exactly how popular it was or how long it was shown for. Mind you, there were some pretty harsh words being said about it so I guess it was big enough to get under the skin of some.

I started taking an interest when they changed track from that Bollywood-Cricket crossover rubbish and started promoting the Hockey world cup. For our international readers, contrary to EVERYBODY’s notion, cricket is not India’s national sport – hockey is. But when this old powerhouse of hockey was to host the Hockey World Cup, God knows it needed some bigging up! Here’s my favorite from that lot:

I dare say that one was nice and effective. A popular cricketer going out in support of a sport that desperately needs it and doing it well. Hooray. The ones featuring Priyanka Chopra and Rajyavardhan Rathore get a lot more sinister with a subtle and not-at-all-subtle threat to go watch the matches! But hey, at least the idea was right.

But then they went and put up this ad:

Apparently this genius concept has been on for a while now.
‘Thinking is such a waste of time’??! Yuck. What were they think… no I’m too pissed off to even make that joke!

Seriously though this is the kind of dangerous crap that produces lunatic daredevils who more often than not harm not only themselves (not such a big loss!) but innocent bystanders too. Irrespective of the disclaimer they hastily put up saying only idiots should try this, such an imbecile notion being displayed to a young, developing country spells nothing but trouble.

So subliminal message? The campaign creators are evil geniuses who realise that some decent ads endears people to the brand who are thus all the more distraught when you put up the ads. But distraught or not, it stays in peoples minds and what’s that they say in Marketing 101 – No publicity is bad publicity eh?!

3 little questions about me

Now that I've had triple digit visits and double digit followers of this blog (shock horror!) I think its time to tell you guys a bit about myself. The whole 3 of you that haven't been forced to read this that is!

Where am I from? My dad's family are Tamilians who moved to Kerala a few generations ago. My mum's family is from Udupi which is in Karnataka but they don't speak Kanada, the state language. They both themselves grew up in Delhi. With me so far? Well it gets tougher. I myself was born in Pune and have lived there, intermittently, for a total of 9 years. But in between and around those stays I have lived in Calcutta, Roorkee, Chennai, Delhi, Hyderabad and most recently for 7 years in the UK. So in the process I have a British passport but a very middle class Indian upbringing.

What have I studied? I did a combination of Chemistry and Physics for my under-grad. Then circumstances meant it made good sense for me to change and so I did a Master's in Mathematical Finance. Then this little thing called the recession hit and I took the first decent job that came my way so now I work in Online Advertising!

What are my interests? If you think of a sport right this second, there's a good chance I follow it and like it (unless you thought Gaelic Football or Kobudo or something!). If you think of a music artist (here the non-obscurity clause is key!) I either like them or like another band from the same/similar genre. Progressive Dub-step does not qualify as a separate genre in my book! I read, I write (sigh huh?). I sometimes (very rarely) strum a guitar (badly). Oh and I sometimes watch some TV and always scrutinise the ads I see!

My mixed and mobile childhood means that I am a fan of most things but the master of absolutely none. In fact I proclaim myself to be not a jack of all trades but a 9 or a 10 of many! But hey that's me and I'm pretty proud of it!

An ode to the Indian Retail Worker

This one is also dedicated. But in a very different way.

First consider this. I want to buy a photo album. I'll admit I had an ideal album in mind - I needed something where the leaves were transparent so both the picture and the caption written on the back of it could be seen. Hardly a very big demand, all things considered, you'd agree.

After trying a couple of stationery shops in vain, I made my way to the local Archies shop -- the Indian equivalent of Hallmark/Cardshop. In most countries, your ideal shop whilst looking for an album. What I get instead is to be sent to some vague (and uncomfortably hot) corner of the shop where the junior retailer dude has reluctantly opened the most massive wedding album. So when I suggest something a little smaller he grudgingly takes one out. Sure enough the leaves are not transparent. When I point out my ultra-fussy requirement he takes one second to comprehend it and another to say 'Yahan woh nihe milega' (You won't get it here).

I had endured this type of 'salesmanship' before (in one of the previous shops, the guy had flat-out refused to acknowledge the existence of said type of album!). So I persevered and asked him to take out a couple more of the literally thousands of other small sized albums. Disgusted and tired from all this effort, he was therefore APPALLED when I asked if he could think of any alternative ways to compile pictures. Perhaps a kind of binder that would hold them all together and let you flip through? 'Nope' he says while shooting me a look of how-dare-you-bother-me-so. Can he at least suggest some place that might do something on these lines? You guessed it, he doesn't know!

