I drove to work today and listened to radio after a long time. The only hindi music playing channel that I could find was Radio One. "94.3 FM...for the fatafat generation" goes the jingle. While I could have tolerated that earlier, recent circumstances have made me take on a rather belligerent view about these things.
And it got worse after a rather beautiful song that I enjoyed ended. "I want love...fatafat". That's when I lost my cool. Not only is our generation living this statement to the hilt, we marketers are exploiting these sentiments to make money.
And what are the real emotional fallouts of these "live-for-the-day" attitudes? Does any marketer pause to think about it? Do these considerations keep us awake at night?
What ever happened to words like loyalty and commitment anymore? Arent they so uncool? Your relationship isnt working? Find the nearest available pretty thing to fall for. Fall out of one and fall into another.
And what happens to the person you leave behind?
Unfortunately the answer to that is also provided by one of my favorite brands and a brand I briefly worked with.
They should "move..on" fatafat.
No more mourning deaths of relationships. Who has the time to waste. One didnt work out for you? Too bad. move into the next one... fatafat. dont get emotional or mushy about it.
New love is around the corner.
I was shocked to hear S say "So you try it out..if it doesnt work, you move on" Really?
Is it really all about life in the fast lane and fatafat love?
And what about the losers who still remain tied? Who still harbour hopes of lasting love and fidelity?
Well, until the next marketer comes up with an answer to that one, your guess is as good as mine.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Friday, August 8, 2008
Street smart
Read this link:
http://www.anniezaidi.com/2006/03/streets-stories-strategies.html
Although she has said it all, I do not think that enough can ever be said about this.
Here are some of my own experiences:
* This came at a time when I didnt understand anything about sex or sexuality. I was a highly protected girl child. I must have been 10 or 11. There was a big function happening at our community hall. The family was helping out with the preperations. I was asked to go backstage and fetch something. I was looking for it when this friendly 'uncle' who worked at the community hall came in from behind and held me from the back. His arms went around my chest.
Although I didnt know what was happening, I felt a distinct sense of unease - I think its built into us girls. I managed to disentangle myself and ran out of the room. I felt an inexplicable sense of shame. And instead of telling my mother about this, I was more bothered about what excuse I will come come up with as to why I hadnt fetched what I had been asked to. Till date, there has been only one person whom I have shared this with.
*While in school, I was walking back home from the bus stop when this man started following me. It wasn't exactly conspicuous. I could have easily missed it if I hadnt been alert. It kept happening for one week. Then one friday he approached me. Got pretty close before I started to run. Ran all the way home. Didnt say a word to anyone. I was tensed the whole weekend and even tried to come up with an excuse to miss school on monday. But I could not work up the courage to confide in my mom.
What's interesting about this episode, now that I look back at it, is how we girls, in our shame to speak up about such things, actually protect these B******* Can't think of where this sense of shame comes from though. Would you keep quite if someone stole your bag? If someone stepped on your foot? If someone insulted you?
So why is it that when we are stalked, felt-up and abused we choose to keep quite about it?
The third time I kept quite about it was when a cyclist brushed his arm across my breast while I was walking back from school.
But here are a few times I have retaliated:
My sis and I were sitting on the kinetic , outside a shop in majestic, waiting for mom. A couple of guys passed us by. One of them whistled, the other made some comment. My sis and I looked at each other. There was uncomfortable silence for 4 seconds. Something inside me ticked. I turned aroudn and shouted at the guy "oyyyyyyyy" He barely gave me a glance before moving on. Sis and I never spoke about it.
I know it wasnt much. But it was a start.
After that I protested when drunk men tried to pass comments when a bunch of us girls were travelling on an overnight bus. I spent an uncomfortable night on a bus where the guy next to me kept pressing into me.
I yelled at an old uncle in a bus in pune.
Oh, let me mention here that I prefer Bangalore buses to one in any other city any day! Here we, the ladies, are atleast a bit safer up in the front of the bus. The conductor is the only man who has to squeeze past. Some buses nowadays have female bus conductors. I really admire these ladies for their courage. They have to squeeze past men, exposing themselves to groping, grabbing, rubbing when they go to the rear of the bus to sell tickets.
Let me stop here.
I do not have as many incidents to narrate as so many other girls in this country and the world.
I suspect I have been extremely lucky in this aspect to get away with
ONLY a feeling of unease and fear while walking the roads and not actually having faced anything. And yet everytime I am walking alone on the road, riding an elevator with one other man, travelling in an auto at night, travelling alone by train or overnight buses, I live in the fear of being raped.
