Wednesday, 25 April 2012

Baba Ramdev's Ukrainian classes


It was Mehndi day of the NRI shaadi in Pune. For a wedding that was put together in 15 days, I’d say not bad at all. Lesson for those who take six months to a year to organize their wedding- Big money works just as hard in two weeks!

The clueless groom asks me if he is allowed to walk around. Hell it’s your wedding, do the monkey dance if you please. You’re anyway marrying someone your folks don’t ‘get’. Yet.

As I said, money talks. In this case, it dances to the tune of Chhammak Chhallo. Which by the way looks a notch sexier when performed by Ukrainian belly dancers: All flown down especially to add the exotic to destination Pune. I guess Russia’s neighbours felt Raj Kapoor’s lasting effect too.

I sat in front of the several-pegs-down Uncles. It spared me from watching their jaws drop and their wives jiggle as soon as Madam Ukraine swayed her hips in their faces. Then, amidst the whistles, claps and Indo-Arabic music, my ears picked up a gem.

Shiny-shirt Uncle: Imported dancers, na! See, see how she’s doing. Beautifool!

White-safari-suit Uncle: Heh! Ye to humne bhi seekha hai. TV pe bhi dikhaate hai, na.

Shiny-shirt Uncle: Achha?  

White-safari-suit Uncle: Arre, this is Kapaalbhati only. Baba Ramdev? He does so easily. Same like what she’s doing.

Shiny-shirt Uncle: Oh haaan… ye to Baba Ramdev ka step hai. Haan-haan. TV pe dekha hai. Great yaar. Sab to apne India se aata hai. Aur ye belly dance kehke karte hain.

This eavesdropping has completely changed my perspective on belly dance stomach undulations. If that’s not familiar territory for you, try visualizing Baba Ramdev in a bedlah, which is the traditional belly dance costume. 


Now bridh in and bridh out. 

Sunday, 22 April 2012

Oooiyee Maah!


This isn’t ‘hot off the pan’ as I intended. Partly because life got in the way but I prefer to say that I wanted to see if it had a lasting impact. Sadly, the lines from cringing are still visible. So yes, it qualifies.

As Mr. Ram Kapoor turned Priya Kapoor to face him for the thirty-somethingth time in that episode, I squirmed. How many attempts does a guy make to kiss a woman? (Obviously I’ve forgotten, this is no ordinary woman, but the hindi serial heroine. That too an ‘Ekta Kapoor modern naari’) How many time does this woman put her man through the coy ‘Ooyie Maa’ ordeal till her pallu drops, or gets stuck in the fourth button of his hired sherwani, forcing her to turn to him.

Worse still, she runs away to the other end of the room. Her pallu is long enough of course. Allowing him another painfully stretched shot: the Draupadi Vastraharan act. Please to be hearing the word 'Vastraharan' echo a million times in your head to mimic the desi sopa opera SFX.

Will someone tell the writers that this is totally misplaced in context of romance. I am so sure that it was not sensual when the Kauravas sneeringly stripped her. In fact, it was probably as torturous as those madras cut reaction shots for every character’s over-reaction shot. I do pity Mr. & Mrs. Ram Kapoor for having to do re-takes of something like this. 

All through, I could hear my mind egging on, ‘you can do it’, ‘you can do it’. No pun intended because ‘do it’ is far, far away: As far as two excruciating episodes at least.

To put this scene into more apt perspective, this is today’s ‘adult’ show: The story about two mature individuals with strong, independent identities. Correction. This was worse than all the saas-bahus put together. Because it’s pretending not to be. Oh, such a sad sham. But they were not alone that night. No no no! No peeping toms in their bedroom. Alongside though, on neighbouring channels Kunal & Siddhi, Ahem & Gopi, (oh it just takes 5 minutes on an episode to be on first name basis with them) and a few other ‘mature jodis’ were attempting their respective make out scenes. Was it a coincidence that all serial couples went ‘holi’ that night? I say so because all this non-action happened in and around holi. Which equals bhaang. Which obviously equals a fuddled romp. Just so they don’t recognize each other after the morning after?


Monday, 16 January 2012

I can do anything.com


Whoever said ‘don’t judge a book by its cover’ should have come to Costa’s with me the other afternoon.


