JournalismPakistan.com December 30, 2014
I have never figured out why we don’t reflect the spirit of the ad world in real life. Like my wife never smiles with unconcealed rapture when she fiddles about with her little Mini-Mixi. Hey, there, I say, why so glum, that slicer is your bestest chum. Poetry at large.
See the lady in the ad. She has that look of utter contentment on her face. You can see she was born to mash and grind and dice and chop. From her expression you would think she leaps out of the bed in the morning and sings, Me and Mini-Mixi, swingin’ along, singin’ a song, side by side, give me carrots, give me beans, give me corn and some mutton, watch me mince with a touch of the button.
Women working in the kitchen in advertising look happy. Their food looks happy. Their squeaky clean children look happy and when they rush in for lunch they hug Mumsy with sheer joy and Mum, every hair in place, she says, see what I made, 27 dishes (all hot) for my little babykins, all thanks to my Mini-Mix.
In real life kids say, yech, carrots again. And Mum says, eat your food you ungrateful kids, I have been slaving away in the kitchen all day, cutting and chopping, no gratitude, this is the thanks I get. But you have a Mini-Mix, Mom. So, so, so what, you think it’s fun going whirrrr the whole day, ever tried cleaning the thing.
Wives have a defence. They say ad husbands are people they certainly did not marry. In the ad the husband comes home and goes for the dinner with splendid vigour because it has all been made in non cholesterol Suppilla oil.
Darling, he mumbles ecstatically between mouthfuls, I love you and I love Suppilla, thank you so much for caring for my health. And she beams like a headlight slicing fog. Then she kisses the Suppilla tin.
In real life, husband comes home and says, whataday, the boss is a real pain, he’s driving me nuts, what’s for dinner. And she produces this repast of 27 dishes. What do you think I am made of, he yelps, no wonder we can’t save, there is enough here to feed the second army, where do you get off cooking so much, who is going to eat it, huh? Then he takes a bite of the kebab and he says, too much salt and why do you have to make them so greasy, you know I can’t stand oil, why can’t you make them like my mother makes them? She bursts into tears and kicks the Suppilla tin out of the door.
Ads can be dangerous. Like this one we were watching the other night where this lady has been having a ball doing the washing up of dishes all because she used Soodsy suds or something and not only is she bestowed with the most sparkling cutlery in the world she also has soft hands, that’s because Soodsy is so kind to them.
So, we are watching this and me and my big mouth, I say, so how come you keep buying all those expensive creams and lotions when you can manage with five bucks worth of Soodsy, bathe in the bally stuff, if your skin comes out looking this good, you are home free.
There is this long, gluey silence, followed by a ‘has anyone ever told you how unfunny you are’ remark. Look at her hands, I say, I mean Soodsy’s smothering them with kindness, not just that, we could have dazzling forks and knives to boot. Gluey silence extends itself. The rest of the story unfolds downhill and need interest nobody.
(The writer is a Senior Editorial Advisor of Khaleej Times and the paper’s former Editor. He has also been the Editor of Gulf News, Gulf Today, Emirates Today and Bahrain Tribune)
The News, March 29, 2019
As we move into the second week of the stay-home directive, many of us must be discovering a new inner self, and how much we take for granted and miss it sorely when it is gone.Read more... | Archives
A study conducted by JournalismPakistan.com and Communications Research Strategies on the economic situation of slain journalists' families and journalists displaced due to security threats.