I have shopped, or rather tried, to shop in a lot of Indian cities. And I have found this definite common trend. If the store is not owned by the same person, i.e. his livelihood does not depend on it, he/she is not just reluctant to sell but often keen to drive you out of the place! In clothes stores (Lacoste, UCB*) where, being poor and miserly, I like to look at price tags before buying stuff, there's generally about 15 of these guys per customer who's job it is to stare you out and make you so conscious of this otherwise practical task that you are driven away. In huge books and music stores (Odyssey) the guy will often say matter of factly that he doesn't have a copy of the dictionary or ARR's greatest hits! I've been to a coffee shop (Deli 9) where the waiter guy swore on the fact that there is no difference between two cold coffees priced Rs 10 apart!

I feel I am entitled to rant (for once) as I have worked in retail before. As a junior under-paid, under-appreciated guy. Hell, I was in still in school for a lot of it so you can imagine I didn't really care so much about the huge corporate making an extra 20 quid profit thanks to me. Just as long as they paid me. But to be so uber lethargic and positively put off customers buying anything is another skill level altogether! I'm not exaggerating much when I say even the likes of Imelda Marcos and Blair Waldorf would not be able to pick up 2 pairs of shoes when 'served' by some of these guys!

So the subliminal message in all this? My theory is that all these stores are just fronts for money laundering, drug rackets, you name it. Of course the most worrying thing then is that like 95% of major branded Indian stores are all fronts! Oh how reassuring!

* The stores in brackets are ones that I've personally had a bad experience in, in the recent past. I don't mean to imply that other stores are going to be any better!

The APL?

Yes, it’s that time of year again. When balls fly around, bats swing faster (mongoose or otherwise) and matches swing faster still. But all of that is out-done by the swinging 'loyalty' of 'fans'! You may have guessed that I don't like the IPL very much. It’s a silly watered down version of an otherwise great sport. One of the most clear-cut cases of selling your soul on a get rich quick scheme.

Don't get me wrong. I love the fact that an Indian took an English sport, played in a format conceived in England and made it so got damn lucrative everyone wants a piece of India's not-at-all-humble-pie. God knows there is so much entrepreneurial opportunity here, time we benefited from it.

But my question is, when are they going to rename it -- to Ads Premier League of course!

There was already ads between innings and before and after innings. Cricket with its over breaks and drinks breaks and injury breaks and runner breaks lends itself to approx. 10 mins of ads for every 2 minutes of action anyway (watch out NFL, you have competition!). But then they had to include strategy breaks, err MaxMobile Stratergy Breaks. Each team becomes 'eligible' for one either side of the 10 overs mark. This is a concept so useless its a surprise the French didn't think of it first! (in fairness they may have had a disadvantage what with never having played cricket and all that.) What is a team doing well/badly supposed to do during one these 'strategy' breaks? 'Common guys lets do better?!' Now as if all that wasn't enough they've managed to incorporate ads between balls or should I say between Citi Moments of Success!

Phew! Now I need a break from all those ads.

Anyway, as a favour to the brain behind it all, Mr Lalit Modi, I have saved him the trouble of coming up with a new, more apt name -- the Ads Premier League it is. In return he need only donate 0.000001% of his IPL based fortune to me.

I'm gonna be rich guys!

Khas Baat Mil Gaya!

Decided to post this as a dedication to a new friend. For reminding me to do this and thus reminding me of the possibility of someone else beating me to it. And for saying I'm talented (she was almost certainly joking though!).

There is this JK Cement ad where a bikini clad woman walks out of the sea, struts over, smiles and thus 'vishwas hai isme kuch khas hai' ??!

There are many posts about how baffling the ad is. How it makes no sense and has nothing to do with the product. But as usual, m'dears - I have the answer. The 'khas baat' (special feature) about her is that ... (*drumrolls*) ... she is a transsexual! Look at the way she stands. That smile. Those braod square shoulders. There can be no doubt!

So what is the message -- the subliminal message? Like she has something hidden and hence is 'khas', the cement too is probably hollow and full of mud something. Ab mujhe bhi vishwas hai!

Legal note: All you JK Cement enthusiats, this is not the author's official stance and is subject to change given even the slightest obligation to do so!

SRK

Let me say straight-away that I used to think SRK (or Shahrukh Khan for those of you who are either not Indian or extremely slow on the uptake) is a douche. Let me tell you why. He’s earned pots and pots of money already - the jury is still out on whether its 12 or 13 of his subsequent generations that won’t have to LIFT A FINGER, that’s the kind of wealth we’re talking about. (Note: this probably still pales in comparison with some of our more industrious politicians.) So why oh why, does he still spend so much time on our TV sets telling us that the regular use of Emami Fair and Lovely cream will make our lives immensely better?!

