Does size matter?

So what's the story with everyone's obsession on size? Men always want everything bigger. Houses. Cars. Biceps. Amplifiers. Televisions. Burgers. Their women's breasts. Everything needs to be big, big, big. While women spend their whole lives wishing they could get everything smaller. Except when it comes to engagement rings, of course. But let's not go down that aisle right now.


A recent survey just revealed that most British teenage girls want to grow up to look like Kate Moss. What stupid kids. Don't they know that they should not grow at all if they want to look like her?


Diets are no longer casual food restrictions. They are calculated down to every micro-milli-calorie. Forget caviar, these days a sliver of iceberg lettuce on a silver platter is considered an indulgent lunch. Some celebrities even share the same eating habits as a Somalian, except that the Somalian probably looks healthier than they do.


What's wrong with tipping the scales occasionally? It's good to let go sometimes. Eat what you want. Drink what you like. And what if that belt doesn't buckle up or that zipper doesn't go up on your skirt? Big deal.

Up in the Air

So there used to be a time when air travel was fun. When checking-in was a breeze, luggage did not have to be shrink-wrapped and air hostesses could smile at passengers because botox wasn't popular yet.

Cathay Pacific promised that you would 'Arrive in Better Shape'. Now they aren't even sure if you will arrive. I think airport security should adopt the Cathay slogan. After all, who wants to see an unflattering body scan of themselves right before boarding a plane to go to that two-week culinary tour of France?

Airline staff used to pride themselves on service. Now they just treat everyone as terror suspects.

You get plastic cutlery to thwart the urge of stabbing your snoring co-passenger in the guts while you try to sleep through reruns of 'The Apprentice' and 'Have You Been Served?'.

Airport Security is alerted should you ask for more than two drinks on a long haul flight.

Waiting outside the toilet for more than five minutes is cause for alarm. And if you have a beard, it could even be reason to make an emergency landing.


Air travel has really lost its charm.


Airplanes are only getting bigger because all the air hostesses are. You land at your destination smelling like a piece of Roquefort because you can't carry your toiletries on board. And ticket prices are getting more expensive, but you still get the same warm beer in a plastic cup, salted peanuts and a wailing baby two rows away from you.

Slave to the Grind

So I've been in advertising for thirteen years now. A year at Ambience (Now Ambience Publicis), two years at Trikaya Grey (Now Grey Worldwide) and ten years at Alok Nanda and Company (Still going by the same name. Perhaps they'll make the big change when I leave - just like the others did.)

And what have I learned in all these years?

That working quickly on a project doesn't earn you praise, it only gets you more jobs that need to be done twice as fast.

That Art Directors need to be physically present at exotic locations for shoots while writers have to use their imagination and Google Earth to write creative brochure copy.

That a cold beer at lunch can do you more good than yoga at breakfast.

That a client doesn't care what you say or show in an ad as long as the logo is big.

That deadlines sound deadlier than they actually are.

That Powerpoint presentations really aren't powerful. And don't make a point either.

That brainstorming is just another word for 'A group of people staring at ceilings pretending to be deep in thought'.

Now all this immense knowledge has got me wondering: Is all the late night slaving and mental abuse in advertising worth it? How would I know? Ask someone who works after six.

Somewhere Over The Rainbow

So they finally decriminalized homosexuality in India last year. Not that much has changed since. Gay men continue to marry women and have children to please their parents. Mothers still insist that their daughters' lovers are "just very close girl friends." Couples entry at nightclubs still means straights only. Gay characters in Indian movies are still over the top freaks cast merely for comic relief. LGBT events are still strictly by guest list only. And people say this is a landmark ruling that could usher in an era of greater freedom for gay men and lesbians in India. Absolutely fabulous, isn't it?

  

Love, Etc.

So Valentine's Day came and went. Nothing really to differentiate it from last year. Or the year before that. Same red heart-shaped balloons everywhere, roses selling at real estate prices and restaurants swiftly emptying out wallets, all in the name of love. 

Dreamy-eyed couples stroll down streets promising each other the world. Some holding hands. Some holding on to the fantasy of a perfect relationship. 

It's meant to be a day to profess undying love to your better half. But in reality, it's just for overexcited boys to lure girls with a fairy tale romance so that they get their happy ending before the night is through.  

Ajoy To The World - Actually, just to himself.

So Alexander McQueen's last design was on his own skull, the film 'My Name Is Khan' is attracting large crowds (So what if they're all angry mobs coming to tear down the cinema?), thousands of naked men are taking a dip in the Ganga to celebrate Mahashivratri at the largest ever Kumbh Mela and I'm posting my first blog entry. 

I'm guessing some of these events really have the potential to go down in history.

Coming back to reality though, this blog is not here to change the world, raise funds to buy Sarah Palin a new palm top or save the Tiger, even Tiger Woods for that matter, it's just here for one thing and one thing only - the future. Mine.

I figured that if i can put up some of my advertising work here, and get some people (aiming for low double digits here) to see it, then maybe it will start getting noticed, I'll get more work, and earn money for life's little necessities - like single malts, vacations and maybe even that beautifully tailored, ice-print McQueen suit at less than blood prices.