The last time I was travelling alone by train, I had to alight at my destination at 11 p.m which is late by train standards. Most passengers are asleep and the lights are off. I was getting bored and restless so I went and stood by the door. I noticed someone next to me. Turned to look and this man who had 'rapist' written on his face was staring at me. I had to cross him to go back into the compartment but I gathered the courage and fled. For the next tortourous one hour, he kept staring at me. I tried everything - buried my face behing a book while my heart was beating loud enough for the whole compartment to hear, tried to get onto the upper berth but he managed to see and make himself seen. I was scared to death and prayed that my dad came to the station to pick me up on time. I have never been so glad to see my parents on the platform as the train pulled in. And mercifully the 'rapist' didnt alight at the same station.
But that's nothing. Like Prof Mathew used to say:
Imagine you are a woman. You are Indian. You are a dalit.
That is fate at its sadistic best. You are a free-for-all.
A couple of days ago I had to walk for some distance on bellary road at night. That was when I realised that the footpaths are a completely different world as opposed to the road itself. The road was choc-a-bloc with traffic. But the footpaths were dark and scary. I did not want to look behind me all the time, so I kept looking at my shadow falling on the wall to keep checking if anyone was following me.
I have travelled alone in europe. Let me tell you, when darkness falls, it is quite bad out there too. Plus if you are a brown woman in a predominantly white country you are crying out for eve-teasers.
There is one tiny country in this world where I have felt completely secure at all times of the day and night, in deserted trains and in crowded ones. Singapore. The men there are so well behaved that at one point I felt insulted that not a single man gave me a second glance :)
One more interesting aspect - EVEN the indian man in Singapore is so well behaved.
I suspect it is the fear of the law that makes those men the way they are.
But it was in Singapore, for the first time that I felt free, in the true sense of the word - as free as a man!!
http://www.anniezaidi.com/2006/03/streets-stories-strategies.html
Although she has said it all, I do not think that enough can ever be said about this.
Here are some of my own experiences:
* This came at a time when I didnt understand anything about sex or sexuality. I was a highly protected girl child. I must have been 10 or 11. There was a big function happening at our community hall. The family was helping out with the preperations. I was asked to go backstage and fetch something. I was looking for it when this friendly 'uncle' who worked at the community hall came in from behind and held me from the back. His arms went around my chest.
Although I didnt know what was happening, I felt a distinct sense of unease - I think its built into us girls. I managed to disentangle myself and ran out of the room. I felt an inexplicable sense of shame. And instead of telling my mother about this, I was more bothered about what excuse I will come come up with as to why I hadnt fetched what I had been asked to. Till date, there has been only one person whom I have shared this with.
*While in school, I was walking back home from the bus stop when this man started following me. It wasn't exactly conspicuous. I could have easily missed it if I hadnt been alert. It kept happening for one week. Then one friday he approached me. Got pretty close before I started to run. Ran all the way home. Didnt say a word to anyone. I was tensed the whole weekend and even tried to come up with an excuse to miss school on monday. But I could not work up the courage to confide in my mom.
What's interesting about this episode, now that I look back at it, is how we girls, in our shame to speak up about such things, actually protect these B******* Can't think of where this sense of shame comes from though. Would you keep quite if someone stole your bag? If someone stepped on your foot? If someone insulted you?
So why is it that when we are stalked, felt-up and abused we choose to keep quite about it?
The third time I kept quite about it was when a cyclist brushed his arm across my breast while I was walking back from school.
But here are a few times I have retaliated:
My sis and I were sitting on the kinetic , outside a shop in majestic, waiting for mom. A couple of guys passed us by. One of them whistled, the other made some comment. My sis and I looked at each other. There was uncomfortable silence for 4 seconds. Something inside me ticked. I turned aroudn and shouted at the guy "oyyyyyyyy" He barely gave me a glance before moving on. Sis and I never spoke about it.
I know it wasnt much. But it was a start.
After that I protested when drunk men tried to pass comments when a bunch of us girls were travelling on an overnight bus. I spent an uncomfortable night on a bus where the guy next to me kept pressing into me.
I yelled at an old uncle in a bus in pune.
Oh, let me mention here that I prefer Bangalore buses to one in any other city any day! Here we, the ladies, are atleast a bit safer up in the front of the bus. The conductor is the only man who has to squeeze past. Some buses nowadays have female bus conductors. I really admire these ladies for their courage. They have to squeeze past men, exposing themselves to groping, grabbing, rubbing when they go to the rear of the bus to sell tickets.
