The distance between the new airport in Hyderabad and the city has created problems and opportunities. The old airport was plumb in the middle of the city and it was like getting off a bus and joining the mainstream. This is a good 20 km’s away. The taxis are priced at the normal rate, but the buses, air-conditioned and comfortable, called Aeroexpress, are convenient and cheap – about 40% of the taxi fare.
They have thought out the little additions as well. One way to the city is Rs.175/- and a round trip is Rs. 275/- just Rs.100 more. And the ticket is valid for 10 days. It is a good way to ensure that this becomes a habit. The drop-off points are distinctive, differentiated from the regular bus stops by oval structures. Bare but functional.
The attendants at the stop also know when the next bus is going to arrive and the buses are punctual – while I was there, I saw at least 5 other people come and book tickets for trips 3-4 hours away. People have no problem with using public transport. It just needs someone to think things through and then run it well.
Landing on a cold and foggy morning at Hyderabad airport, I was astonished to see some sprightly sparrows hopping and chirping about. They haven’t taken well to the urban spread. In apartment blocks, pigeons nest and liberally spray dung over parked cars, but sparrows are a rare sight. They don’t have the natural aggression of crows and the smarts of the pigeons and they are probably partial to more open spaces.
So much of what was taken for granted in childhood is gone. I remember waking up to the chirping of sparrows in our house in Bangalore. They would be impervious to their hosts in the house, probably a bit like Englishmen. They deigned to visit, but could not be expected to stay or respond to human advances. In time one got used to them and took the fact that they came close, investigated and then flew away as a natural routine. They were a part of our life, without ever being in a cage or being fed.
So what struck me about this modern glass and stainless edifice – the airport, was not so much the architecture as the feeling that the design was friendly not just to the flying machines made of metal but the real feathered ones as well.
About 3 years ago, Chennai’s billboards disappeared. A government ban came into effect and erased every single vinyl from public view. Old, dilapidated and unfamiliar buildings appeared magically. Like dirt under the carpet, Chennai’s skyline was glamourous when it was unseen. Today, the only outdoor medium that survives in Chennai are the bus stops. Splashed with myriad colours, they provide a respite from the drab and mundane. The big brands try to sneak past the ban by painting outdoor surfaces like walls in public view, but ever so often, the government retaliates and strips the wall bare. Political posters and billboards, however, root themselves along pavements along with flags, and posters.
The malls are the direct beneficiaries of the ban. The space for events at malls is booked throughout the year, at inflated rates, since brands have very few opportunities for reminders in outdoor media. Walk through any mall on a weekend and food, car and personal care brands vie for attention. Much like the public grounds where 4-5 cricket matches go on at the same time and fielders watch out, not only for the ball from the game they are playing in but from others that could knock them down from behind.
Now, the city looks a lot better. The ban worked for the best, as it had grown to unmanageable proportions. On certain roads, it felt like driving through walls of vinyl, 70-80 feet tall. The support was at best, sketchy and these monstrosities came down regularly in a thunderstorm or merely with a forceful gust. And those old, dilapidated buildings? Oh, the facades have the new fangled plastic tiles now. Making them look like new age buildings. But don’t be fooled. Look at the sides and the ‘original’ manifests, peeling walls and all.
Ever since getting an Android phone, I have started downloading a lot more applications, using it to check mail and updating to-do lists. It never happened with my earlier phones. There is a comfort that touch screens provide. Zooming in and out of web pages means that you can increase type sizes to legible levels and scroll. However, I would never be comfortable reading a book on the screen space of the phone. I also notice that scrolling horizontally across phones is easy but on the PC with a mouse, vertical is the only comfortable way.
That makes it a lot more difficult for designers who have to ensure consistency in design across media. It was easier when media was classified into clearly divided containers – press, TV, radio and so on. To assemble text, pictures, video, and audio on the same page poses considerable challenges. Television screens, especially the current flat ones have a movie aspect ratio. It looks bad when a web page is squeezed vertically. Pictures scrunch up, lines and columns look wayward.
However, there are people doing notable work in resolving the issues that come up. I found The Mag+ concept from a design firm called Berg revealing. The insight of using a horizontal river of content as opposed to a stack in the case of a book underlines the fundamental difference between designing for the virtual space and the real one. Another post by Craig Mod on how ebooks and tablets will define the reading experience provides simple clarity.
This is what designers should be reading rather than putting the same elements together as they have been for years.
Driving past an upmarket marriage clothes store for men – Manyavar, I did a double take. I’ve seen mannequins in all kinds of shapes and poses, but this one had a slight paunch! It is obviously deliberate. The brand managers have seen that their customers are not sculpted gods and are out to make them comfortable. I can imagine prospectives grooms squirming when they don the same sherwani in the trial room and don’t end up looking as smart as the clotheshorse. It may be a dealbreaker.
This leads to an interesting question. Should the image in the store be about what people are or what they want to be? The mannequins in Reebok and Adidas stores don’t have an ounce of fat. It’s six packs all the way because the brands are built on fitness aspirations. Show people the body they want to be in and sell more sneakers.
However, when it comes to marriages, Manyavar has tracked its customers and seen that they are generous around the middle. Then the question is whether to project an aspiration or accept that their major customers are not going to make the extra affort to cut down on the fat. Then match the image to the expectations. I haven’t seen fat mannequins yet, but I suspect they are around the corner, given the way the next generation of Indians is shaping up.
