VIEW FULL VERSION: Link
Title: 'neighbour's envy, owner's pride.'
Category: Other
Blog Entry: Those were the days! — the early 1980s when, wrapped in blankets to protect ourselves against the Indian winter, we would sit in front of the TV for the Sunday movie. The movie would start, say, at 6 pm, but we would take our positions by 5, because that's when the commercials began. They would sell everything a household needed — from wool and woolen garments to 'Only Vimal' to 'Khaao Gagan, Raho Magan' (Eat Gagan, be happy: Gagan being a cooking oil) to Saridon, the painkiller,  to Nirma, the washing powder. And when the temperature outside would be dipping to six degrees, the sight of hot puris puffing up in Gagan vanaspati oil would warm up your young soul. You wondered: why can't my mother make such puris? In the 21st century, the kind of things the commercials sell are pretty much the same, except that in the 1980s, they never sold cars. Back then, a car was an unaffordable luxury for the middleclass home and it was  pointless to arouse the dream of owning one. And where were the cars to sell? But today, a kid usually wonders: why can't my dad buy that car? The puri doesn't interest the child anymore. Pizza, yes. The point I am trying to make is simple: advertisements reflect the current aspirations of society. And considering the route that commercials  take these days to sell products, it is very clear what the society aspires for: sex. Underwear ads have been around since the days of Adam, but a new commercial, for Amul Macho, shows a saucy woman taking great pride in washing her man's oversized underwear near a village well, much to the envy of other women who look at her with awe. Clearly, it is no longer just Onida TV  that is a matter of 'neighbour's envy, owner's pride.' Then there is another ad, set in the backdrop of Durga Puja, which shows a young man bumping into a not-so-young Bengali woman wearing a white saree with a red border. The ad makes it very clear that the two are not known to each other, yet they go and have a quickie. I can't recall what this salacious commercial seeks to sell — it could be a mobile phone or a brand of condom or a deodorant — and it doesn't really matter, because they all seek to sell in the name of sex. Are we all about sex, then? Perhaps. The repression for centuries seems to have  transformed into an obsession in the 21st century. Only till a decade ago, a woman shown indulging in an illicit relationship in a movie would have had to die. Not anymore. In the film Metro, which would easily  go down as one of the most memorable films of the year, the characters sleep around with such ease that even Mahesh Bhatt would feel uncomfortable. Yet, people watched it and liked it — because the movie so resembles real life. And what's real life? As if you don't know it. Well, in case you really don't, let me tell you that it is not just sex that has come out of the closet but also sexual activity – and literally so.  Couples — young and not so young — are increasingly having webcam-to-webcam sex: just that one of the smart couples records the action at the other end and posts them on the Internet. And that's how the world gets to know. Then there are highly popular websites that host pictures/ videos of women taken by their husbands/boyfriends . You never really know who you are likely to bump into:  it could be the woman next-door. Sex Sells No wonder sex sells so shamelessly these days. Shame belonged to the 1980s, when parents squirmed every time they showed family planning commercials promoting Nirodh, the condom, on Doordarshan.