Let me stop here.
I do not have as many incidents to narrate as so many other girls in this country and the world.
I suspect I have been extremely lucky in this aspect to get away with
ONLY a feeling of unease and fear while walking the roads and not actually having faced anything. And yet everytime I am walking alone on the road, riding an elevator with one other man, travelling in an auto at night, travelling alone by train or overnight buses, I live in the fear of being raped.
The last time I was travelling alone by train, I had to alight at my destination at 11 p.m which is late by train standards. Most passengers are asleep and the lights are off. I was getting bored and restless so I went and stood by the door. I noticed someone next to me. Turned to look and this man who had 'rapist' written on his face was staring at me. I had to cross him to go back into the compartment but I gathered the courage and fled. For the next tortourous one hour, he kept staring at me. I tried everything - buried my face behing a book while my heart was beating loud enough for the whole compartment to hear, tried to get onto the upper berth but he managed to see and make himself seen. I was scared to death and prayed that my dad came to the station to pick me up on time. I have never been so glad to see my parents on the platform as the train pulled in. And mercifully the 'rapist' didnt alight at the same station.
But that's nothing. Like Prof Mathew used to say:
Imagine you are a woman. You are Indian. You are a dalit.
That is fate at its sadistic best. You are a free-for-all.
A couple of days ago I had to walk for some distance on bellary road at night. That was when I realised that the footpaths are a completely different world as opposed to the road itself. The road was choc-a-bloc with traffic. But the footpaths were dark and scary. I did not want to look behind me all the time, so I kept looking at my shadow falling on the wall to keep checking if anyone was following me.
I have travelled alone in europe. Let me tell you, when darkness falls, it is quite bad out there too. Plus if you are a brown woman in a predominantly white country you are crying out for eve-teasers.
There is one tiny country in this world where I have felt completely secure at all times of the day and night, in deserted trains and in crowded ones. Singapore. The men there are so well behaved that at one point I felt insulted that not a single man gave me a second glance :)
One more interesting aspect - EVEN the indian man in Singapore is so well behaved.
I suspect it is the fear of the law that makes those men the way they are.
But it was in Singapore, for the first time that I felt free, in the true sense of the word - as free as a man!!
Friday, October 5, 2007
The night envelops me
its tendrils stretching out to embrace
it hopes to console
it has noble intentions
and why not? it has done it before
little does it know that the darkness is no longer comforting
the air contains no warmth
where the heart is empty and without cheer
where the tormented still loves the tormentor
the night is no solace
it brings instead memories of days long gone
of days wasted, of warm thoughts for the loved one
all in vain,
for when the night came it was long and dark
thick and dense,
and although there is light at the other end
it is rarely seen, its warmth rarely felt
Incomplete as much as I may feel
there is nothing that can be done
the feeling must be borne
the night must be braved
one can only hope
that the day will be long and filled with sunshine
and laughter and all things bright
Do you, but, not fear that the day might be too short?
that night may, yet again, rush in with its steely arms
and that it probably loves you so, that it might not want to let go.
Hell, I am an optimist..
and I think I might fall in love with the night!
its tendrils stretching out to embrace
it hopes to console
it has noble intentions
and why not? it has done it before
little does it know that the darkness is no longer comforting
the air contains no warmth
where the heart is empty and without cheer
where the tormented still loves the tormentor
the night is no solace
it brings instead memories of days long gone
of days wasted, of warm thoughts for the loved one
all in vain,
for when the night came it was long and dark
thick and dense,
and although there is light at the other end
it is rarely seen, its warmth rarely felt
Incomplete as much as I may feel
there is nothing that can be done
the feeling must be borne
the night must be braved
one can only hope
that the day will be long and filled with sunshine
and laughter and all things bright
Do you, but, not fear that the day might be too short?
that night may, yet again, rush in with its steely arms
and that it probably loves you so, that it might not want to let go.
Hell, I am an optimist..
and I think I might fall in love with the night!
Friday, September 21, 2007
Pushing one's limits - an amazing way of life!
Its 5.30 AM. almost 3/4 of our batch is still up writing research proposals!
This simply HAS to be the last day to this term!!
What a term this has been! from never ending media classes and brand science lectures to curriculum change rules, to lost laptops and "the great house arrest of 2007" to late night WYWI sessions to the furore over the placecomm, this term has been my best at MICA.
