There was a time when ‘uncle’ was a social lubricant. It opened doors, softened requests, and occasionally secured you an extra ladle of curry.
You could be a stranger in town asking for directions, or a neighbour borrowing a ladder – ‘uncle’ did the job with a warmth that neither first names nor surnames could manage.
Somewhere between joint families and joint ventures, however, the word appears to have acquired a different meaning – from affectionate address to cultural eye-roll.
The 30-second demolition job
Enter the latest exercise in corporate creativity – the Birla Opus IPL ad. The setting is an airport. The plot, thinner than economy-class legroom. A middle-aged man reads a claim – 16-year warranty – and does what any sentient consumer might: he asks, ‘Who believes that?’
Cue the cavalry. Not scientists, not painters, not even someone who has held a brush — but a parade of cricketers. Each solemnly assures the nation that belief, like line and length, is their core competence.
And then comes the punchline. Delivered with the subtlety of a yorker to the ribs: ‘I believe it too… uncle.’ The same script plays out at the nets in another version, with equal emphasis on ‘uncle’.
Translation seems to be ‘You relic, you fossil, you man who still reads warranty terms.’ The poor fellow lowers his head, presumably not under the weight of logic, but under the burden of being born before the IPL.
When doubt became a disease
One is tempted to ask: when did scepticism become a geriatric condition? Since when did asking a question qualify you for early admission into irrelevance?
There is something admirably efficient about this script. In under 30 seconds, it manages to insult a paying demographic, glorify celebrity endorsement as a theory of knowledge, and reduce a culturally rich term like ‘uncle’ into a verbal slap.
In a country where ‘chacha’, ‘kaka’, ‘anna’, ‘mama’, ‘thatha’, ‘dadu’ are linguistic heirlooms – words that carry respect without servility – we now have copywriters who believe the sharpest insult they can muster is a family title. This is not creativity. This is shorthand masquerading as wit.
The great airbrushing
To be fair, the brand seems to have discovered, rather late in the day, that alienating people with disposable income may not be the most robust business model. The word ‘uncle’ has now been quietly edited out – a warranty shorter than the one advertised.
One imagines the emergency meeting.
‘Gentlemen, we may have gone too far.’
‘Should we rethink the idea?’
‘Don’t be absurd. Just delete “uncle”.’
Problem solved. Ageism, like a bad paint job, can apparently be fixed with a quick touch-up.
A stain that lingers
But the episode leaves behind a more stubborn stain. It tells you something about the current state of advertising – where relatability is confused with ridicule, and cleverness with arrogance.
If this is the creative benchmark, one almost misses the old days of jingles and overacting – at least they did not require you to check your birth certificate before watching television.
Meanwhile, somewhere in that airport – or at the nets – our middle-aged sceptic stands vindicated, not by the cricketers, but by the edit. Turns out, uncle was right.
