Campaign - http://www.afaqs.com/perl/news/story.html?sid=26689
My review:
I dont agree with the nimbooz campaign here as it does not make me feel like going and grabbing a bottle of nimbooz like the way the cadbury bournville ads did.
Nimbooz has a more holistic campaign and could do more with their stories than just make us relate to our cultural similarities and indian mentality.
I like the ad where the salesman quenches his thirst with a bottle of nimbooz. A lot of us relate to the advertisement.
Nimbooz can come up with a campaign where they talk about health hazards of drinking road side nimboo pani.
As the Pepsico Vice President rightly points out there is much room for competition and this will make brands explore different facets of a nimboo pani campaign.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Monday, March 8, 2010
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Piss on Puritans
I always wanted to kick start a poetry club at SIMC but like many of my actionable thoughts this too never saw the light of day. I did write a poem to attract people to join the club.
I think every person who scribbles those few lines and considers himself to be a poet deserves one opportunity to explain his thoughts behind those words strung.
Well from now on my posts will be succinct to the core.
Ladies and Gentleman - Piss on Puritans
I think every person who scribbles those few lines and considers himself to be a poet deserves one opportunity to explain his thoughts behind those words strung.
Well from now on my posts will be succinct to the core.
Ladies and Gentleman - Piss on Puritans
PISS ON PURITANS
The floating clouds,
The fleeting stairs,
The lovely green,
The classroom screen.
The lovers part,
A broken heart,
The lonely boy,
The customary coy.
The open book,
The open mind,
The colorful thought,
The position sought.
The cool breeze,
Sandwich and cheese
The garam chai,
The high five.
The silent shout,
The frustration out,
The inner voice,
The relaxed poise.
The professor from Kellogs,
The dude from Wharton,
The horned devil,
The Good Samaritan.
We welcome all to the “Piss On Puritans”
We are not Romans,
But we do think
Talk of the devil, or the Creator,
Let’s meet at the amphitheatre.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Thursday, February 18, 2010
TV on my laptop
F.R.I.E.N.D.S. - Well this needs no introduction. FRIENDS has been and will always be the first love of a growing teenager. Grad days, college life, roommates, undying friendship, girlfriends, breakups, looking for the best alternative, whispering sweet nothings, laughing with the voiceover even if you did not get the joke in the first place, slumber parties, dreams ........................ Coffee Shop takes a break
College over, Work or Post Grad College.... New friends, things change, maturity creeps in and there is a shift in tastes and preferences by second year college. Next comes - How I met you mother. Loved it. Sweared by it. Barney Stinson is the best TV character ever created. Waited for every episode till the 5th season. Come Season 5, the mother is no where in scene. I am tired of Barney nailing 7 different girls in a week. I am tired of McLarens's pub. The fizz is gone. Just when I am watching HIMYM out of boredom because I did not find any other series grappling enough, Californication landed up on my laptop.
Season 1 is always the best of any new TV series which remotely breaks the clutter. Lets see how long this holds my interest. FRIENDS became better with every passing season. I guess it was my first love as far as TV series goes. It will always remain special.
Coffee shops - Pubs - Drinking at home - Next is what?
In all the TV Series relationships have been shown to be utterly confusing, baffling beyond the realms of human comprehension. The music becomes mellow, the shots linger for eternity, the close up of locking lips still manage the ubiquitous sigh from the female polulace.
College over, Work or Post Grad College.... New friends, things change, maturity creeps in and there is a shift in tastes and preferences by second year college. Next comes - How I met you mother. Loved it. Sweared by it. Barney Stinson is the best TV character ever created. Waited for every episode till the 5th season. Come Season 5, the mother is no where in scene. I am tired of Barney nailing 7 different girls in a week. I am tired of McLarens's pub. The fizz is gone. Just when I am watching HIMYM out of boredom because I did not find any other series grappling enough, Californication landed up on my laptop.
Season 1 is always the best of any new TV series which remotely breaks the clutter. Lets see how long this holds my interest. FRIENDS became better with every passing season. I guess it was my first love as far as TV series goes. It will always remain special.
Coffee shops - Pubs - Drinking at home - Next is what?
In all the TV Series relationships have been shown to be utterly confusing, baffling beyond the realms of human comprehension. The music becomes mellow, the shots linger for eternity, the close up of locking lips still manage the ubiquitous sigh from the female polulace.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Poetic Atyachar
A picture of you,
A rush of blood.
The time spent with you,
The closing of eyes.
Who am I kidding?
Who do you love?
Where are we going?
Where do we meet?
What are you thinking?
What do you want?
Why did you do this?
Why am I asking now?
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Letter to Mr Ass
Dear Mr Terrorist,
Stop killing innocent people on the sly. Be a man! If you want equality, let both opponents grab a grenade and then let's see who pisses in his pants. You want an eye for an eye, but for that you have to face us and look into our eyes. You think we wriggle with fear every time we step outside our houses, think again! You live life off the records - No identity, an Unknown Citizen.
