Here’s an interesting write-up by Chinna Ammani on stereotypical portrayals in Indian adverts. The opinion expressed is strong and the language uncompromising. Read at your own peril!-a
The Aiyaiyo Syndrome
These days I do what is called as a shooting supervision. When ads are filmed (with lip sync) in Tamizh, my job is to teach models their lines and rehearse with them. Most of them are from Mumbai and are non-Tamilians. So when they have to do a line in Tamil, for example "Adanaaladan Dettol ubayogikaren" (And that's why I use Dettol) , they invariably say "Aadanaladaanu naanu Detttaalu ubayogikkareanu" (Something hideous). Their exaggerated delivery of our supposed accent is all thanks to Hindi actor Mehmood. My blood pressure rises and I yell "DO NOT DO A MEHMOOD HERE. WE DO NOT SPEAK LIKE THAT".
Though their voice is dubbed later with a Tamil voice-over, I ensure that they pronounce it the non-Mehmood way. Mehmood has done this major damage to us So…
Married for 31 years, 2 months and 17 days Six cups coffee a day, brewed everyday of marriage Three meals a day, At least two dishes cooked, each meal-time One snack for every Sunday Big basket of clothes ironed every Tuesday Average 18 items of clothing washed per day Three children 1 miscarriage One mother-in-law suffered 900 sq metre of floor space mopped, once a day One caesarean endured 3 chicken poxes, 2 measles, 2 fractures, 8 diarrhoeas, depression, conjunctivitis every summer, 1 tonsilitis and countless common colds and flues 1 job held for 29 years 6 hours slept every night Sex tolerated every 2nd week Religious rituals everyone of them, carried out Not one of them, believed in Lived 52 years and some Died exhausted
Overheard, “At least she had the satisfaction of having lived for her family”
It cannot be easy being you. A follow-up act to your more devilishly charming, flamboyant older brother. Before you were born, I was convinced that no child could ever take the special place your brother had come to occupy in my life. I used to argue with your father you would always be a second-born. A runner-up. A bridesmaid (or a best-man, as you turned out to be). That you could never be the prized, cherished, celebrated apple of my eye that my firstborn child was. But how easily you tore down my flimsy little conviction. The minute I saw you, I knew I was gone. What was worse, I succumbed willingly.
My fears that you would be overshadowed by your brother have proven unfounded. Over the past year, you have come into your own as a person. Your brother demands and challenges our love and attention. You, on the other hand, are much more accepting of our distractions with him. It is almost as if you understand that he is used to being the star of the show for much of his…
Okay, here's the idea. I ask you a question and you write a short story explaining it. Let me give you an example.
What happened when young Padmavathi was drawing water from the well to wash her clothes, early one Margazhi morning?
One morning when Padmavathi was drawing water from the well, she found Pettai Rowdy # 1 Govindarajulu inside the bucket! She dropped it at once and Govindarajulu went down and down and hit the bottom of the well with a Nung sound. His upper and lower teeth fused together and since then he has been fed intravenously. Pettai Rowdy # 2, Ragothaman Iyengar, who suggested this to Govindarajulu, now rules the roost.
After marrying Padmavathi, he is inviting all of you to a water drawing ceremony at the new well they dug in their house.
Jai Ragothaman Iyengar! Jai Padmavathi! Come one, Come all!
Here's a question for you.
What happened that made young Meenakshi change her mind about the parrot green saree she had originally chosen and go for a …