Desicritics Category: Media: Advertising

POGO, Kellogg's Special K, and Body Image Issues

Deepti Lamba — Fri, 20 Feb 2009 14:11:46 EST

Yesterday just as we sat down at Coffee Day my seven year old eyed me and told me with twinkling eyes "Ma, You are fat." I gasped for breath. I asked him where he had heard about fat. He shook his head and gave me his usual - Don't know and dug into his Black Forest Cake.

I wasn't about to give him an explanation about fitting into a size 12 jeans after 4 months of rigorous work outs or that giving birth to him, his sister and taking care of them had made me 'fat'. I wasn't going down the defensive mode with a 7 year old child.

I was more interested in knowing where he had come across the concept of body image. And it didn't take me long. Today while the kids watched toons on POGO the Special K ad rolled in. And before my horrified eyes I heard a small girl talking about her mom looking like Aishwarya Rai and her mom laughed and said she had lost two kilos by being on Special K. The little angel ranted about her mom looking the prettiest in the school and my mouth hung open.

What kind of shit was this? I looked at my son and then back at the TV. It was bad enough that cable channels were feeding shit to our kids about junk food but now we had cereals sneaking in body image neurosis to our underage children.

Where is the protest from parents about these sorts of ads? Maybe its time Kellogg's was taken to court for propagating unhealthy habits to our kids. Can you imagine a kid asking just for sugary cereals for 2 meals to be skinny?

Anyone who has tasted Special K would tell you that its like sugary wood shavings. And to be on a cereal diet is the worst thing one can do to their body. Eating right and exercising is the best way to leading a healthy life.

Once the ad finished I spoke to my son and told him that not everything that is seen on TV is the truth. And that having a fat or skinny mother doesn't make the child happy, what makes a child happy is having a mommy who loves him.

And that if I ever heard him say those words to anyone I would personally come and teach him the meaning of respect.

He looked at me with big saucer eyes and asked 'Why?"

I replied that it was the meanest and most hurtful thing to say and he wasn't a mean boy.

His mind switched gears when he realized his mother was done lecturing and asked if he could go out and play. I nodded absentmindedly, still upset about the kind of bogeymen we were letting into our homes via kiddie channels.

An Open Letter To Arindam Chaudhuri

Hardik Ruparel — Sat, 31 Jan 2009 01:11:56 EST

//Post updated 02/02/09

Dear Arindam,

You seem to have posted a rather audacious and untrue blog post about the movie Slumdog Millionaire. I agree, you said what you had in your little mind. Now I'll say what I have in mine.

You had the audacity to publish that ridiculous blog post as your paid advertisement in the newspaper. As if anyone reads it. I'm not too concerned about that. I'm just concerned where your corporate attitude is taking you. So, I've devised a plan for you to get back your life on track, or as the Pope would say, Rid You of Your Sins...

1) Sort out the Unfair Trade Practises charge against your nursery school, if you haven't already. ( Chill man..Just read it off the news online.)

Also check this bit on MRTPC's directive to probe these claims.

2) Pay your taxes dude ! The Tax Evasion charges don't look so great on your already sucky IIPM's brochure. Check this. Also this

3) Stop suing people who want to spread the truth. As long as Rashmi Bansal has the government on her side, she has nothing to worry about. Neither does Gaurav Sabnis

And don't even think about suing me. All the claims I've made have already been made by by the press and the Indian government. For simplicity, I've included them so you don't have to waste your time on the news websites. As far as my opinions are concerned, well those are entirely my own and you can't do anything about it.

4) Read the page IIPM Controversies on Wikipedia. Try editing it and I'll edit it back. Fun game eh?

5) Stop criticizing movies like Slumdog Millionaire. They're excellent.

Elaborating on the last point, I have many things on my mind..

Firstly, Indian directors have made such good movies. Rang De Basanti? Lagaan? And they've been equally well received by critics and appropriate credit has been given to the movie makers. So don't blame others if you only watch chick flicks.

You say the film doesn't have sincerity and honesty. Well, we all know how honest you are. The movie's honesty is quite clear. For people like you fed with a golden spoon in your mouth, it may require you to watch it some 20 times before you see it

And you're so bothered about India being portrayed as a third world country with slums and slumdogs? Well, we do have all that. And much worse. People keep talking about terrorism. But leave the terrorists alone. The real terrorism is in the poverty stricken India. The terrorists are doing their job just fine. People like you aren't. You just want to get richer. Accept that or nobody will ever respect you.

Then you say the movie shows slums, open-air lavatories, riots, underworld, prostitution, brothels, child labour, begging, blinding and maiming of kids to make them into ‘better beggars’, petty peddlers, traffic jams, irresponsible call centre executives…

But again, these are India's assets! Not really the ones we're proud of, but India wouldn't be India if it weren't for all these. Accept your country for what it is.

