Monday, October 13, 2008

Material Pressures

... and production lines

If you are not fair and thin, or don't have silky limbs and hair, or a toned body and a glowing face, you are as good as non-existent. Or so the commercials on the idiot box pontificate. They simply beat it into our heads that without their products we have no identity or worse, recognition. I find the whitening and fairness ads most obnoxious. As if dark skinned humans must have only one aim in life, to bleach themselves.

Really, its astonishing that we have mind boggling choices for every small and big thing we need since we wake up to the time we retire again. Brushes, pastes, shaving creams, razors, soaps, shampoos, deodorants, clothes, accessories, vehicles, electronic gadgets, kitchenware, mattresses. Most of these glorify their own merchandise with statistical data or approval from noted authorities in the field. Its the ones which try to pander to my emotions than my intelligence that irk me.

Predominantly its cosmetics that fall into this category of shallow marketing. I used to think fairness was an obsession with the fair sex :), but off late I see ads depicting men being equally inane. And since when is being grey-haired considered an insult ? If you don't dye, you might as well die. Please. Then there are these irrelevant ads which have no connection between the product and the promo. Like a half clad woman appearing in a male inner-wear ad. Defies logic.

One of these days when I see a fat, balding, unshaven, swarthy man, I'll cheer for his belligerence towards these nauseating ads ... unless he has lost his five senses and has no TV.

Friday, October 10, 2008

Xenia

The strange feeling

As I waved at the familiar policeman this morning on my way to work, I was contemplating the strange relation we shared. I don't know a thing about him except that he volunteers to man the chaotic and erratic traffic at the junction near my office. Not even his name. But unlike most of my fellow drivers who make me swear, his cheery salute lifts my spirits and gives my day a brighter start.

While munching through my cornflakes, I continued musing about this odd association and wondered why I never stopped to talk to him. Out of nowhere, many more nameless faces burst into my memory - the waiters who greet me with a smile at the restaurant near my house and show me to my regular table,  the watchmen near my building who dutifully salute each morning, the petrol pump attendants whose faces split into a grin because I always top up my car, the vegetable vendor from whom I buy 1 carrot or 1 onion or 1 capsicum a day, the guava vendor I mentioned elsewhere in this blog, the cashier in my canteen, the list was growing by the minute the more I thought.

I was beginning to feel guilty at this point for never having even bothered to know their names. I knew it had nothing to do with my xenophobia or unsociable nature. Was it plain laziness ? I don't know. I might, one of these days. Till then I'll bask in this paradox of being amidst a bunch of strangers who feel familiar.

PS : For those who think the title is Greek and Latin, its only the former ; meaning hospitality to strangers.