The Real Taste

Bournvita Quiz Contest was my favourite Sunday show in mid-nineties. I loved the commercial breaks even more - simply because Cadbury's blocked most of the slots to advertise their entire range of goodies. From Bournvita to Dairy Milk to Five Star to Perk to Picnic (anybody remember this fruit and nut bar?). Cadbury's Dairy Milk commercials (along with Fevicol) might be the most delightful thing ever to happen to Indian television.

All but one of those wonderful Dairy Milk ads can be found in YouTube. Having said that, I will be very happy if someone can discover that commercial on the web. This post is about that missing 'One'. A commercial that was aired for only a couple of months.

It was way smarter than any of the Dairy Milk commercials ever made. This Ad showed various activities going on inside an Elevator, as seen through a CCTV placed close to the ceiling. The activities involved protagonists indulging themselves with - obviously - Dairy Milk bars and consequences. There were no dialogues or dances or omnipresent superstars - just common people doing common stuff as if no one's watching them. I don't remember the commercial frame-by-frame, and would like readers to fill in the blanks wherever they can :)

The commercial began like this: A guy is carrying cartons of Dairy Milk out of a lift. Another person enters the Lift and bumps into the cartons kept on the floor. Some Chocolate bars fall out in impact. It is implied that the carton carrier overlooks the misplaced chocolates. The real story begins here.

A multitude of characters move in and out of the lift. In between, they find the chocolate bars scattered on the floor and gets busy. I can recall a bunch of kids, a biker dude with a helmet in his arm, and also a footballer. The footballer picks up one of the bars, starts eating it, and suddenly discovers the CCTV watching him. So, he hides the half-eaten chocolate behind his back, with a very embarrassed expression.

Then, there was a lovey-dovey couple having fun with the Dairy Milks. The guy, unwraps one Dairy Milk, holds half of it in his mouth and welcomes his girl to bite off the remaining half . Destiny doesn't like Dairy Milk, so the door slides apart at this Kodak moment, and a tough-looking grandma steps in. The couple splits up instantly, in literal sense. I do not remember if the grandma does something with the Chocolate bar sticking out of the boy's mouth. Does she break a piece and tastes it herself?

Towards the end of the Ad, the lift gets very crowded. The crowd includes office goers, college students, a senior guy and his cute daughter. Everyone is facing the door except one young guy. Not having enough space to turn around, he stands with his back to the door. He holds one just-opened bar of Dairy Milk in his hand. The senior man stands opposite to him, whose existence he is completely unaware of, been mesmerized by his beautiful daughter standing in his right. The guy kept ogling at the girl, so lost- that he forgot his Chocolate.

All the while, the Dad observes the scenario with a stony-but-helpless expression. The Lift reaches the floor where Dad-Daughter duo would alight. The daughter squeezes out of the lift, the guy's thirsty eyes following her, leaving his chocolate bar totally unguarded. The Dad utilizes this golden opportunity to take a sweet revenge. On his way out, while passing by the guy - he bites off a huge chunk of the Dairy Milk. On re-focusing , the youngster was stunned by the sudden shrinking of his bar, as everybody in the lift bursts out in laughter.

What was so exciting about this Commercial that made me write a 8+ para post?

1) Nothing exciting, actually. It didn't bank upon unreal-ish event like a middle-aged guy completing graduation (Pappu Pass Ho Gaya ad) or a donkey winning a beauty contest (Miss Palampur ad). Rather, this ad celebrated the most trifle incidents of life as natural sources of pure pleasure. And, Pure Pleasure = Cadbury's Dairy Milk (few would differ).

2) This ad also represented the 'pre-Reality Show' era of Indian Television. An era unscarred by perversion of secret photography and it's growing demand among the voyeuristic Indian audience. A decade ago, we loved the concept of secret camera, because it allowed us to see how people enjoy eating a milk chocolate. Now, we love it even more. Because it allows us to see much more - how politicians sell the country, how cricketers throw the game and how teenagers have sex.

I would really appreciate if anyone can dig up the discussed commercial and send me the link. Till then, grab a Dairy Milk bar, have it your way and don't give a damn if someone photographs you doing so. Firstly because Dairy Milk deserves more attention than a jerk. Secondly, Innocence doesn't sell :)

The Stopover - Part 2 : Pintu's Grandma

This is a follow-up to my post called "The Stopover - Part 1". In Stopover series of posts, I want to talk about experiences I had while passing through/stopping by at Chennai airport.

It was 5:00 AM. The old megacity of Calcutta was enjoying her last hour of slumber, before waking up - to another day of infinite chaos and cacophony. A battered yellow ambassador Taxi dropped me off at NSC Bose airport. The melancholy of leaving home makes me ignore minor disturbances happening all around. Take for example, an old female voice talking about her "Tholey" (Bangla for jute-bag) to an airhostess.