A batch meeting that was called by the placecomm at 4 AM has just ended.But the day is far from over. The very last bit of submissions for this term (and the biggest one) is yet to be turned in. The reading room of the library never looked more crowded. And in this state of broken body and tired mind and incoherent thoughts, I once again reiterate that this simply HAS to be the last day of the term. We are leaving for our rural research this afternoon. I am saying "this afternoon" but it still feels like "tomorrow" afternoon, cos on this planet called MICA, a new day never starts until after you have slept at least a couple of hours in the early morning.
I cannot remember how many days it has been since we have been toiling away on classes, long days of playing the online marketing simulation game markstrat to creating a simulated retail store on campus, to writing 2 exams to writing the research proposal.
I think it has been 5. I might be wrong.
At MICA, time is simply suspended. Weekends have no meaning, weekdays are not special either. What holds, simply, is your ability to push your physical, mental and emotional limits as you exist far away from civilisation.
This is my home, this is my family for now...and this is my way of life. I am coming to love it as each day passes and although sometimes, I scream my lungs out and say I want to run away to the "cool" refuge of bangalore and home, I know really that I wouldn't miss even one day of the action on campus.
I shall end here as there yet remains a couple of hours of sleep, a lot of thoughtful packing, polishing and submission of the research proposal, and last minute things to get before the journey to be crammed into about 8 hours.
However, if I were to make one closing statement, it would be this:
This is the only way to live!!
This simply HAS to be the last day to this term!!
What a term this has been! from never ending media classes and brand science lectures to curriculum change rules, to lost laptops and "the great house arrest of 2007" to late night WYWI sessions to the furore over the placecomm, this term has been my best at MICA.
A batch meeting that was called by the placecomm at 4 AM has just ended.But the day is far from over. The very last bit of submissions for this term (and the biggest one) is yet to be turned in. The reading room of the library never looked more crowded. And in this state of broken body and tired mind and incoherent thoughts, I once again reiterate that this simply HAS to be the last day of the term. We are leaving for our rural research this afternoon. I am saying "this afternoon" but it still feels like "tomorrow" afternoon, cos on this planet called MICA, a new day never starts until after you have slept at least a couple of hours in the early morning.
I cannot remember how many days it has been since we have been toiling away on classes, long days of playing the online marketing simulation game markstrat to creating a simulated retail store on campus, to writing 2 exams to writing the research proposal.
I think it has been 5. I might be wrong.
At MICA, time is simply suspended. Weekends have no meaning, weekdays are not special either. What holds, simply, is your ability to push your physical, mental and emotional limits as you exist far away from civilisation.
This is my home, this is my family for now...and this is my way of life. I am coming to love it as each day passes and although sometimes, I scream my lungs out and say I want to run away to the "cool" refuge of bangalore and home, I know really that I wouldn't miss even one day of the action on campus.
I shall end here as there yet remains a couple of hours of sleep, a lot of thoughtful packing, polishing and submission of the research proposal, and last minute things to get before the journey to be crammed into about 8 hours.
However, if I were to make one closing statement, it would be this:
This is the only way to live!!
Saturday, September 1, 2007
Sunday? wo kya hota hai?
Sunday morning 11.30 am. Got up at 10.30 am and rushed to class. Presentations going on in class…now the whole case is making some sense to me!
And hence, the burning question in my mind is:
Sunday, wo kya hota hai?
Snapshots from Hell
September 2nd, 6.38 am IST ( dont know wht the blog is saying 1st september - its probably US time)
When I was thinking of doing my MBA, someone recommended the book snapshots from hell to me. It is a must read for every MBA aspirant. Basically it talks about how hectic MBA life is.
And although MICA is not your conventional B-School, life gets veryyy busy here too. The first term of the second year has been filled with Media courses.
Would like to share with you a day in the life of a MICAn.
What did I do today? and by today I mean 1st and 2nd september cos I havent gone to bed yet.
Got up at 10, having gone to bed at 3 after having sent in a case study for a contest and then having taken a bath at 2.30am, realised that I had forgotten that I had a product management class at 9 am. Anyways..so the next class started at 10.30..so dashed straight to class. Class goes on till 6.15 pm. with 15-20 min breaks in between and a 40 min lunch break. The subject is Strategic Media Planning, basically, media planning is about planning where you will advertise and how much. But it isnt as simple as it sounds. So The prof, an ex-MICAn, in his great enthusiasm overloads us with more info than we can digest in 2 days. He taught us, apparently, how to make a business plan.