Just a few days back I met this big shot from a relatively well to do agency. I say big shot only because he implied it just before he told me to send him my CV so he could share it with his headhunter friend. No promises, and no guarantees of course


So I trusted this afternoon’s call, asking me to be at Costas in half an hour. And was soon sitting opposite a small Martian-looking man at the far corner. Ok, that’s harsh. A small man-looking Martian. Yes, that fits because what follows was alien to me.


Going beyond the provincial cover, I answered Mr. Mars’ typical recruiter questions like which agencies I've worked for, portfolios handled, how many years, what level I’m at, expectations, etc.


He muses, raises his bushy eyebrows and then claps his hands. I can see an ‘Aha!’ moment shining through his beady eyes as he says, "Would you like to work for a law firm?” I am stumped: A trick question to check if I know my job? I look at him wondering if I should answer this. But knowing me, I let my mind speak so I say 'NO! Why?' He grins and says ‘You could do their copyright’.


Now I'm really at the verge of shock, exasperation, and sadness at the state of people- all rolled into one. I remember, when I began my career in Lintas, someone called me to say they heard of me from somewhere and wanted to hire me to do their copyright. Back then I giggled- it was a time when people weren't aware of our (un)glamorous profession. Today I choked. The tears rushed up to the brim of my eyes. I pulled them back wondering if I should convert them to a stomp-out-and-flee, or slap, or laugh. I did none. Because he went to say, “No? Not that? Then would you like work with the Tatas?”


Aha moment two had me swallowing a chunk of self-respect washed down with a swing of patience and tolerance. (I usually drink coffee at Costas.) I asked what I'd be doing. He said, “Anything! They have so many companies. You pick what you want to do. I’ll fix an appointment with the MD of Tata and you can work out where you fit into the group.”


I stared at him. In disbelief. For very long. Which did not drive home the point but it got him nervous. Because he fumbled, and apologised for not understanding what I do even though he dropped all the big names in advertising. I explained what copywriters do. He scratched five of his 10 hairs and then had a different kind of ‘Aha!’. With twisted eyebrows, he began frantically dialing numbers on his phone, cursing, dialing. All while telling me that he’s going to put me on to his sort-of daughter, who was a vice president in some huge media company and would be able to extract an exact definition of my role for him. But since she may be in a presentation, I had to be really lucky if he got through. Voila! I am lucky. I took the phone and introduced myself, profession, and skills. She said,  “But why don’t you just tell him you’re a copywriter?  He’ll understand immediately. (Been there, done that.) Then she introduced herself as a ‘Creative Art Director’ working for a small agency and had never heard of DDB. But Mr. Mars had and insisted the name stood for Dominic, Dabolkar and Brothers or some such names. When I said Doyle, Dane and Bernbach, he said, “Oh, I was talking about the other DDB”. Yes, of course.


But he clapped again, rubbed his hands together and exclaimed,

“If you worked with DDB, then I can introduce you to the WPP group which owns DDB. In fact, I’ll set up a meeting with their chairman and you can work for their corporate office.” (When did Omnicom donate DDB to WPP?)


I looked blank. But he was perking up again. “So you can write films. Then you can work for a director: You can write films for them…Prahlad Kakkar?” I foolishly attempted reminding him about the key words- advertising, agency, and writing.


He says, “You don’t want to write films also. Then ok, you design the sets. You can draw, and then direct the set. I really wish I did those two years in art school or practiced my Photoshop, illustrator, CAD, and any other skill- just to say yes to him! All that came out of my mouth was the word, writer.


It must have hit some nail because he said, “Content writer! Yes, you will work as a content writer for this software firm in Goregaon. They have lots of money so package is no problem. This is writing, right?”


He gleamed at me, “I’m getting warmer now. Send me a career synopsis. Not CV but synopsis: Your top 3 companies. The salary you want and ideal job. I’ll get it for you. I will just keep opening doors.”


Yes, he was getting close. But I was getting closer to self-pity.

Or then I must have multi-talented, diverse expertise written all over me (ok, not written). That’s the only way I can be positive about this encounter.


Then he clinched it with, “Of course you’re aware that I’ll charge you a percentage of your annual package, equivalent to a month’s salary.”


“Aha!”


That one came from me. (It was the only clear statement I’d heard all afternoon.)


Note: Anyone who needs jobs (yes, plural), kindly make alien contact through me. I will take my percentage, of course.