Couple of hours later, the plane landed in Kamaraj airport. While moving out of the plane, I noticed a commotion near the front exit. Two of the airhostesses were trying their best to pacify an agitated old woman. She was the stereotypical Bengali grandma. A 70 year old woman of hunched body, wrinkled skin and silky white hairs bundled into an untidy coiffeur. Her crumpled, somewhat dirty white saree (thaan) identified her as a widow. Her eyes right now were very angry, the effect of which was further maginified by the cataract specs.

Indians are programmed to expect Grandma's in certain roles and backdrops. For example: Creating vegeterian magic in kitchen, annually visiting holy places like Banaras and Haridwar, first babysitting and then blackmailing grandchildren to get married, feigning her imminent death (and living long enough to see the great-grandchildren reach marriageable age), adopting the most irritating cats ever and so on. Naturally, spotting a fiesty grandma in a Boeing 707, was worth a double take.

"Explain how my tholey upturned!"

What amused the onlookers even more were the airhostesses standing in a posture akin to guilty schoolgirls forgetting their homework. Needless to say, grandma deserved an Oscar for outperforming in the role of an enraged, non-lenient teacher not buying any excuse. Grandma was literally scolding them on top of her voice, while the poor pretty ladies stood silent, looking at each other - helpless and embarassed. They desperately looked around for someone who could decipher the pure Bangla and spare them Grandma's wrath. Luckily for them, one Bengali gentleman (I wrongly assumed him to be Grandma's companion) intervened and took control.

Few moments later, I saw Grandma again inside airport - walking upto the nearest stack of trolleys. The lady had only two pieces of baggage. One sidebag and her infamous 'tholey'. The stubborn trolley refused to yield to strength of grandma's one thin wrist. Realizing she was alone, I stepped forward and pulled out a trolley for her.

Grandma said: "There you are! I was wondering where the brats are. Come, bring the trolley to this side" and started walking towards conveyor belt. Me? Brat? Dumbstruck by Grandma's modesty, I followed her with the trolley.

While waiting for her baggages, Grandma revealed that she flies to Chennai regularly to visit her daughter and grandson . And as luck would have it, airhostesses consistently mess with her 'tholeys'. She has had enough and decided to bring a sidebag next time - which has been bought from Delhi the year India won the world-cup. "Some more grandmas like you, Samsonite will file for bankruptcy" I thought.

"There! There! That green one! Move - you grumpy fellow!" Grandma cried out. The middle aged passenger standing infront of me was shell-shocked and made space for me. I gave an apologetic smile to grumpy fellow and hauled up a green-colored bag which might have been used by Ibn-e-Batuta to carry his hooka.
"There! That brown one too!"
Grumpy fellow jumped aside again and a relatively newer looking bag (possible owner: Alexander Supertramp) was recovered.
"Come now." Grandma walked towards Exit Gate.
"Grandma, is there anybody to receive you? Do you have a phone ?"
"No, no, my grandson will be there." Grandma assured me.

We arrived at the Exit. The security people observed grandma keenly, as she stood at the gate, looking around for her grandson. I figured he has not turned up yet. I was going to ask Grandma if she has got his phone number. All of a sudden, Grandma started shouting -
"Pintu! Hey Pintu! Where the hell are you monkeyface? I told you to arrive at 8:30 sharp, you ass! Pintu! Come right now, Idiot!"

If you can imagine Bianca Castafiore uttering Captain Haddock's curses in an opera, you get the exact impact produced by Grandma's monologue. The security staff were stunned, so were the cabbies jostled outside. I tried very hard to maintain a staright face.
"Pintu! Monkey, where are you?!"
"Grandma! Grandma! Here I am!"
Everyone at the Exit turned at the direction where this extremely happy voice came from. A fat guy with thick moustache in his late 20s was running towards the Exit, with a grin as genuine as a child's. He - I correctly assumed - was Pintu. I was relieved at the arrival of the rescuer. Pintu touched grandma's feet, took the trolley from me, thanked me and escorted the heroine of this post outside the airport.


I stood for a while looking at Grandma's departing figure. This was one lady who did not care a dime about her lack of education or refined sensibilities. She didn't think twice before charging the airhostess even without knowing the language they spoke. She proudly carried her old, torn bags around. She was brave enough to travel thousands of miles all alone. She accepted assistance from complete strangers and didn't thank them because she deserved the help. Simply put, she refused to be bogged down by the template of a Grandma.

This Grandma is definitely one of the most graceful women I ever met.