It's true, the movie has a Dark side about it, but again why do Indians always want happy movies. Accept the movie for what it is. It's a drama. Not a documentary. Stop making up bullshit and drilling people's minds with it.

I guess I could rant on about your antics but I wouldn't want to waste any more of my time on this topic.

Yours,

Hardik Ruparel

What if the New York Times Did Not Exist?

Dr Bhaskar Dasgupta — Sat, 10 Jan 2009 08:31:18 EST

I was reading somewhere (and now I have forgotten and am too old to rack the 2.3 neurons I have to worry about where) that the New York Times is one of the most hyperlinked and commented upon source for news for bloggers. It is indeed the most visited newspaper site in the USA. Yes, I would tend to agree. It has great quality, great coverage and is what I would call as a great newspaper. Here's a graphic showing the NYT's coverage of the world from here.

Pretty amazing coverage across the world, wouldn't you say? If you compare that with other newspapers (and I dont have any pretty graphics to show unfortunately), i would have said that this bubble graph is pretty good when you compare other newspapers ranging from the LA Times, Chicago Tribune, Washington Post, The Times, Guardian, Le Monde, etc. etc. You can forget the sub continental papers anyway. The only exception would be the English language papers in the gulf but they appeal to the expat population so I am not sure if that is applicable as a comparison.

But I digress. But blogging and web 2.0 bits (such as facebook, my space, twitter, etc. are changing the world) check out these two graphics which illustrate this issue. View from the blogosphere and from NYT. Quite an interesting difference, no? But life is changing rapidly and the financials of the newspaper world are changing rapidly. The future is not as good, have written about this issue before (see here, here, here, etc.).

But now its the economics of the situation which is seriously blighting the situation. Circulation in the USA is dropping rapidly. and there is simply not enough money. Newspapers after newspapers are simply folding or changing their business model or laying off people what have you. And I am not talking tiddlers, the LA Times and Chicago Tribune have gone bankrupt, but what about the NYT? The NYT has pawned its headquarters and the numbers are not looking good. Here's a bit of an analysis which will send shivers down any US newspaper proprietor's backside.

Take the New York Times Company. It generated $74.4m in online advertising in the third quarter, 10.2 per cent more than in the same quarter in 2007. But the $6.9m increase in online ad sales was dwarfed by the $73.7m decline in print advertising revenues, which plunged by 18.6 per cent. Even if it managed to halve its $677m quarterly operating expenses by dropping the hard copy, online ad revenues would cover just 22 per cent of its running costs.
Strip out the NYT’s other sites, such as About.com, and assume those third quarter online ad sales were generated only by NYTimes.com. That makes the 20.3m unique readers who used the site worth about $1.22 each per month, a fraction of the value of a print subscriber. To break even as an ad-funded digital-only business, with a quarterly cost base of, say, $338m, NYTimes.com – already the number one newspaper site in the US – would either need four times as many unique users or ad rates four times as high as today’s, or a bit of both.

The recession is biting and biting hard, which means that the pressure on the advertising segment is fierce. The revenue/costs scissors are simply yawning wider and wider. A Deloitte report in December 08 predicts that one out of every 10 print publications predicted to half frequency, go online-only or close down in 2009. Plus in such an IP driven business, you cannot change the costs that easily. The solutions as given by the FT are obviously not possible, they cannot quadruple their readership nor can the current (or even the 2 year future at least) think about increasing ad rates. Forget about increasing, currently even the online advertising rates are diving like a dingo down its hole. See the Ad Price Index report from October here. I quote

Throughout the year, display advertising pricing has generally trended downwards across website sizes and verticals
All categories moved down from last quarter, with the exception of Technology which stayed flat
Entertainment had the most significant drop of all verticals, dropping 42% from 57 cents in Q1 08 to 33 cents in Q3 08

And its not just in USA, the impact of the drop in advertising is felt across the pond as well with certain titles reporting drops of more than 50% per year. See the impact on Journalist numbers here with thousands of redundancies in the UK itself so USA will be impacted correspondingly more. You can merge newsrooms, you can adjust staffing levels, use better technology to reduce telecom costs, travel costs, etc. outsource news production to India, reduce training costs, and so on and so forth, but its not going to help much.

But to go back to the title of the post, the chances are high that the NYT is going to go under. And that will indeed be a shame. One of the crucial aspects and guarantors of a free, just, fair and democratic society is the presence of a free and transparent press. If the media suffers as it is doing now, it will cause issues for our society. Would a BBC model help? A model of publicly funded media generation and broadcasting? Hmmm, can the BBC model be enhanced? Such as splitting the production, commissioning, broadcasting and distribution arms? Something of that nature will be required because the loss of NYT will indeed leave our society a poorer place.