Then he handed over a case study for us to do overnight..which he claimed, would take 3 hours to do. I had estimated 5-6. So, I relaxed a bit and then went on to paint a long overdue picture on my friend's room door. Finished at 9 p.m. Had dinner. Went for a stroll for 10 mins. The group was supposed to meet at 10 cos 2 ppl from our group are in the placement committee and they had a meeting. But we started at 11 as they finished their meeting then.
Started off with no clue what to do..the assignment brief was vague to say the least and the data insufficient. Just finished the PPT at 6 am. 6 of us were left finally. And here, I must salute our hard working placecomm team mates who stayed till the very end!! Here's to the MICAn spirit!!
And now...off to bed. Have a class in 4 hours.
When I was thinking of doing my MBA, someone recommended the book snapshots from hell to me. It is a must read for every MBA aspirant. Basically it talks about how hectic MBA life is.
And although MICA is not your conventional B-School, life gets veryyy busy here too. The first term of the second year has been filled with Media courses.
Would like to share with you a day in the life of a MICAn.
What did I do today? and by today I mean 1st and 2nd september cos I havent gone to bed yet.
Got up at 10, having gone to bed at 3 after having sent in a case study for a contest and then having taken a bath at 2.30am, realised that I had forgotten that I had a product management class at 9 am. Anyways..so the next class started at 10.30..so dashed straight to class. Class goes on till 6.15 pm. with 15-20 min breaks in between and a 40 min lunch break. The subject is Strategic Media Planning, basically, media planning is about planning where you will advertise and how much. But it isnt as simple as it sounds. So The prof, an ex-MICAn, in his great enthusiasm overloads us with more info than we can digest in 2 days. He taught us, apparently, how to make a business plan.
Then he handed over a case study for us to do overnight..which he claimed, would take 3 hours to do. I had estimated 5-6. So, I relaxed a bit and then went on to paint a long overdue picture on my friend's room door. Finished at 9 p.m. Had dinner. Went for a stroll for 10 mins. The group was supposed to meet at 10 cos 2 ppl from our group are in the placement committee and they had a meeting. But we started at 11 as they finished their meeting then.
Started off with no clue what to do..the assignment brief was vague to say the least and the data insufficient. Just finished the PPT at 6 am. 6 of us were left finally. And here, I must salute our hard working placecomm team mates who stayed till the very end!! Here's to the MICAn spirit!!
And now...off to bed. Have a class in 4 hours.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
nothing!
Why? oh why do I do it??
Why does it refuse to go away...
leave me in peace!!!!
why these dreadful nights when everything comes back to you. why cant it just disappear? Its like walking willingly into quicksand. It attracts me. I want to walk into it. And drown...
How stupid is that. Don't I have a life of my own? why should it be indebted to someone?Why should I not be able to be a complete person in my own right? why should it still haunt me?
Am I not the stupidest person in the world? Who in their right mind would long for something that refused to come to them. Mirage: thats what it was. And like a fool, I keep wanting to catch it. The biggest crime in this world is to be naive. To trust. To get hurt. And want to get hurt over and over again. I inflict it upon myself. I know. No one in their senses would go on like this for months. Its gone. It was never there. don't you understand. And the more you look for it, the farther it goes. And yet it attracts. It stalks its prey. Its on the prowl at night. It catches you off guard. In the middle of a conversation. In the middle of a class. And then it rips you apart. It hurts like hell. It frustrates. It brings out the negativity in you. It leaves you famished. It kills you bit by bit.
and you are stupid enough to let it walk over you.
Why does it refuse to go away...
leave me in peace!!!!
why these dreadful nights when everything comes back to you. why cant it just disappear? Its like walking willingly into quicksand. It attracts me. I want to walk into it. And drown...
How stupid is that. Don't I have a life of my own? why should it be indebted to someone?Why should I not be able to be a complete person in my own right? why should it still haunt me?
Am I not the stupidest person in the world? Who in their right mind would long for something that refused to come to them. Mirage: thats what it was. And like a fool, I keep wanting to catch it. The biggest crime in this world is to be naive. To trust. To get hurt. And want to get hurt over and over again. I inflict it upon myself. I know. No one in their senses would go on like this for months. Its gone. It was never there. don't you understand. And the more you look for it, the farther it goes. And yet it attracts. It stalks its prey. Its on the prowl at night. It catches you off guard. In the middle of a conversation. In the middle of a class. And then it rips you apart. It hurts like hell. It frustrates. It brings out the negativity in you. It leaves you famished. It kills you bit by bit.
and you are stupid enough to let it walk over you.
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