ADVERTISING IS ALL GLITTER AND NO TRUTH

Against:

1.  Advertising, coming with its various forms, keeps the mass updated about uncountable new products, the must have’s and the social issues –to name a few. From  covering TVs, radios, digital medium, to prints, billboards and pamphlets while rushing through the bus-stand, munching a Mac burger or maybe even catching a metro. Advertising, has always been on fleek!

2. The newspapers,  magazines etc would have costed a dime more, had not the advertisements been published there.

3.  Advertisements have a positive impact on a consumer’s life- assisting them to amp up their lifestyle without the involvement of  any middleman as such. Ranging from Faasos, Housing.com, OLX to TrulyMadlyDeeply- it has catered to the minutest of our pressing needs when probably no such dependable source is around.

4.Targeting the populace for a legion of social causes- be it the villagers or the eco-friendly town people-advertisements have helped creating social awareness and a strong bondage with the remotest of lands. Be it “ Kodaikanal won’t” rapping the malaises faced by the mercury –littered hill-city- crowd or our very own HUL’s “Kaan Khajura Tesan” injecting entertainment into the lives of millions in the Hindi-Bhojpuri speaking belt, ads have extended their hands always

For:

1.       Advertisements are misleading to a great extent by painting an illusionary picture of a utopian world. People tend to take these much-hyped ads to such an extremity that they get caught in the vicious cycle of consumerism, finding it difficult to resist their temptations.

2.      Bewildering customers by publishing bizarre offers on eventful days, turns out to be a blooper most of the times when there are big contenders competing in the same industry. Citing ‘ The Big Billion Ruckus’ – by Flipkart, Snapdeal and Amazon last year.

3.      Advertisements create a sense of dissatisfaction and inferiority complex among the lower strata of the society, for the quality of life they can never  be a part of.

4.       Raunchy ads cluttering the ad space- Manpower contraceptives, Axe and  Passport deos etcetera  leave a dark impact on the audience especially children and teenagers, who tend to go astray morally at times.

MY TAKE:

Advertisements to me are the best creative medium to bridge the gap between vendors and consumers. Helping us  to sort our check list , saving ample of time while conveying information in an entertaining way- ads do take a bow! But at times advertisements get a bit pushy and persuasive, forcing people to purchase things unnecessarily. If creators are successful in carving out advertisements with a hint of fact and fun, without harming a particular section, strata or age-group of people

Dangers of Doodling

My hand was aimlessly moving on the paper as I had nothing to do;  It was one of those mundane,  autumn noons. And  YES! I was jobless too! I started channeling the voices from my ‘empty vessel’ to the sketchbook. Since knack is omnipresent, I have been bestowed with doodling as one of my sine-qua-non hobbies, without putting much use of it- anywhere.

The subject had started taking it’s form. The harmony of 4B & 6B pencil’s brisk, sharp movements on the paper was creating something that had been on my mind –something since the last Sunday’s lunch at Grigliato’s. The moment I was done with the sketch I started curiously admiring the protagonist.

“Who could it be?”, I murmured to myself while slowly taking my hands off the sketchbook. A loud “thud!” did bring me back to reality! After taking a quick 360 degrees scan of my room, I drew a conclusion that I had been happily daydreaming again. But what I saw next shook me off my feet; The subject of the sketch –an anonymous chef was blinking his eyes and staring grumpily. “Me? Are you talking to me?" as I shakily pointed the finger to myself. His nod was enough to set my world apart- as I was drawn inside the sketch in a jiffy! Holding me by my collar, he cornered me with a butcher’s knife and a grim expression. ”Is this for real? What did I do?!” I asked stutteringly.

 It was between those nanoseconds of quick time-travel that made me realize that it was the same restaurant where I was chowing down this Sunday. “ Grigliato” , more than a fanciful name, had been successful in woo-ing its clientele since 1991. Scrumptous Italian cusine and a countryside ambience to die for- factors that had bewitched me and my friend to order 15 successive plates of Parmesan-chicken and Riso. I guess we had pushed it too far when I recapitulated that it was this moustache- bearing chief cook, who was grumbling at us and had surrendered for not taking any further order. “ But I can spend my entire life, gorging on your food!” ,I fumbled like a puppy.  Twitching his eyebrows and aiming the  gruesome knife at me, he remarked “ Dobara Mat Poochna. Period!”

