After moving to Kindle a few years ago, I have pretty much moved only to Kindle. The odd hard copy I still buy is a collectible, like all the Guru Dutt books I got in my hyper-obsession over the man last year.
Of course, Kindle (or any other book reader, or app) is convenient. No need to carry, or buy, so many books (except perhaps to show how erudite you are during your airport travels). You can increase or decrease the font size as needed. You can find out meanings of new words while reading, instead of waiting to check out on a dictionary later, when you would most likely have forgotten more than half the new words you came across. The e-book versions are also cheaper, even if marginally. And now, with Prime Reading, you can even read some books for free.
I first came across a Kindle with a co-commuter in a bus several years ago. I thought the black device was a tablet, but I also knew it wasn’t as chunky as a tablet. (This was about seven-eight years ago.) He told me about it, and then proceeded to explain the great extent to which Amazon had gone to simulate the reading experience in a device: the papery background, the fonts, the weight of the device, the colour of the device (black, to not compete with anything else)…
After getting my own device, settling into it, and getting used to it, like it happens, all this had become a blind spot. Until a few days back. When I paused in the course of my Sunday reading to notice the logo. When I sought to, actually, I didn’t notice it. And then, branding-loving me realized: if Amazon had designed the device to simulate the reading experience, they had designed the logo to not interfere with it, especially bearing in mind that the logo would come on the front of the device. The font is lower-case, sans serif, and not overly thick, and the colour is black (against the black of the device) – all to ensure that it doesn’t draw your attention from your reading. Until your curiousity is kindled.
If the 
GD and WR bring out the dual feelings of desire and anguish marvellously in the poster: just look at their faces and the expressions they bear. But, also look at the rest of the body language. WR faces away from GD and seems to convey a feeling of wanting to pull herself away from this situation (unlike in the Pyaasa poster, where although not fully facing him, she doesn’t appear like she wants to move away from him). However, her head leans toward his, to indicate a level of interest and yearning coming from the core. As for GD, he seems to be clutching her like he doesn’t want her to go. In all the tight embracing and thoughts of pulling away, they look painfully torn. This kind of love can only happen on paper (kaagaz). And on a brilliant poster.
Ever since Pyaasa became my number one Hindi film of all time (during my ongoing deep discovery of Guru Dutt), I have been fascinated by its poster, perhaps because I am fascinated by GD (the filmmaker and the person), the movie, and visual / poster design. What does Vijay’s (GD’s poet character in the movie) face leaning on Gulab’s (Waheeda Rehman’s streetwalker character) head say about the movie? How does it symbolize the movie, for isn’t that what movie posters are meant to do?
Determination pays.
So, I left the auto, entered the hotel (Raintree), went past security, entered the lobby, and checked with a hotel staff where the bloggers’ meet was. “Mauve Room, L1. You’ll need to take the lift.” I went up to the lift, pressed the button, and as I waited for it to arrive, decided to check my messages and mails. There was one mail from the coordinator of the event itself, inquiring where I was. Dang. Terribly late.
I spotted Suneil Chawla, one of the two co-founders of Social Beat, the social-media agency organizing the event, went up to him, informed him I was late as – well, time to go quiet again – I had had a stomach upset, but was fine now. He told me that was ok, they had factored in some late-coming, and told me to take a seat.
On1y (note the spelling) comes from the Bangalore-based Jayanti Group, which is in the agri-businesses of spice, tea, and coffee. Started by Jayantilal Shah (and so the name) in 1940, it is now in the hands of the latest generation. Its entry into the herbs and seasonings’ industry is not just with an intention to expand its offerings, but also as the logical next step to one of its present lines of work: it has been doing private labeling for other brands of herbs and seasonings, which retail for a premium, so it thought why not brand our product ourselves and make it available at a more accessible price.
What On1y also gets from its parent is the logo. The Jayanti logo has a green leaf within, so does On1y’s. This is, apart from reflecting lineage, also to indicate things like fresh, natural, green. Vishal corroborated this in a casual chat later: the chairman was very clear that the On1y logo have a leaf element somewhere. I am equally clear too: the logo scores. It’s neat, clear, communicative. I also inquired with Vishal next why they decided to call it so. He responded, “We want to be the only brand of choice/consideration around people’s tables/kitchens.” And the name scores too.
I tried my hand at the grinder for salad seasoning. It takes some getting used to, and I’m not sure I got it right the first time. However, there was ample salad around. So, when I tried it the next time, it was more wieldy, and actually fun to use. Ladies, you may want to be careful asking him to help out in the kitchen now.