The sheer stupidity of fairness creams may shock readers who are unfamiliar with Indian culture and its over-arching desire to be fair and thus beautiful. But that a man with a decent education and an IQ of more than 27 could want to further stretch his otherwise bulging coffers to endorse such a product is astounding!

And that’s not where it ends. He would have us believe that the use of Cello Gel pens will single-handedly (pun intended!) eliminate all problems from the life of its users!

Why? Why all you multitudes of SRK fans, why?

And then the answer hit me. Between the isanely inane ads and the whole ruckus of That Movie he managed to stay on our poor television screens approx. 26/7. With me till now? So most of you clever clogs thought it was all just a publicity stunt for the movie – that the whole Shiv Sena stuff was all a fix. But I reckon, there’s more to it. He’s finally figured he can’t be acting as a 25 year old dreamy stud anymore (yuck, did I just say that?!). So what’s the next logical step for a actor who is past his youth?

He wants to be the next Prime Minister of course.... go ahead, let out those screams of anguish, better out than in...

So what's with the name?

Anyone that's read this blog more than once (cue tumbleweed and the sound of deathly silence!) will know that there is a common thread to my posts. I've been giving my take on everyday stuff that I have found deeper (and sillier) meaning in. The word subliminal is anything that pervades conscious awareness but has an impact on our sub-conscious -- waffle free definition here. So you see the connection? No? Try a different blog mate!

Essentially I was looking to start a blog and figured that my penchant for conspiring crack-pot theories in many things is about as good a place to start as anywhere else. So subliminal matters matters ok! As for the repeated reference to adverts on Indian TVs, well I figure there’s a lot of digging to be done there! And let’s not forget, the whole point of these ads is to bury their message in sub-conscious where they can play havoc with other common sense and otherwise ‘rational’ spending patterns!

Give Credit where Credit is due - ARR

I’ve spent the last three posts mocking work that obviously took their creators painstaking effort to create. And for this I DO NOT APOLOGISE. But what I must do is give credit where credit is due. And let my first post in this series (oh yes, there is more to come) be dedicated to that man, the legend, the ‘Mozart of Madras’, A R Rahman.

For those of you not familiar with his genius, leave your cave and enter the real world now. He has amazed, even educated audiences of select (normally very good) Bollywood movies for the past 15 years or so. As a kid I remember trying to memorise the words to his various delectable songs (Roja, Sapnay). Recently he burst into international consciousness after he won Oscars for his soundtrack to the unfortunately masala movie Slumdog Millionaire. Shame its come through a frankly silly and hugely over-hyped movie, but all the same its credit long overdue.

Closer home he’s won awards for his musical score to such gems as Lagaan, Rang De Basanti and Guru. Practically every song with his stamp on it is guaranteed to be worth hundred listens or more and yet also fit the requirements of the movie aptly. Aside from those three movies that in my humble opinion needed very little additional help (the middle one in particular is an all-time fav.) he has made movies like Dil Se and Jaane Tu Ya Jaane Na worth the watch.

But sheer musical talent aside, the reason he gets into this ‘gets credit’ column is because of his painstaking efforts to bring national integration to the perhaps the most diverse country there ever was. Together with Javed Akthar, lyricist and writer par excellence, he has helped soothe the oldest divide plaguing the country – Hindus vs Muslims. Songs such as ‘Oh Palan Hare’ and ‘Pal Pal Hai Bhaari’ from Lagaan and Swades demonstrate a very healthy slice of respect for Hinduism by two practising Muslims. And it works the other way too - recently I heard my otherwise devout Hindu aunt humming ‘Arziyan’ to herself. Now my aunt would never hurt a fly (well one that’s not a blood sucking bast*rd, if it existed!) but you know what I mean.

Not just cross-religions, but cross-regions, cross-borders; I’m willing to bet good money his music had its effect in helping ease all the communal tension that is bound to be arise in a country so large and varied, where most people are trying desperately to make a life for themselves at the expense of the next man in line.

I may not know the ins and outs of this man’s life and actions (there’s bound to be some not-so-nice-nice stuff too) but for all I have seen and heard (and oh, the music we’ve heard) THANK YOU AR. I really wanted to text him and convey some of this stuff at his 'Jai Ho' show in Hyderabad but I didn’t so all the more reason for this post. (I know, I know he’s almost certainly not gonna read this but you know...)