PICTURE WRITING

“Maa, can you please tell Dad to take me along with both of you?!” This was not some new demand for Gerrard.  For everyday,he kept mumbling these words to himself, in an embryonic posture,till he squinched his eyes to sleep. The four year old lad, peeped out of his tattered blanket  and gazed at the radium alarm clock in the shape of a mushroom. It was 11:00 pm but it seemed like Gerrard had ants in his pants today. “Granny! I don’t feel like sleeping..” he sirened  his grandmother as he heard her brushing past  against his bed. With  a limping pace, she slowly took him on her hunchbacked shoulder and sat on the floor.  ‘Wormie’,the tot’s dearest cuddlesome  toy was tucked into his hand by her, as she  caressed his face. “I know what is bothering you my child.Now, it’s all about us,be it the 25^{th "}

                   But how difficult it was  for a granny to pacify an estranged child, who had lost  his parents in the ruinous Nepal earthquake-exactly eight months ago from this 25^th   It was thirty minutes to the Yuletide and nothing seemed  Christmassy around. Not only did the catastrophe scar Gerrard for his entire life but also made him lose both his tiny legs. The crestfallen child, weeped faintly knowing that nothing could possibly make up for his loss. They had been spending listless months in a rehabilitation center ,run by an NGO. The looming silence was snapped off by a knock upon the makeshift-shack’s entrance. An anonymous man, with a package in his hand came forward and made Gerrard sit on his lap. His joy knew no bounds, when the person took out a pair of befitting  prosthetic legs and snugly fitted each into his lifeless limbs.In addition to this, a pair of ‘customized converse’ and a Thunderbolt tee were also a part of his complementary package! It turned to be a hay-day for Gerrard; the harbinger being – The UNICEF. From now on ‘hope’ was not just a four-lettered word for this petite outliver!

     

   

 Picture Writing-2

Brockstolm, seemed to be painted  with lights, carnations and fervour. The hoi polloi were brimming with zeal; the gondolas around the river were getting refurbished- it was a few hours  to the carnival of Fastilavn, in this Danish back-of-beyond countryside. Antithetically, the palace was casted by a pall of gloom. Merida, the queen of the borough, was not in the very best of her moods. The bereaved widow ,caressed her hands over the tapestry of the deceased king. “Got a bee in your bonnet?!Better hang on with that Zoro! “ as she bawled on the pup who went wagging his tail incessantly. The terrier was frantically running away from the mirror as he could sense some eerieness.

Merida, wiped her tears and slogged towards it. A hair-raising apparition was slowly taking a form in the glass  as she concentrated her vision into it. “As truth be told, the Fastilavn night never gets old!”- marked the spirit in a wailing tone. The phantom ,masqueraded with a mask,asked the queen to come near her. “What are you intending to say?”, retarted Merida coldly. “ Gulp this in one go and the coconut will do as it is told!” said the spirit as she offered a concoction of Bloody Mary to the queen. It was exactly a year ago, when king Darius went missing,on this very festival night. The majesty,in her robe stormed her way across the townhall. Forklore said, by striking off the barrel, the most adament of all demons- The Mephistopheles is exorcised and transformed into an inferior life-form. The townhall was swarming with people as Merida was going to break open the cask. It just took her one blow and all the contents of the barrel lay scattered-a coconut, some pins and a scroll. She gathered the broken shell, took out the scroll and started reading it.The Bloody Mary had divulged the ambiguity! The message out of the blank parchment sent a chill down her spine- a fleeting spirit had seized King Darius’ soul ; He, being the camouflaged demon had transmuted into a sickly canine, whom she found trotting in her palace corridors last year-it was Zoro.

Temptations galore- Story Writing 1 ,

"That game is too dangerous for children to play !"-Aaron's mind boggled, as he tried to recollect the overheard cacophony. The game under the tree looked like a hundred others that he had at home. But he was bored and restless and, looking for something interesting to do. It looked like a kaleidoscopic maze, creating a myriad of vines,arthropods and serpents, entwined in each other. Zimango- the onomatopoeic name of the game had already caught his fancy; so he thought of giving it a try.  Little did Aaron know while standing over this ordinary-looking playing board that he was about to plunge into the most bizzare adventure of his life.           
Fiddling with the dice, he rolled the cube accidentally. To his surprise, a cryptic message appeared in the crystal , kept adjacent to the board. Pussyfooting his way around the edge,he strained his eyes to read the outcome. "Until someone rolls 5 or 8 you will have to spend your life in.....". Before Aaron could even interpret the note, he was sucked into the board and a trail of semi-molten tyres looped around his body. Moments after regaining his sense, he gaped grimly at himself-to discover that he had been transformed into a virtual mute. A vocal cord removed, his throat stitched together like a boot. He laid there,squealing like a frightened pig,only to realise that he would be trapped for decades in it and a host of dangers could  be averted, only by finishing this game.