Technorati Tags: journalism,internet

Persevere - And Change Your World

Shantanu Dutta — Sun, 10 Aug 2008 13:33:12 EDT

The Dainik Bhaskar group of newspapers is running an interesting advertising campaign titled “zid karo –duniya badlo" - persist and change the world. The campaign provides illustrations about how Indians have typically taken the path of least resistance in life – if you encounter a road that has been dug up, you take a different road… if eve teasing is prevalent, and you simply tell your daughter, sister, wife - whoever - to simply stay at home. Instead of trying to deal with the issue at hand…. The simpler thing of course is to simply evade the problem and seek out a short term solution.

Most of us I guess are busy getting on with our lives…. We are busy doing so many things that we have no time to get involved … and that is the honest truth. But equally true is the fact that in any society there are several competing voices clamoring for attention and each voice has its logic and rationale trying to justify why they alone should be heard and none other.

Change is only going to happen only when sufficient numbers of people join hands to draw attention to a mistake or an injustice or indifference on part of the state or authors in authority. Some people may call it advocacy, some may call it lobbying. Further, some may be professionals whose job it is to draw attention to matters which are hitherto invisible like the media or it could be the ordinary citizen.

Because social change is slow in coming, most of us give up along the way. We live in a world where most of us are taught to expect rapid results or examine our methods. Persistence nor patience is not in our vocabulary. But as the Dainik Bhaskar campaign reminds us, perseverance is the key. Zid karo aur karte raho ta key ek din duniya sunne ke liye majboor ho jaye” advises the narrator very wisely.

“Will I make a difference” is one question that we often ask as we mentally prioritize our day and push any thing that will not contribute to our career and the pursuit of creature comforts and carry on with life leaving the space of vocalizing demand and expressing concerns to fanatics of various shades- religious and other.

“Will I get the credit” is the other question that we ask and because most often the answer is no, we give up and get on with our life. Persistence is not an easy option at the best of times and the fact that often there are no tangible rewards to the time and energy expended is a good reason to opt out. But if there is one place where that well known quote that “there is no limit to the amount of good you can do if you don't care who gets the credit” it is here – in the battle to make change happen, reform happen, behaviors change , obscurantist practices disappear and many other changes that are needed in our society.

Far too many things we leave to our leadership to act on – be it the political leadership or any other. But even the best of leaders will only act on the voices, demands and representations that are made to them. their opinions , views and decisions will be largely shaped by the many things they see and hear - some tangible, but largely intangible.

Silent whispers begin in the mind of one man or woman. That whisper over time can be magnified into a voice that cannot be easily ignored. A whisper can become a cry…a yell… a demand that cannot be easily put aside. Some times many whispers coalesce into one amplified note. But shaping and reforming of world views is not the matter of a day or even months… it can and usually takes years and that journey is filled with disillusionment, discouragement and jeering and criticism from those whose world views are being threatened. But as the Dainik Bhaskar advertisement reminds us, zid - that dogged perseverance and persistence that simply will not be cowed down is the way to go. If you want to change world views, opinions, thoughts, policies, laws. There is only one sustainable way - Persevere. “Zid karo aur duniya badlo….”

Fiction: Dreading Ugly Girls

Chaitanya S — Thu, 31 Jul 2008 13:22:46 EDT

The sun beat down harshly, immediately distorting the contour of my expression. With crinkled eyelids I stared blankly at the buildings below as a whiff of smoke escaped my tanned pursed lips. I paced around slowly. The brain was ticking and the lungs were puffing. The terrace of my office building was an ideal place for my “brainstorming breaks”. Creative ideas blended with a dash of black coffee and a hint of smoke made a magic potion. The potion on which I believed my modeling agency thrived on. Minutes would turn to hours at times; thinking of the next fashion show or the next magazine shoot. Faces of fashion photographers, choreographers, designers, stylists and models would emerge through the smoke and spin in my head like a jackpot machine. The risks and benefits of every combination would be calculated in my head. Suddenly there would be a glimpse of light in my clouded mind and I’d run down to break the plan of action to my team.