I thought about providing links to each song but then decided not to because I basically couldn’t be bothered. Youtube it yourself, you lazy farts!

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Yes, yes this is rather late. And yes there have already been a million posts about the whole racism malarkey. And in fact yes, I did enjoy this film quite a bit. But as the tag line to the this blog says (or will say depending on when you are reading this) I have found some ridiculous material, dear readers, that's not to be found anywhere else on the whole world wide interweb! (Or at least so I say!)

My contention is, fair enough corporates are bad and evil* and most of the time they get away with what they want, but are you saying to me that in 2150 or whenever there will be no form of government or policy making body at all?! How else can you explain a corporate (no matter how big it is) spending 10 billion gazillion trillion (official figure based on current expected inflation) creating an army big enough to conquer the Sun and more! And all to get 'unobtanium' (seriously JC?!!) from under the feet of the peaceful Na'vi people?! You can just see this flashing on the news ticker of the future 'Big spending RDA corp splashes out 600 trillion on 5th battalion of its own mega-awesome army. President says "may the force be with you" ' ?! Oh and who is in-charge of such a force - none other than the stable and entirely rational COLONEL MILES QUARITCH!! I mean just one look at his war-scarred, hate-chiseled face would have had alarm bells banging in any half-baked decision making body right?!

Sure there's talk of the Big 50 corporate moghuls ruling the world and all that but a profit hungry business with that large an army?! Watch out future people, you're basically screwed!

* Need I remind you that this movie is made by Fox Films, a corporate movie making behemoth?!

One from the Classic Ads Vault: Friendly Wash

To my utter and unpleasant surprise, very few of the people I have spoken to have seen/remember the Friendly Wash ads that used to air in India many moons ago. A classic piece of marketing genius on television, my ability to perform this ad from memory has won me many accolades and many more odd stares at parties! (Ok so maybe the only accolade is that the girlfriend likes it!) And now dear readers I give you this gift free of charge (disclaimer: this does not cover the many subliminal messages encouraging you to donate at the bottom of the page!).

10-something year old kid comes on screen wearing school uniform: Mummy mummy [points to rash on mid-belly region]

Typically concerned typical Indian mummy: Komul twacha aur ye nishan? Professor saab kuch keyjeye nah!

Enter greying middle aged man wearing lab-coat (he must be a learned professor who knows all about dermatological issues!): Chemicals akhir do prakar ke hotein hain, ek jo humare skin kilye hanikarak hote hain aur ek jo humare skin ka friend hotein hain. (But of course!)

Jaise ke, Friendly Wash.

Mum has apparently used Friendly Wash and hey-presto, life's all sunny and great. Kid has got no rash and hence cycles onto screen to deliver the killer blow (as if we needed any more convincing!): YES! MERA BEST FRIEND, FRUNDLYWASH!!

And watching this ad, through the TV I could sense this excited little boys spit drenching me in its shower of soapy wisdom!

Stay tuned for translated version. However, please do not take away from the sheer genius if the English version does not give you the same sense of awe and admiration of this ad - no - this social service message!

10-something year old kid comes on screen wearing school uniform: Mummy mummy [points to rash on mid-belly region]

Typically concerned typical Indian mummy: Such a terrible rash on such tender skin? Please help us Professor sir!

Enter greying middle aged man wearing lab-coat (he must be a learned professor who knows all about dermatological issues!): Chemicals after all are of two types, ones that are harmful to our skin and ones that are our skin's friends. (But of course!)

Like, Friendly Wash.

Mum has apparently used Friendly Wash and hey-presto, life's all sunny and great. Kid has got no rash and hence cycles onto screen to deliver the killer blow (as if we needed any more convincing!): YES! MY BEST FRIEND, FRUNDLY WASH!!

And watching this ad, through the TV I could sense this excited little boys spit drenching me in its shower of soapy wisdom!

Aircel ad

An excellent recent post by a friend about the Tata Docomo ads made me want to voice out a concern of mine.

There’s this Aircel ad where the woman goes into a cake shop and mimes wanting just a slice rather than the whole. A good way of showing for 1p/sec calling is great and convenient. Fair enough.
What shocks, nay appals me is how at the end of it, this good looking woman, fresh from eating her slice of cake, leaves the shop and is shown being followed quite pointedly by the shopkeeper. We have no inclination that she paid him for the slice he served her (the whole cake was worth a sizeable 800 bucks), so are we to assume she’s going back to her house with him, as re-payment?!! Aircel is promoting prostitution and I for one will not stand for it.
Jai Hind!