An article in the New York Times explains how superstars tend to dominate the markets they cater to. Starting with sports legends like Pele, who earned $150,000 when he was at his peak, there now athletes, actors, TV anchors and bankers who earn the lion’s share of the cake. While this works wonderfully for the persons getting it, it tends to squeeze all those down the line. Take the cost of a Tamil film – one in which a superstar or any top draw actor is involved. The economics of that film take on risk proportions far greater than those involving lesser actors. Look at the production costs as well. The greatest slice in that budget is the superstar’s pay, not any of the other aspects involved.
Take the IPL auction where the top 10 players get amounts far greater than any of the other. The other 80 players get a better deal but nothing close to what the ones on top command. Is the difference in ability substantial? Is original talent not valuable? That capitalism rewards inequalities is common knowledge. What is lesser known is the way it skews markets towards those who dominate it. So is communism any better? I hardly think so. One just has to look at China where communism fuses with capitalism. And those who dominate the system are those at the top. So there’s no point in blaming the political system
Anyone who controls a resource will set up the rules to benefit themselves. Whether it is political parties, game administrators or bankers. They hold the lifelines and the paths to power. Until someone creates a new resource. Or a new market. Then the new status quo will kick in and stay as long as it benefits the leader.
I saw Tron because I remember how it had exploded on the computer graphics scene in the 80s. The motorcycles streaking along beams of light, hurtling past sharp corners and the world that was far removed from the real one was eye candy. I wish it had stayed that way.
Tron Legacy picks a futile premise. The disinterested, prankster son going back to the world to rescue his long-lost Dad? Trapped in the whorls and computations of a chip? Give me a break. Everything is larger than life and without any real purpose. There is a long-winded sequence, a feast on a pig where the characters drink blue gel and mouth inane dialogue. How did all that food get cooked within this cyber world – or is it that people need to eat, even in that cyber state? No answers. The movie slips through the cracks between 2D and 3D and gets lost in a wire mesh of confusion over the motivations of its characters. Christoper Nolan this guy is not, by any stretch of the imagination.
While Inception flitted effortlessly between its dream and walking states without losing its audience, this one goes where hundreds of others have gone. There is a brilliant sequence in the first half where the cyber stadium is lit with fighters. There may be a reason why this world degenerated into such depravity, but you don’t want to find out. Some legacies, like the hardcovers on the shelves of Tron are best left to collect dust and nostalgia
Buildings in India are just as chaotic as our streets. Might is right. There is no place for order and logic. One business will occupy the road facing traffic and put up the gaudiest sign imaginable. Every signboard has to have an in-your-face quality. Subtlety it passe. The next sign will appear over and above the first one and try to trump the first occupant in size if not in scope. Weeds on the side, over and above every building are accepted as Indian characteristics.
It’s only the walls of glass that appear to have won the battle. Concrete can be hammered and nails pounded into any part. Glass, unfortunately, does not offer the same ease. The new IT parks and office complexes have tamed the beast. But wander into any of the old areas within any city and the old laws apply. Right from Broadway in Parry’s to Ranganathan Street in T Nagar, the signs tower all the way to five and six floors. It is impossible to identify individual signs. They are meant only for the company that puts them up. They jut out at every conceivable angle, thumbing their noses at civility and creating a chaotic mosaic. Somehow, the understanding that strategically placed and well-designed signs do more to enhance the image of the company is lost in the melee
In the sixties, the only way to learn to cycle was to plead for time on the weekends or when it wasn’t being used. Even if we managed to clamber on to the seat, by wheeling the bike next to the closest available platform, there was no way our short legs could reach the pedals and pump them to get ahead. Boys riding a girl’s bike, which did not have a central beam was considered sissy. So, it was the accepted practice for boys to ride with both legs split below the beam, arms stretched across the handlebars, body jutting out at a 45-degree angle, pedaling furiously and hoping that we would stay on course. A stream of instructions from friends accompanied every attempt “Don’t look down. Look straight. Pedal. Don’t stop” As if we could do everything at the same time. Miraculously, we could. Today, there are guard wheels, cycles built in staggered heights, constructed to match the size of little legs, but somehow, there was a lot more daredevilry in being able to ride the bike at this insane angle.
It took me a week to finally manage to do everything. Put my legs through the bar. Pedal at the crazy angle, with friends shouting encouragement. The first time it all came together, it was so exhilarating I forgot to look ahead. The technique also had an inherent side effect. It was always easier to ride in a circle. The moment I had to go straight, it took tons of effort. So, minutes after thinking that I had mastered the technique, I charged into a light pole. And ended up with a twisted, sprained ankle that ballooned black and kept me hobbling for weeks. I get funny looks from my kids when I tell them how I learned to ride the cycle. Why make such a big deal of it? And why on earth would you want to end up looking so stupid?
Chennai is a hot metropolis. In terms of the weather, that is. Otherwise, it is a straightjacketed, insular city that welcomes barely anyone. No offence, we are like that only. The weather moves to barely pleasant in November to Feb. The rest of the year, you deal with humongous humidity almost perennially at 90%. It’s enough to make an apple sweat. Or an egg, though I’ve never quite seen either of them (sweat, that is) There are sweat patterns on everyone’s clothes, from the maps of wetness underarms to the sticky maps that stretch across the entire chest. If you like looking cool, stay in your car or make a dash for the nearest air-conditioned space. Or come out only at night, when the weather is just as muggy, but no one scrutinises your clothes with disdain. If you want to get to smell the ultimate melting pot of body odour, just get on to a bus and you’ll get everything from day smells, to the cooking to many indecipherable ones. Chennai is good to anyone with a blocked nose. To everyone else, it’s an olfactory nightmare