My mind was focused on a print shoot for a ladies denim commercial for the Middle East. I had already zeroed in on the photographer. The only bone of contention was which young ladies to select. They had to look beautiful, nothing else, simply gorgeous. Tall, slim, good features, nice long hair and fair. The industry demanded fair girls for print shoots. Dusky girls with average features were useless for this. They were good enough for the ramp if they were tall and slim enough. But even they were taken grudgingly. I was an integral part of a shallow world. But that shallow world paid for the comfortable lifestyle which I led. Changing the world or people’s perception wasn’t my concern. My mind shifted to the numerous aspiring models that came to me for work. I didn’t give two hoots to their “talents”. If they did not fit the “conventional” look, I offered them tea; chit chatted, took their photographs and assured them that someone from my office would get in touch soon. I didn’t have the heart to say, “You are no good. Your looks will never work. Please go back home and do something else.” The pictures were immediately confined to the welcoming bosom of my trash can.I still wasn’t part of the shallow world though. After every such meeting, I needed a fag to get over the uneasiness. It was the hope in those eyes. The hope and trust which would haunt me. The hope and trust which I strangled, the moment the pictures touched the bin.Then slowly I turned cold. I assimilated myself in that world. My job was to sell dreams. I started living in a dream myself. My smile became my mask. I became a parody of myself. I started disliking people who were not good looking. I felt they were coming to office and wasting my time. The same time which I could dedicate to “deserving” people. At times I made it a point to tell them that. Mostly I did it in a politically correct manner. Sometimes I was blunt. But I didn’t care. I had a business to run and salaries to pay.Gradually the sight of bad features, bad hair, bad dressing started making me uneasy. My soul turned shallow, then dry and finally I could feel it die. I know it died because I felt empty. It lay buried somewhere in the four walls of my agency. I never quite realized the subtle transition of my soul into arrogance. The only thing that remained of my previous self was my “carton of 20”. The hopeful eyes still haunted me though. But I knew a drag was all it took to cloud those thoughts away.Outside the office, I was myself again. Maybe that’s why I always liked going to the terrace to think. The fresh sea breeze felt liberating. It allowed me to think in peace without being disturbed. My soul felt alive again. It was the only place where I could be at ease with my “oral companion”.

A trickle of sweat ran down my neck and made me wince. Another drag before I shifted base to the cooler confines under the parapet on which the water tank rested. It was when I moved there that I realized that I was not alone on the terrace that evening.

My soot stained lips broke into a genuine smile on seeing her pudgy dusky features. However, the hint of coldness in my heart screamed, “For that skin tone, at least use a hint of bronzer to liven it up”. Her hair was tied neatly in a tight pony tail, a far cry from the cute step cuts which were in vogue. Her simple denims and tee did not make any attempt to hide her ample frame. In my office, a girl looking like that would have been spurned. I disliked bulky people. I just felt they were too lazy to exercise. “I hate people who abused their bodies”, I would tell my near and dear ones even as an extra layer of soot collected over my lungs. “How many times have I said no wearing sneakers on flared denims”, my heart wailed. She was a stark contrast to the girls who visited my agency and those who worked there. But that day she did not flash her pearly whites on seeing me.She worked in the office next doors. We would often meet in the corridor or elevator and exchange pleasantries. Then we started having brief conversations since the car park where I kept my car and her bus stop were in the same direction. She was a well read girl and we would discuss books for that brief period. She was sharp with her words and fluent in Hindi and English. She could think on the spot and had a ready wit. I called her a walking talking lexicon. These qualities helped her become an accomplished telemarketer. At the end of every month, she would proudly tell me that she had over achieved her targets. I always appreciated and related more to self made people.

She never quite knew why her boss never sent her out for client calls. Such marketing offered higher financial rewards and better networking opportunities to further ones career. She definitely had the capabilities of pulling it off. I expressed my curiosity to her boss once when I bumped into him in the elevator. He smirked and patted my shoulder. “We sell high end perfumes, son. I don’t want to scare my clients. He gave a chuckle. You know what she looks like! And her dressing, she needs some tips from your staff!” We had reached the landing to our office as he completed his sentence. My soul always disappeared on that floor. I smirked and chuckled harder than him. I was amused by my own stupidity.

I walked up to her. My grin was genuine and my mind was clear of the modeling world. “Hey. And how are we doing today? Good girls shouldn’t be sitting in “shady” places all by themselves”. I ruffled her hair playfully and sat down on the cement flooring next to her. She gave me a blank look; her eyes were of a crimson hue. She’d always been cheerful whenever I’d met her. This was something I wasn’t used to.

She sniffled and looked me in the eye. “Got another drag?” I crossed my eyebrows. I wasn’t expecting that. “Yeah I do. I didn’t know you smoke. I don’t think you should.” She eased my companion out of my fingers and took a deep puff. Her eyes burned with a sanguine radiance as the smoke hissed out of her lips over my face. Then she coughed and tears ran down her dark cheeks. Immediately taking the stub out of her hand, I extinguished it on the floor. I put my arm round her comfortingly and smiled lightly. “Don’t worry. I’m here for you. Let those tears flow and it’ll make you feel better.” My shoulder got wet as tears flowed on it. I sat still, not knowing how to react. I needed to think. To think I needed a quick drag.

