in-between-sound-and-silence

Anyone who cares for cooking and writing will know that both these art forms have a lot in common. The most important thing to know – if one wants to cook or write well – is not the plot, the narrative sequencing, the character details, etc. but when to stop, to say it aloud, that should do ; however alluring is the temptation to add an extra word or spice just for tad bit of an impact. A misplaced word or an ingredient – even the slightest one – can disrupt the ‘fundamental accuracy’ of the story or the dish.

Cooking comes far more naturally to me than writing though I would like to do both with the same flair. The ease with which I explore new dishes, ingredients as compared to narrative styles, characters, plots, etc. is because somewhere food – that specific dish – is more temporal whereas writing has a sense of permanence to it. Or so I used to think. In the last two weeks I have followed something which I have not in the last many, many years – a routine. There is a time and place for everything – reading, running, cooking, writing. Whilst following the routine pedantically, I realized the shallowness of my approach towards cooking. Fixing dinner for myself on a regular basis I realized that it was only my delusion to think that I was a better cook than a writer or at least less inhibited. My cooking – interesting, nevertheless – was very limiting. I found myself to be as apprehensive a cook as a writer – if I qualify as that. The scope I set out for my dinners was very narrow. The spices, arrangement of ingredient, consistency was repetitive to death. So, whilst every night I was having something different – in terms of ingredients – it all tasted the same for the spices, arrangement, and the consistency were just the same. To my horror, the realization dawned upon my frail self that my writing would also be suffering from similar predicament. Since then I decided to take matters in own hands to sort out my cooking and writing. I may never turn out to a cook or an author people turn to for recipes or stories but, for myself, I will know that I tried my best even if it was not good enough.

Every once so often I have a crisis. I am weaning out of a crisis as such at the moment. The crisis have no bearings or grounding in anything ‘real’: getting fired, running out of next month’s rent, being dumped, falling in love miserably or waking up with a limb missing. During these times, or when speaking of these times, fragile friends, promising acquaintances or fake lovers ask, ‘what happened? What went wrong? What precipitated it? You were just fine until the night before’, I have no answers. My logic and rationality is tested. Until now – lacking a ‘real, rational’ reason for my crisis – I had convinced myself it is a matter of hormones, lunar cycles or genetically transmitted madness. After one of these numbing crises, I had decided, sworn myself into a solemn vow, that I shall not seek the aid of pills, pink plastic blades or noose around my neck when lacking in emotions, rationality and logic. It is too messy to wake up in your own filth.

I have kept that promise to myself.

Anyone - with half an ounce of grey cells and a sense of humour - who has seen the ‘Dark Temptation: Irresistible as Chocolate’ Axe advert will call it anything but ‘indecent, repulsive, and obscene’. This is how MIB has categorized it and urges the advertisers “to refrain from airing the said advertisement”.  

The narrative sequence of the advert, bordering between surrealistic and science fiction, is not too complicated. A man, getting dressed, spray himself, generously, with the Axe deodrant, Dark Temptation, and on his way out he transforms into a ‘Chocolate boy’. And, well, women want to, hmm…, eat him up because he’s made of chocolate. While walking the road, he sweetly offers a bit of his ‘chocolate’ nose to women eating ice-cream as flavouring (was this the repulsive bit?). Visiting another sick woman-friend, he wiggles his ‘chocolate’ hand to amuse her. It does bring out a darn’ good smile on her face. My favourite bit of the advert is when traveling in a bus, a woman, nonchalantly bites into his bottom for a piece of his, well, ‘chocolate’ bottom. Sweet! (On second thoughts, was this the vulgar and indecent bit?)

I am not too keen on chocolate. I do not think I would flutter, if man smelling of chocolate is passing by. I like sweat and grime. I do. I watched the advert, over and over again, to figure what the ‘indecent, repulsive, and vulgar’ bits. On the third viewing, the advert was outright hilarious and anything but sexual.

The ‘chocolate’ man seems like as if he is high on LSD. The smirk is permanent and suggests some serious damage to important parts of the brain. The smile, the eyes, the walk, the look do not drive the women; they just want the chocolate. The man seems to incidental to the whole situation. 

I would admit, it is a slightly over-the-top advert but it catches one’s attention and, I reckon, does what it is supposed to do, convince men that if they use this deodorant strange women would want to bite into their bottoms. Is that the message? It did not work on me. I do not fancy either chocolate or ‘chocolate’ men. I will not want my man to smell of chocolate. It’s like having a deodorant which smells like Pepperoni Pizza. I know, I know … for the chocolate lovers, this is a deeming comparison but I do not know any better. What chocolate does to you, Pepperoni does for me. 

Ah, well …. 

And, is biting into the bottom really that ‘vulgar or obscene’? I think not. 

There could be very serious, sexual implications of biting into bottoms but that is not what this advert projects. 

The kind of bottom-biting this advert professes is that of the Sunday-afternoon-lazing-around nursing-hangover-semi-naked-but-not-sexed-out-loving-in-between-zodiac-reading-munching-into-the-lover’s-bottom. 

It is actually kinda’ quite cute. Maybe I will take to chocolates, finally.