I used to suffer from a severe lack of self-confidence and self-esteem. I was a wreck, not knowing how to approach women or engage them in fruitful conversation, how to win them over, or how to even treasure them once ‘pataoed’. I was seriously an ‘ullu banaoing’ kind of guy, coz I had no idea about anything.
And then one day it all changed – it was a ‘Moses parting the Dead Sea’ moment when I bought a TV set and subscribed to Tata Sky. Lo and behold I discovered the joy of Indian television advertising.
Illustration/ amit bandre
I had found the magic formula — the secret to charming the ladies was the ‘D’ word — Deodorant. Dear reader, please forget all you’ve learnt at any communication skills course or shaadi.com type service. You wanna get the ‘fairer sex’ to swoon, fellow bro and dude type people, go to your nearest store and buy a can of deo.
(The magic mantra used be motorcycles but no more.)
I decided to try the experiment, as ads should always be believed. After all when Shah Rukh proclaims Fair & Handsome will get you married and get you a job, you believe him, na?
So last Monday morning, I sprayed on some Axe deo. So great was the impact, I couldn’t make it to my door. Bombshells who looked like IPL cheerleaders, suddenly appeared from every room, licking their lips, lusting for Casanova daCunha.
On Tuesday, I tried Set-Wet, another brand of deo, and oh man, in a second I went from ‘moderately pleasant’ to very, very, very, very, very sexy. Women were dropping shopping bags as I jogged past. (Okay, walked past).
Wednesday morning, I applied Envy 1000 and stepped into an elevator, like Irrfan Khan. On the fifth floor a woman crashed through the top of the lift, sneezed at me and smiled.
“Bless you,” I said.
“No, bless you”, she wheezed.
Man, by the weekend, I had women coming out of my ears, I was the envy of all and sundry. I thought, let me see if this is real, will these women listen to my every command.
I put on some more Axe and asked one of my harem, “I have a meeting, I need to eat, make me some breakfast. Go”
“Nice,” I thought as she disappeared into the kitchen, only to appear a second later with a Havells mixer which she thumped down on the table. Then she dropped some condiments in my hand and said, “Spices”, pointed to herself and whispered, “Spouse”.
Dear advertiser, what’s the big plan?
First you tell me, I can walk into any bar, pull a woman’s hair and she will follow me on her motorcycle — so long as I’m wearing Denver spray.
Now you’re saying, “Respect women”.
This is not right, you know. You set me up, then drop me like a hot zoo-zoo.
I’m exchanging my Tata Sky dish for a Kent water purifier.
At least with Hemaji I will get ‘shudh paani’, not ‘pseudo sexiness’.
Rahul da Cunha is an adman, theatre director/playwright, photographer and traveller. Reach him at rahuldacunha62 @gmail.com
The views expressed in this column are the individual’s and don’t represent those of the paper.