My Favourite Jingles :)

I was going through some of the best TV commercials India has produced and then, I thought of taking note of the best jingles that have won the hearts of millions:

Tan ki shakti, mann ki shakti…Bournvita
Nope, boost wasn’t the secret of my energy; it was Bournvita and the credit goes to this very catchy jingle. Even the latest ‘epang, opang, jhapang’ is quite popular.

Tandurusti ki raksha karta hai Lifebuoy
Yes, the red coloured brick with a strong smell was (and continues to be) one of the highest selling soaps in India. Do not remember any other soap that became popular owing to its jingle.

Buland bharat ki buland tasveer…Hamara bajaj
It’s not only about the song but also the product with which you were so attached some years ago. Remember those scooters which had to be tilted on one side? The song rings a note of patriotism (I don’t know why, but it does.) One of the finest jingles produced till date.

Kurram kurram…Lijjat papad
People dressed in rabbit costumes and a bunch of people dancing in a garden made for a really funny campaign for Lijjat papad. Nonetheless, the kurram kurram was the perfect use of onomatopoeia for these crispy papads. I also distinctly remember the little rabbit that would pop up in the end!

Jab ghar ki ronak badhani ho – Nerolac paints
Simple lyrics and a lovely tune – a perfect combination that caught one’s attention, especially during Diwali.

Zandu balm…zandu balm
Some jingles may not be great but the fact that you remember them till date – just like some stupid nursery rhymes – make them worth mentioning. Zandu balm jingle falls under that category.

Nirma…nirma...nirma detergent tikiya
Think of great jingles and you’re sure to mention this one. Over the years, the Nirma ads have changed but they still use the same jingle.

Titan
No lyrics here but Mozart’s soulful symphony mesmerizes the audience till date. The moment you hear it you know its Titan. That’s what they call ‘excellent recall value’ in advertising.

Maggi maggi maggi
Had it as a kid, have it even now – it’s the ultimate quick-dish. However, I’ve never managed to prepare it in 2 minutes.

Mera gaanv – Amul dairy
Ok, some may not recognize this one. Probably it was aired more in Gujarat. Smita Patil and shots from the movie ‘Manthan’ talk about women-empowerment and how Amul dairy has brought in a revolution. It has the feel of a navratri song, though the lyrics are in Hindi.

These were some jingles from the bygone era. As for the new ones, probably I’ll publish another post :)

1947 – An Unknown Story

History has never been discussed openly in our family. Not much is known of what happened when my grandparents fled from Pakistan and came to India in 1947. As an inquisitive child, I pestered my grandparents on several occasions but in vain. All I remember is the real-life ‘story’ my nani would relate everytime I asked her about that historic journey from Pakistan to India. “You won’t believe, we had a swing adorned with gems and gold chips back in our haveli in Pakistan,” she said with an air of spontaneity. Each time I heard that, my eyes would gleam with surprise. It was hard to believe that my nani used to live in some kind of a palatial house. I would imagine her lying on a gem-studded swing, the kinds they showed on Tipu-Sultan series on Doordarshan. “But we had to leave all of that behind and rush to India. All we could bring along were the many silver and gold coins we had,” she continued. I knew what was to follow – the most designer belt I had ever heard of. “I had this belt with a zip running on its back side. It served as a secret pocket and I hid all the coins in there and wore it under my saree.” Next to follow were the long train journeys with unknown people who shared the same sense of insecurity; the survival stories in unhygienic camps; passing through jungles where snakes would simply slither away and hiding in unusual places. Finally, after many days they reached Mumbai and from there they shifted to Ahmedabad.

That’s it; my excitement level would suddenly dip. Everything that followed seemed very routine and took place in a country I live in. I wanted to know more about Pakistan – as if it were a country very different from India. So nani would tell me tales about her village in Pakistan – how she would play with her friends there, the household tasks she would do….She would get transported to some other world – a place she once called her home. “Aisa nahin nani, kuch alag batao,” I would suddenly interrupt and break her trance. My demands would snatch her back to reality - to a place where she was compelled to unlearn the old ways of learning and start from scratch. It was disturbing for her and that clearly reflected in her tone. “Aur kya sunaun? Mujhe aur kuch yaad nahin,” she would dismiss me and I would leave disappointed. Then for quite some time she would sit all alone and get lost in her world once again.

