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Ethos of Indian ads

Last Updated : 06 August 2016, 18:39 IST
Last Updated : 06 August 2016, 18:39 IST

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Nawabs, Nudes,
noodles
Ambi Parameswaran
Pan Macmillan
2016, pp 320, Rs 419

Reading Ambi Parameswaran’s Nawabs, Nudes, Noodles: India through 50 Years of Advertising is like a journey down memory lane, revisiting some of the oldest junctures in the phenomena of time past that comprise you.

The titles of the chapters invoke the catchy lines that accompanied the programmes, music and news on Doordarshan, indiscernible in the melting pot of reminiscences and voices from the times when television equalled Doordarshan.

The book is also a lesson in how your past catches up with you. A lot of advertising of those bad ol’ days was nothing but a set of repressed memories, because it was so embarrassing — a condition that continues till date. For example: why do dentists in products related to oral hygiene carry stethoscope? Do they check the teeth with that instrument? Or an ad that opens the morning newspaper with toothpaste foam spat out by two individuals — one of whom has bleeding gums as seen in the red tinge. As a copywriting guru Luke Sullivan put it once, “I can spit to get your attention, but is that a dignified way of doing it?” But I digress.

Parameswaran delves into several old advertisements and talks about how immensely successful they were in generating demand for their brands, and over a period of time, changed people’s attitudes and behaviour (like switching from home remedies to OTC medicines).

The narrative in the book is thematically chronological in several places. The book talks about how advertising has changed in the ways it represents certain groups —  men, children, women, youth, couples, senior citizens, and women.

Parameswaran’s narrative would give you a feeling that it all began with stereotypes and is now moving in liberating directions: for instance, earlier, fairness creams showed concerns of women trying to look fairer for getting married, but now,  they portray that women aspire to look better for getting good jobs. That men were sold everything packaged with brawn,  but they are now increasingly seen as caring, sensitive beings who understand women, or at least try to.

The product categories — fabric, cooking oil and other items in FMCG, automobiles, home décor, rural consumption and telecom services — have their own stories of evolution. Advertising has improved our art and décor IQ, as Parameswaran puts it. The consumers are not categorised in terms of socioeconomic classes anymore. They will now be defined on the basis of the education and the occupation of the chief wage earner, and the number of durables owned by the family.

The section of the book called Services emphasises how advertising scenarios have been located around occasions in the lives of the majority: weddings and celebrations, education opportunities, and financial products which are tied with lifestage marketing, travelling, jobs and careers, healthcare and sports. Advertising in these domains has helped brands penetrate into our lives, especially during the festivities, which drive the consumption to a unique peak. New occasions like Valentine’s Day and Father’s Day are spaces that unfold new pitches and strategies of sale.

The fourth and the last section of the book, Ad Narratives, is the most interesting bit. There is a survey of the genres of music found in the range of our advertising. There is a bit on how featuring celebrities, now ubiquitous in ads, is an evolved decision. Then there are comments on how Indian ads reflect the Hinglish mode of speech and expression. There is a chapter on how what was once perceived as risqué is now becoming acceptable as intelligent or eligible ways of selling stuff.

There are some interesting insights in the book. We have been a nation of jingles and television commercials. There are very few mentions of print ads.

And then there is trivia: a brand that was born because it had surplus tie material. That Arun Kolatkar and Kiran Nagarkar were copywriters. That a certain politician was a model for a towel brand. That even when the majority of people buy fabric for trousers, the brands are projected as ‘suitings’ because the masses associate suit material with better quality.

It must be clarified that the book has got no academic or epistemological context to it. Not that it hurts the book very seriously. However, considering that it follows the format of notes and index at the end, there is no scholarly side to it. The subject of advertising is not approached with a focus on the sociology of advertising or on the craft of it. Parameswaran should be read as a set of reflections and musings on how we produce and, more specifically, consume advertising in India. It’s a breezy weekend read.

Nawabs, Nudes, Noodles would leave you with the feeling that we have a long way from being a nation of prudes to that of a seemingly embracing community of consumers. The author’s remarks on what he sees in future — better advertising, better representational choices, better and greater consumption — indicate a preoccupation with more enhanced opportunities of selling. However, whether we would continue to be sold toilet cleaner with the visuals of monstrous germs attacking the commode is a more important question.

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Published 06 August 2016, 16:00 IST

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