I stroked her hair comfortingly while my brain raced. “Maybe she’s had a fight with her boyfriend”, I said to myself. Immediately a voice from within smirked, “Do you really think she will have a boyfriend. I mean look at her. I wouldn’t date her if she was the last woman on this planet”. “Love is blind”, I countered. “Of course it is. Else ugly people would never be loved.” I quickly pulled out a cigarette and popped it between my lips. With slightly shaking hands, I flicked open my Zippo and readily inhaled the soothing draft of air. It had a magical effect and squabble within me ceased immediately.

She moved her face off my shoulder. I gazed into her pink orbs and smiled lightly. I could see pain, hurt, confusion and embarrassment all rolled in one look. I handed her my cigarette. That was the only cure which I could vouch for and the only one which was at hand. “Thanks”, she muttered coldly before closing her eyes and taking a drag. A tear rolled down the side of her eye as I lit a cigarette for myself.

Weeping girls made me panic. Most of the girls I knew could open a faucet within themselves at the drop of a hat. They could use those tears as a weapon to attack you or as a shield to defend their actions. Either way men had no chance of fighting back. Reasoning was always futile; I had learnt the hard way.

I glanced at her. The nicotine in her blood stream seemed to have a calming effect on her. Balancing the cigarette in my lips I pulled out my handkerchief and handed it to her. I took her hand gently in mine and took a drag before speaking in a low voice, “Hey, thank God you don’t wear any makeup, these tear stains would have definitely ruined your pretty face”.

“Pretty ! Pretty ! You think this face is pretty !”, she exploded. She hadn’t released the smoke before screaming and her words were drowned in a bought of heavy coughing. She jerked her hand out of mine and gave me a hard look. “You bloody well know I’m not pretty. And it’s no secret either. I’m ugly, goddamit and you would be the first person to notice that”. My eyes widened and I took a couple of quick fags to calm down. What she said wasn’t completely untrue. It wasn’t what she said that shocked me, but the way in which she said it.

“Who the hell told you that? Of course you are pretty”, I spoke calmly. “You’ve got a wonderful personality and you are a good person and it shows on your face……In your body language. Trust me, I’m your friend.” I smiled lightly as I watch her aggression subsiding.

“Then why the fuck do guys reject me for marriage on the basis of my looks?” she mutter meekly. For that I had no answer. I did not even know her family was out looking for prospective suitors. Marriage was an alien concept to me and it hardly ever crossed my mind.

“Every time I meet someone, the reply the very next day is the same. NO. My parents are too embarrassed to tell me, but I’m not stupid. I understand. My parents drop subtle hints, asking me to lose weight. I can do it for health reasons, but why should I change myself for someone else?” Tears started bulging under her eyes again and I quickly gestured towards the handkerchief.

“I’ve never even had a boyfriend. I know it’s my looks. But how can I help it if I was born this way? I have dreams too; I want to have a family. I want to have kids. But everywhere I go, I get a look and I know what it means. Guys want fair, slim girls. Why is dark considered ugly in this country?”

I listened quietly. I had never imagined girls could face such problems. Why an independent and intelligent young lady being reduced to tears because of a frivolous thing like marriage was beyond me. But again it was a question of priorities. She wanted a family and kids of her own, and I respected her priorities.

“I wanted some good photographs, remember? I’d come to you and you said you’d get back to me regarding that. You never did. I wanted them for a marriage website and I’d heard you bragging about making people look prettier than they were”. I cringed. I remembered that meeting and how I had reacted. I always felt shooting someone ugly was an insult to my skill and my camera. I was an artist and I chose whom I wanted to shoot. Despite being avarice, I’d rather give a monetary loan to somebody than shoot pictures of a person with average looks. “You know how busy I’ve been”, I muttered timidly.

I managed a smile and took her hand again. “Forget the photographs for now. You don’t need all that. You are an amazing girl and that’s what’s important. You don’t look ugly. You’ve got lovely features; you just need to smile and show off your pearly white teeth to accentuate them. And there is nothing that a nice haircut can’t fix. We just need to change your dressing slightly and you’ll be physically all ready to have guys drooling when you walk. And don’t feel as if I’m changing you, you’ll still be yourself. I’m just suggesting some minor tweaks. And don’t feel you are doing it for a stranger; just think you are doing it for me”.