I knew she lied. She did remember a lot about her days in Pakistan but never wanted to tell us. Perhaps she didn’t want anybody to intrude in the little corner of her world – the fields where she could run carefree; the friends with whom she could share her dreams; the people who didn’t hold any prejudices; the haveli with its overarching doors and the gem studded swing where she could lie down peacefully.

Of Old Times and New

When I was a kid, birthdays were such a simple affair – streamers and balloons adorning the room (ma would spend the entire evening on it), home-made snacks for friends (samosas and wafers were the favs), playing passing-the-parcel and musical chairs (the best part :)) and giving away pencil box or pens as return gifts (everybody would fight for a colour of their choice). The occasion was more about having a good time with friends and family, not bothering about the shape of your cake or the colour of the wrapping paper on the return gifts.

Cut to the new-age birthday parties. First and foremost, you need to think of a theme -Barbie doll parties (where everyone dresses in pink) or jungle theme parties (where kids behave wildly as ever) are passé. Today, ‘A journey into space’ and Harry Potter themes are the favourites. Once you have decided upon a theme, plan the decoration. It doesn’t matter if it implies hiring a professional who’d charge thousands for the paper mache models and the paper cut-outs – the decoration should transform the birthday party venue (preferably a restaurant or a club-house) into a space station or Hogwart’s school of witchcraft. Invitation cards, birthday cake, games and return gifts – everything needs to be in sync with the theme. Some people go to the extent of coordinating the colours too! Such is the madness that the preparations start almost a month in advance – frenzied mothers surf the net for suggestions, the shape of the cake is decided, the cooks are booked - making the event nothing short of a marriage…infact, it’s an annual headache.

And after having attended many such parties and seen the tamasha, I wonder – is it really worth it? Whom are these people trying to please? Do the kids really want such stuff or is it the parents who are the ones conscious about their status? What was wrong with the kind of birthday parties we had? And can such celebrations match the innocence and joy of those humble parties we had not so long ago?

There she comes..

Ah, there she comes…

With a spirit that finds solace
In the chilly wind
Which cracks her skin
And reaches out to her soul

With a silence that speaks
Of the gratitude she feels
Towards the one that lit
An unflinching fire in her heart

With restless eyes
Looking for something
She had unwilling left behind
The last time

Now her eyes light up
A smile dawns on her face

She is back to the place where she belongs -

Pune

Pune Calling!

Yayyy! Leaving for a 4 day getaway to Pune today. Been away from this beautiful city for almost 4 months and this is just the right time to be there. I have been informed by reliable sources that the weather there is awesome! All I can think of right now is the lush-green University, coffee and muska bun at good luck and hours of chit-chatting with good ol' friends…Will have more stories to share once I'm back! :)

The best things in life…

Smell of the rain-soaked earth
A long-distance call
Receiving an email from an old friend
Finding a ten rupee note in your washed jeans
Listening to your favourite song on the radio
Finding a pressed flower in your book
Reading funny notes you'd written during lectures
Reading old messages
Singing a stupid song in chorus with friends
A head massage after a long day
A hot shower
Laughing over a stupid joke
Having someone play with your hair
Home-made food
Girls' night out
Watching a classic

Getting your first salary
Sitting under the shade of a tree
Watching the sun set
Walking on the beach
Making maggi at midnight
The smell of coffee
Blushing when friends tease you
Having someone tell you that you're beautiful
Candle-light dinners
Walking hand in hand with the one you love
Realizing that there is so much more in life to be explored….

While She Waits

I'm scared of her. She haunts me everyday. As I climb up the stairs, I can feel her presence. Clad in her white Pakistani pyjama - kurta and head covered with a thick dupatta, she sits on the last fleet of stairs. She watches me as I take deeper breaths while climbing the last few steps. As I move around doing my work upstairs, I feel she is standing behind me, watching me carefully.

I hear some strange noise and look behind. Nobody. But I know it was her. She must be getting some kind of sadistic pleasure in watching me all tensed and sweating. She knows I have this inexplicable fear of being all alone upstairs. It's been years, but still I haven’t been able to overcome this fear.

Climbing down the stairs is the thing I dread the most. There is darkness behind me and in that darkness I know she is following me. I can feel it - she is right behind me. As I try to move ahead faster, she gets closer. It's just a matter of a few steps. My heart beats faster. I don’t want her to snatch me away. Last four steps, three, two, one, ground. She's gone. The moment I touch the ground, she vanishes. Looks like she has no power beyond the fleet of stairs.