Its better to burn than fade away - Curt Cobain
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
A collector's guide to Rubble Rabble
I close my eyes and reflect back on all the things I have ever collected in my life.
"What is your hobby?" - Its an oft repeated question in any interview, ice breaking session, stage 2 of introduction, filling dead air, drinking conversations and just about anytime when we establish our points of diffrentiation and POP goes our eyes and we start rambling about all the rubble we have collected with passion.
I have collected a lot of things in my life but have not cataloged them like a connoisseur. Either I have been too lazy or I just love to collect and not follow rules which will tag me as an official collector. There is an element of romance in building up a collection. You spot the article you collect from a distance and there is a sudden spring in your feet, a mild adrenaline rush to reach out and grab, a twinkle in your eye, a feeling of childish joy when you own the object or a sense of dejection if you can't. Either ways you leave the place with a dream in your eyes, a smile on your face and a sigh of joy or "will come back to you later" kind of feeling.
Every year I go to the Kala Ghoda Art festival with a special motive in mind - Collect bookmarks. I love everything associated with the festival - the events, dance, movies and documentaries screened, photography, paintings, expression of creativity in the most simplistic manner possible, pseudo intellectualism, the jhola clad art and culture aficionado, the pretty young things strutting all over the place with a motive of getting spotted by the media or a fashion bigwig, the haute couture aunties who will go to London for a haircut but will buy local handicrafts for their maids as part of their CSR activity, Uncle Letch who has recently filed his fourth divorce and is scouting for scatter brains, the genuine art lover, herds of Rolling Stones (students who have no idea what to do in life, where to go, why they are there, what is their passion? ... well I fall in this category :-P) and hawk eyed businessmen and traders who can spot the genius in you from a mile and buy you out too early before you understand the difference between a million and ten lakhs.
This year was no exception. I went to the Kala Ghoda Art Festival to score bookmarks. I was accompanied by my friend Shagun, whose sole intention was to eat at the stalls and buy personal care products. I have no intrerest in personal care and hence all the ayurvedic products were NATURALly uninteresting to me. She labelled me as a freak when she saw me collecting visiting cards. I use visiting cards in hand made paper as a bookmark. Some of them are brilliantly done and I was ready to BUY some of them. The owners smiled at me and gave me 2 instead of one when I appreciated their innovative and eye catching visiting cards. Well to her and a lot of people "bookmarks" are something which you get it for free at CROSSWORD or any bookstore when you buy a book. There is no need to scout for them and pay money for bookmarks.
One man's rubble is another man's collection. You either become a collector or a Rubble Rabble.
"What is your hobby?" - Its an oft repeated question in any interview, ice breaking session, stage 2 of introduction, filling dead air, drinking conversations and just about anytime when we establish our points of diffrentiation and POP goes our eyes and we start rambling about all the rubble we have collected with passion.
I have collected a lot of things in my life but have not cataloged them like a connoisseur. Either I have been too lazy or I just love to collect and not follow rules which will tag me as an official collector. There is an element of romance in building up a collection. You spot the article you collect from a distance and there is a sudden spring in your feet, a mild adrenaline rush to reach out and grab, a twinkle in your eye, a feeling of childish joy when you own the object or a sense of dejection if you can't. Either ways you leave the place with a dream in your eyes, a smile on your face and a sigh of joy or "will come back to you later" kind of feeling.
Every year I go to the Kala Ghoda Art festival with a special motive in mind - Collect bookmarks. I love everything associated with the festival - the events, dance, movies and documentaries screened, photography, paintings, expression of creativity in the most simplistic manner possible, pseudo intellectualism, the jhola clad art and culture aficionado, the pretty young things strutting all over the place with a motive of getting spotted by the media or a fashion bigwig, the haute couture aunties who will go to London for a haircut but will buy local handicrafts for their maids as part of their CSR activity, Uncle Letch who has recently filed his fourth divorce and is scouting for scatter brains, the genuine art lover, herds of Rolling Stones (students who have no idea what to do in life, where to go, why they are there, what is their passion? ... well I fall in this category :-P) and hawk eyed businessmen and traders who can spot the genius in you from a mile and buy you out too early before you understand the difference between a million and ten lakhs.
This year was no exception. I went to the Kala Ghoda Art Festival to score bookmarks. I was accompanied by my friend Shagun, whose sole intention was to eat at the stalls and buy personal care products. I have no intrerest in personal care and hence all the ayurvedic products were NATURALly uninteresting to me. She labelled me as a freak when she saw me collecting visiting cards. I use visiting cards in hand made paper as a bookmark. Some of them are brilliantly done and I was ready to BUY some of them. The owners smiled at me and gave me 2 instead of one when I appreciated their innovative and eye catching visiting cards. Well to her and a lot of people "bookmarks" are something which you get it for free at CROSSWORD or any bookstore when you buy a book. There is no need to scout for them and pay money for bookmarks.
One man's rubble is another man's collection. You either become a collector or a Rubble Rabble.
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