“Once that is taken care of, you’ve got everything a guy would want in a girl. You are intelligent. You can talk on varied subjects. And have I told you I love your sense of humor? You are the only one who makes me laugh so much after a long day at work. And your poems are some of the best which I’ve heard in ages. And you have a way with words which is very flattering. I love the way you speak sweetly over the phone with your clients”. She had tossed the cigarette aside and was gazing at me and listening intently as I spoke about her. I highlighted all her positives and it took a while since she really was talented. I mentioned how good she was around people and how she made everyone comfortable in her presence. We continued to talk for almost an hour after that. She smiled and finally she was laughing again.

I glanced at my watch. I had a client to meet in office downstairs and even she had been away from her desk for a while. As the sun started setting in the sea across our building, the sky was filled with a crimson hue. It was the same hue which was visible in her eyes an hour ago. As the day was coming closer to its conclusion, so was our conversation. We got up and took the stairs down to our office floor. I was repeating all her qualities to drive them in her brain and boost her confidence. She was smiling and she seemed to be in high spirits again. I could see the joy in her eyes, something which I hadn’t seen for ages. I tossed the cigarette aside. I could feel good without it.

Just one more flight of stairs down and we would have reached our destination. Words were flowing consistently through my lips. “So anyone who says no to you isn’t worth your time because you are precious. And you know….Any guy who marries you will be the luckiest guy in this whole world….And…” “She grabbed my hand and turned me to face her. Her hope filled gaze was locked in mine. She spoke in a low expectant voice, “Will you marry me?”

My soul always disappeared on that floor. I turned cold. My job was to sell dreams. It was the hope in those eyes. The hope and trust which would haunt me forever. “No”, I said coldly.

The hopeful eyes still haunt me. Even a drag isn't enough now to cloud those thoughts away.

Deccan Chronicle And The Naked Art of Selling News

Kishore — Sun, 8 Jun 2008 08:49:25 EDT

In the age where our most inner and intimate matters have been commoditized by corporations, it’s no surprise that sex is being used as a tool to sell products. Many critics of popular culture use the adage "sex sells" to justify the means. Well, though there may be some truth in it, it’s disgusting if a product that comes with an element of the proverbial "social responsibility" resorts to a juvenile representation of its target market for the sake the one thing all business needs – sell more.

A Deccan Chronicle hoarding

If the advertising guys at Deccan Chronicle think this is what young minds are – one heck of perverts ogling at hoardings of naked woman embossed in newspaper prints all over her body, metaphorically meaning to read the newspaper giving particular attention to detail, or whatever crap that was meant to mean – then there has just been a little mistake. Just that we youngsters have a little more sense than to get swayed by pictures of naked women to buy a newspaper.

What’s more intimidating is that their ad doesn’t even talk about the quality of news – the least you would expect of a newspaper – and whenever they remotely do, it’s again a skin-deep expose. Chennai Metblogs carried a post on similar lines with more pictures. Probably the in-house talent pool of Deccan Chronicle Marketing ran out of concrete ideas to increase youngsters’ readership and resorted to the only supposedly sure-to-work strategy – sex appeal.

An independent survey conducted by research firm MediaAnalyzer states that,

While almost half of men (48 percent) said they like sexual ads, few women did (8 percent). Most men (63 percent) said sexual ads have a high stopping power for them; fewer women thought so (28 percent).

If only 8 percent of women give a damn to such an ad, then was it all about increasing Male leadership? Am I hallucinating or does it really sound awkward? If you still think this would make Deccan Chronicle the-ultimate-choice-of-the-young-minds then take a bite at this MediaAnalyzer finding,

Men tend to focus on an ad’s sexual imagery (breasts, legs, skin, etc.), which draws their attention away from other elements of the ad (logo, product shot, headline). This may be why men’s brand recall was worse for the sexual ads than for the nonsexual ones.

So there goes the sex sells theory. Trying to fit an ad suited enough to market a lingerie brand into marketing a newspaper looks as awful as it sounds. They would do a lot of good to themselves, if the nice folks at Deccan Chronicle could stuff their ad-women with some clothes and talk more about how good their news reporting is, so we know exactly what they sell. We youngsters like to see naked truth in newspapers, not naked women.

Travel Report: Korba Street Festival - Heliopolis, Cairo

Kim — Wed, 14 May 2008 02:19:02 EDT

Last Friday was the annual Korba Street festival in Heliopolis - a residential suburb in Cairo.

Baghdad street was closed off to traffic and stalls were put up along the sidewalks. There were stalls from the Asean countries selling native food and some handicrafts.

The Indian stall just had posters urging visitors to visit India. Nothing else. :(

There were tables along the sides for families to relax and grab a bite and the main road was left free for kids to express their creativity on the road with chalk and paints.

