No looking like Indians please, we’re Indian

But, lately I am no longer sure that we have not gone a little over the top in this scramble for looking international, for being like them. The first sign of something weird happening is the apparent use of pattern moulds to `mass produce’ a regular supply of Miss India, Asia Pacific, World and Universe titles. These little ladies are all starting to look the same, while of course all sounding the same. In the past, and sometimes in the present too, they have postured themselves as a little Mother T or Lady Bountiful. Now somewhat more honestly (always after they won what they could) they are announcing their intention to join the glamour world of acting, modelling and so forth. In a `nightmare’ scenario one can imagine walking into a dimly lit room, with spotlights on the smiling faces of these `processed’ beauties, and confronting a hideous reality of six, seven or more identically broad grinning lips, painted a stunning red, revealing identically `manicured’ sets of gleaming teeth. If by chance you havecome across recent pics of winners, runner-ups, former beauty queens et al, you will know what I mean.

The ad world has done one better with an increase in the usage of phoren models to provide that aspiration desirability. In the majority of cases, they feature in ads for readymade garment brands, striving desperately to be perceived as phoren maal. I recall that in the late seventies and early eighties, savvy advertisers had discovered that foreign models, particularly blondes and high profile entertainment celebrities, had a special attraction value in the Japanese marketplace. They were featured not only in popular consumer product ads, such as for Coca-Cola, but also in very successful campaigns for major department stores. Maybe, Indian advertisers, who have switched to featuring phoren models, have unearthed the cold reality that, despite our claims of nationhood, we are in fact just about where Japan was 30 years ago. Insecure in ourselves, more than ready to ape the West to prove we are worthy of belonging to an international fraternity. What a pity.