I heave a sigh of relief. Once again I have returned safe from her territory. I have been lucky for the past 15 years. But I know, one day she'll take me away with her….

Learning to move on

While I was returning home after class today, I felt a gulp in my throat. It was a sense of loss I couldn’t decipher. A lot of things filled up my mind. Was I unhappy, shocked or just getting emotional, given the moment? I don’t know what was it that had gone wrong, but atleast I realized that something had definitely gone wrong.

It was her last day in college today. She is a professor that came across to me as a rebel, as a dreamer, as a person who always wished to accomplish something more each day. There were many who didn’t like her - called her a snob or selfish. But I knew from the first lecture that I attended that I wanted to be her. It was a secret desire and I did keep it a secret till date. It's only now, as she leaves the college that I choose to reveal it.

Indian writing in English - that's her field if specialization. It's a subject constantly surrounded with issues of identity, authenticity, and of the sense of 'Indianness'. It was not a safe subject for a college professor, I thought. Then why did she have to take it? Perhaps, she liked to do the unconventional.

As and how days passed, I felt an urge to know more about her. She taught us poems of A.K. Ramanujan. "Memories like a snake slither away at the most unexpected moments," she said while explaining one of his poems. The passion with which she taught the subject made me wonder that perhaps even she has a past that comes back to her and makes her feel uncomfortable at times. She talked about the identity of Indian-English authors but deep within she was questioning her own. It was reflected in her initiative to investigate the dilemmas of Sindhis who fled from Pakistan during Partition and settled in Gujarat.

She is a Sindhi married to a Gujarati and realized that in the bargain Sindhis had lost a lot - their land, their traditions and now are even losing on their language. I saw her battling for identity. I saw a self burning from within, wanting to break loose and make a mark for herself, a self ready to take on challenges and show to the world the person they had been underestimating all this while. In her voice, in her words, in her look I saw myself…

She made me realize that to learn something from life, you need to move on. There shouldn’t be any guilt in leaving something behind because that's how you grow. The many talks with her enlightened me, pacified me and encouraged me to take the steps that I did. She instigated the desire in me to make my dreams come true. And today, when she was leaving I couldn’t react. I saw the me in her moving away. But then, she has left a bit of her in me to keep the fire burning…

Rain-soaked memories

In the labyrinth streets of my mind, memories find their place in every nook and corner. As I pass through these, I notice some rain-soaked memories tucked away in a corner - under a shed to help them from fading away. These are some handful memories of the days wrapped in the smell of the earth, the hot puffs from the bhajiyas and the endless cups of teas. While some are wrapped in an inexplicable search for the purpose of my being, some are full of fond memories with an evening spent with a loved one.

I have spent many evenings all by myself; walking alone on a path that leads nowhere and taking in whatever nature has to offer - rain, splashes, insects. On this journey though, I did ask myself many questions - why I was here in this city, away from home; what is it that I plan to achieve; what is it that I want to do 3 months down the line when I'll be compelled to leave this city and go back to my hometown. I needed time with myself - to answer these questions, rather to simply raise these questions. And there, on the lonely path, walking on soaked leaves and saving myself from splashes , I experienced many doubts being washed away from my mind and feeling one with the purpose of being here.

Now as it watch the raindrops from the window of my office, I can't help but think of the rainy day I asked myself, "What is it that I want to be?". It's another rainy day, in another city and I crave for the puzzled me who asked that question. I didn’t have any directions then and was head bound to find one, rather make a path for myself. I loved the restlessness, the passion, the many questions that left me sleepless at night. The showers instigated me to answer those questions. It was as if it were saying, "Here I am, pouring on the earth - the place where I belong. Where is your destiny taking you?" There was a perplexed me, a mystified me, a confused yet ambitious me who wanted to answer the rains.

Yes, it's another rainy day, in another city, so what is it that's bothering me? I'm cozy and comfortable in the four walls of this office. So what if I cannot run out and soak myself in the rain, but watch it from the glass windows? So what if I cannot smell the earth or feel the cool breeze? While it pours, I get a glimpse of the perplexed me standing in front of me. Drenched in the showers from head to toe, she smirks at me and asks, "Is this what you wanted to be?". There is no reply. Not yet.