Marriott's Bakery, Swiss Inn, Sultana Ice Cream had tables on the road and were serving food there. The Swiss Inn even had a buffet set up on the road. But the more exciting stuff to eat were the street stalls which were selling things like cotton candy,the hummus drink and beans.

I attended in the morning half and left by 1:30pm, before the crowds really started to pour in. This meant I missed out on the musical performances (by Wust el Balad among others) and the puppet show, but what I managed to catch was great anyway.

My friends tell me, there was a short parade later in the noon with flower covered floats and giant coke bottles. More of advertising than Spring flowers was a comment I heard.

What I got to see, kind of reminded me a bit of the Kala Ghoda festival in Bombay, but just a little bit. The concept is similar, but there is so much further that the Korba festival can go. Its a good start though, just to have an open air event in a residential area of Cairo.

I would definitely try to catch it again next year.

Prasar Bharati, Cricket and a Free Lunch - Not!

Sathya — Thu, 27 Mar 2008 00:18:42 EDT

Expecting Prasar Bharti to screen test matches on Doordarshan; is it our way of seeking refuge in socialistic benefits, when being chased by capitalistic behemoths? I would nod my head in agreement and say, “yes it is.”

After all whether we like it or not, Doordarshan is a free lunch, where unlike the BBC in Britain, we don’t pay a license fee to the public broadcaster. In England, every citizen possessing a radio or television is expected to pay a license fee to the BBC. But aren’t we doing the same in our telecom sector, each of the private players pays an Access Deficit Fee to the state carrier – BSNL, for provision of rural connectivity. It is common knowledge that this is passed on to the end user, who probably doesn’t complain much, thanks to the cut-throat competition that has resulted in a geography which boasts of the lowest telecom tariffs. Worthy of mention here is the strategy adopted by Virgin Mobile, a new player in the telecom space. They claim to pay you one tenth of a rupee for every minute of an incoming call. And to think, when you are in Big Brother’s land you would wonder why you are having to pay for an incoming call – The merits of a fledgling market!

Back to the rant. The same Prasar Bharati that would fight in Madras High Court with some of these broadcasting companies, the same Prasar Bharati that would push the parliament for legislations about what it called “Sporting events of National Interest,” this time folded without giving a fight. This time it is not fighting with the Nimbus promoted Neo Sports, for broadcasting the India South Africa series.

The socialist in me is crying foul.

One, I feel the broadcasting rights in our country are extremely overrated. I don’t have any numbers with me, but the amount that broadcasting rights for these matches fetch can be only described as vulgarly excessive.

Two, the way every inch of the television space is littered with advertisements in an effort to monetize every pixel, can just be described as obscene. I didn’t complain, when advertisements between overs overshot the available time. I didn’t complain when a logo of a sponsor was embedded into the on-screen graphics. I didn’t complain when another graphics appeared for a replay, cutting off one corner of the screen. And then another one appeared, and then one more.

Today when I see a ticker/advertisement ticking over the top end of the screen taking along with it a good amount of the players’ faces, I want to look away from the game. The game doesn’t deserve me anymore.

The only way, this overrated broadcasting bubble would have been deflated to a more manageable size would have been if Prasar Bharati had put in a fight for the free signal. The companies would realize that it is not so profitable, if they were to share the signal with the state broadcaster.

Before I get onto how the bubble is only being inflated further by the emergence of the two cricketing leagues, I think I should stop and ask – Does your cable operator provide Neo Sports? Maybe he says it's overpriced. Maybe he says you would have to pay some amount more by way of monthly subscription. Maybe he is the sort who pilfers a signal and ensures that you get to watch the game. Maybe I dream of a day when I can get to see a cricket match, with fences for boundaries unlike advertising hoardings, where the ground is of green grass not painted with the motifs of some corporation and maybe a telecast sans that annoying commercial.

But alas! Like that cliché goes – There ain't nothing called a free lunch!

