Soliloquy 1

The *bling bling* of breath takingly shot advertisements, Greek god like models ,glossy pages and imposing hoardings have to a large extent been successful in drugging the non consumer part of me .

It ,however, wakes up sometimes and a rant is born .

So Barbie is selling clothes now, another brand added to the gamut of nauseatingly expensive and snooty labels.

When I see my puny three and a half feet tall cousins refusing to wear non branded jeans, it really makes me think back about roughly when it was that this brand obsession came and took over even these unsuspecting kids and worse still their parents.

The largest brand I remember wearing as a child is action shoes ,wanting to know if my experience was only mine I spoke to a couple of other friends who come from similar backgrounds and they too seemed to agree with me about our complete disregard for brands as children .

It infact took me a long time to realize the difference between the idea of expensive and non expensive .my mother tells me that as a four year old I asked her if we were rich enough to afford two eggs . Nowadays kids know, that Levis is a cool jean to have because it costs a lot more money that your regular denim pants. This precocious awareness of class and status and a disgusting sense of superiority that money breeds in the minds of these children is something that I don’t remember being a part of my childhood.

Koyel and I were recently talking about what it means to have a good childhood ,the conversation happened after a visit to BC Roy library ,an old building, walls full of paintings ,exciting books ,wooden chairs and an annual subscription fees of fifty rupees it stands in stark contrast to fashions shows(with their numerous other problems) for kids organized by elite playschools …

Crass display of wealth always manages to put me off and warped schooling and parenting along with all pervasive consumerism has, I feel, everything to do with it

Here is a poem by Gerald Kelly

Ad Nauseum

They don’t shout at you these days

In crowded squares

They don’t hang their wares from aprons

And fight through the crush ton accost you

There is n cackle of hens

No bleating of goats

No clink clink clink

Of money counted.

These days they rent the sides of buildings

And scream at you from posters

The size of skies they make neon signs

To render the moonlight anaemic

And leave their wares

To swim about

The pools of floodlit showrooms

They hold their tongues

Say nothing:

Yet fill your head

Your life

Your city

With the fevered volume of hawking

Modern day money changers

Hustlers

Dealers

Abusers of silence

In god’s green temple:

But who should we look to

In this after messiah age

To make a whip

And turn the tables on them ?