My attention then went to the design. I had noticed lovely motifs and icons on the slide for each product during the presentation. But it was only during the tasting when we were up close with the products that I noticed better. There are cute images of the place of origin of each sprinkler product. For instance, basil has illustrations of Egyptian kings like found around the pyramids as it’s farmed in Egypt and oregano has a whirling dervish as it’s procured from Turkey, which I also learned is the spice capital of the world.
At the tasting, there were four salads and a soup. The soup seemed a cream of broccoli or spinach (I later found out it was the first): non-vegan, so out for me. One salad was non-veg (chicken, I believe), but the other three salads were all vegan. A spicy corn, a spicy potato, and a potato-and-something mix (don’t remember the something now). I ground and drizzled the salad seasoning onto the three vegan salad portions on my plate. I took a bite of the spicy corn, and it hit all the right buttons in my palate. It tingled my taste-buds, made me salivate, and made it difficult to have a conversation with all those juices swirling in my mouth. But it was a client-sponsored gathering, so decided to be discreet and eat slow. I also think I figured out why they had actually called themselves so: On1y the best would do. And of course, the ‘1’ instead of ‘l’ tops it.
The tasting went on for some more time. Folk moved around from table to table, group to group, person to person, socializing, chatting, networking. In between, Social Beat had opened up Twitter on the laptop/projector, where the bloggers/influencers were already taking pix and posting/tweeting. The agency/client had decided to keep it chilled out: we didn’t necessarily have to tweet/post right then, we could go back and do so. Perfect, we could concentrate on the food.
The government recently announced a logo-design contest for Namami Gange, the clarion call for the National Mission for Clean Ganga, an initiative that works towards cleaning and conserving the Ganga. Here’s my entry for it (they allowed only one entry), along with the write-up for the thought behind the logo (they asked for this). The contest ended yesterday.
The thought is reflected in the slogan as well: ‘Aao Banaaye Nadi Humaari, Ek Nadi Khushiyaan Bhari.’ (Transcreation, not transliteration: ‘Come, let’s make our river / A river of joy forever.’) A call for action, yet poetic.
In my various social media spaces (work and non-work), I have posted about how I love The Hindu Lit for Life fest logo, both the general one and this year’s adaptation.
In this year’s adapted logo, I love the splash of blue (ink) – to me, it indicated movement, dynamism, fluidity.
One, the splash of blue – nice and big and bold – seems like a strong, forceful counter to the splash of red (read: blood) we have seen in the past year or so in the art, literary and creative spaces, both in India and neighbouring countries. Writers and other creative individuals returning their awards to protest the rising intolerance to free expression. Authors such as Perumal Murugan announcing their ‘literary death’ to protest against the protests against his Tamil book ‘Mathurobagan’ (‘One Part Woman’ in the English translation). Ink attacks (Sudheendra Kulkarni had ink/black oil smeared on his face for organizing an event to launch former Pakistani minister, Khurshid Mahmud Kasuri’s book, ‘Neither a Hawk nor a Dove: An Insider’s Account of Pakistan’s Foreign Policy’). Bloggers being killed in Bangladesh. Creative folk’s voices being muzzled in various ways across the country, the most ludicrous perhaps being the installation of a plastic cow balloon (to highlight the danger to cows on eating plastic thrown around by people) being pulled down after protests by people belonging to the right-wing ruling party and then being worshipped because as per their culture and tradition, the cow is a sacred animal and they won’t allow it to be killed, or it seems, humiliated. (Turning blind eyes to the immense cruelty milch cows have to go through in the name of dairy production.) The bold indigo splash seems to be say, the intelligent voice will splash you back, the creative blood will keep flowing.
Two, the blue dab, especially as the fest is Chennai-based, seems a tribute to the aqueous horrors the city and its citizens went through in mid-November and early December due to unprecedented and record-breaking rains and floods. This time, the logo seems to say, the city will keep flowing. That’s also why, after much debate, and where other cultural events in the city were either muted or cancelled, the festival organizers have decided to go ahead with the fest, but with some adjustments: no pre-events and inclusion of several talks on the crises that cities face due to urbanization.
Irfanvertising, as most people who follow this blog and especially this series would know, is where I discuss and comment on most things advertising: from branding to design, with special love for logos. Well, just this once, I’ll be talking about my own.
Insight and simplicity. Together they help you be bang-on. So, hey, a dart-board. But since it’s been used in communication since almost the hieroglyphics, I decided to graphicize it, giving it edges rather than keeping it round. Also kept only two circles (for simplicity) and from the same brand colours (blue-white-grey).
But again, as I didn’t want to use it full-on at the start, have tucked it away into a top corner, as only a visual element for now. If later, I want to use it as a full-blown icon, I’ll move it from its present position to something more centre-stage. When for instance, I make the next 100 cards.