Indian Media-Leader Oriented, Reader Neglected

Abhinandan Mishra — Thu, 6 Mar 2008 02:37:44 EST

'Freedom of media' is a relative term. It is just not limited to the freedom enjoyed by the media to report everything without being stopped forcefully but also obliging the members of media fraternity so as to stop them from giving out a true picture. The term "obligation'' assumes enormous proportions in the backdrop of media ethics. The modern media is like the now banned 'Mumbai's Bar Clubs' with Market guiding them in all respect. Editors have become Bar Girls? .
All major Indian newspapers with few exceptions have now turned into what is popularly known as "Response run" rather than "editorially run" papers. There was a time when management people were given independent responsibilities to generate revenue and the editorial wing was consider sacrosanct. Now the most of the editors of these papers have to cut a sorry figure in face of a Harvard, IIM or any management institute educated manager, and wisely they have now learned to buckle under the demands and whims of the Response. These days an MBA has more say than an editor in deciding the contents or colour of a newspaper.
As a result of this approach content and quality wise these newspapers are heading southwards and there is nothing astonishing in it as when Ad and revenue generation becomes important the priority than the quality of newspaper goes down. This is a cardinal principle which is always true. The newspapers and magazines have now become any consumer product with perishable value.They have lost their retention capacity by the readers.
The Correspondents are now given the additional responsibility of procuring state sponsored advertisements for their respective newspapers. There are examples of the state and district level or even block level stringers being asked to collect advertisements for special supplements to be brought on Republic Day, Independence Day, State Foundation Day and even foundation Day of the newspaper itself. This is happening even in the villages of Bihar, UP and Jharkhand, where Hindi readership is very large.
This is true for almost all the publications, and in this context it would be foolish to expect that a newspaper will encourage the correspondent to report against the same government which is providing the publication with advertisements that runs into crores.
The 'old lot of journalists' who started their career in the 60s or 70 now find it increasingly difficult to function in this comparatively new Response oriented market environment which demands from them a lot more than just good writing skills.
Everyone knows that Vinod Dua, Rajdeep Sardesai and Barkha Dutt recently accepted the state sponsored Padma Shri but not many are aware of the fact that Pranoy Roy declined the same when it was awarded to him just after the UPA came into power.
There was a time when even the fear of state sponsored prosecution was not able to stop media from speaking out against Indira Gandhi and emergency. Sadly the times have changed.
Readers who have been committed readers of the the self proclaimed Leader of newspapers ,particularly those preparing for the Civil Services now do not subscribe the paper as they are getting better contents in other newspapers. They are getting thought and views from non-leader newspapers as the Leader has lost its serious reader value contents. The Leader is growing in the Market, but not among the Minds as its has lost its "Retention Value". The Leader is more concerned about its TRP now giving good bye to quality reading materials and news. The Response oriented editorials are not liked by the serious and committed readers.
Readers loyalty has shifted from the Leader as the paper has now turned into a 'skin-friendly' paper of the establishment of the Day. The Leader's editorial page which perhaps was its best part too has deteriorated and as for the Sunday pull-out page the less said the better. It is neither interesting nor entertaining leaving alone educative.
This nexus between media-politicians, media-industrialists has always been there but earlier it was healthy interface and the media always knew that being the fourth estate it is under the obligation to keep a check on the other institutions of democracy. And I don't deny that the checks and the controls are still there but now it is more of a "manipulated checks''.
The Freedom of Press is meant only for the Leader and its subsequent followers, not for Readers is confirmed now.

Offensive Ads - The Cad Fad

IdeaSmith — Tue, 19 Feb 2008 00:34:09 EST

I'm quite offended by this new Sprite ad. A lot of ads seem to be offending me these days. No, it isn't because ads have suddenly become offensive, it's because I'm watching more TV, and being increasingly appalled by what popular culture is shoving down our gullets.

To come back to the baki-sab-bakwaas drink, the ad features a guy telling his lady love that he must leave. When she asks Juliet-like why he has to go so early, he replies,

I've a date with my other girlfriend.

*Giggle giggle at boyfriend's mischieviousness*

Cut to boyfriend sliding into seat facing girlfriend no.2 who inquires pettishly, why he's late. And he drawls,

Had a date with my other girlfriend.

*Giggle giggle at boyfriend's mischieviousness*

Underline the "At least I'm honest!!" line along with the standard all-else-is-crap funda. Ting tong.

Tell me again why it's cool to be a cad? Of course I'm peeved by the sexism in that played up by popular culture. Anybody remember an Indipop song a few years ago featuring Lara Dutta double-dating two guys? The song was quite tellingly titled,

Tu chaalu hai re...

Then let me tell you what pisses you off the most. Having to have the following conversation with a close girlfriend:

She: Why on earth do we fall for men like this??
Me: Simple. Lousy taste.

It's not a crime to be a cad, but it should be. Just recently I was called on to testify in one such case (if we may look at things in that light). It's hard to tell whether my testimony would have swayed the verdict but the evidence certainly was damning. And yet, the culprit walked off scot-free. Damn him, damn his ilk. Don't bother telling me that men aren't all the same, please. One rotten creep is enough to ruin the entire barrel of trust. So, how you ask, did I speak? I didn't. Like I said, I doubt my testimony would have changed much.

Lousy taste is something we're all guilty of and I suppose we should be in handcuffs for it, in the same moment that the cads hang.