A group of men are seated at the tea stall, where a fist fight is under way. A mini-truck pulls in. A man, rather heavy in his built, jumps off the driver’s seat and proposes a challenge to the stronger of the two fist fighters. The driver wins the bout. He chugs down tea and makes off with his truck. The men praise him for his feat and say his mini-truck is just as strong as he is. That’s an advertisement for a mini-truck on the local TV channels these days—very masculine in every sense. 

This ad-film is a constant reminder of how Nepali ads are yet to become about the products, because they are too busy being about society. 

If you are a news presenter on Nepali television, much of your airtime is spent watching commercials that occupy up to 50 percent of the entire news show. Sometimes longer. Seated in your anchoring chair, waiting for the producer to give you your next cue to speak, you become a passive recipient to the commercials that unfold on the monitor. With constant repetition, it’s hard not to know the advertisements by heart. And here’s what I’ve observed: 

Nepali adverts have a thing for jingles. Always. Most adverts are like a condensed music video— a song plays in the background while the characters perform activities that are expected to lure the viewers to the product. More recently, taking cue from the Indian adverts, our ad-makers have also started using patriotic songs to endorse brands. There’s the growing trend of portraying an inclusive Nepal, showing people of all ethnicities embracing a product. But most of the adverts, in an attempt to cash on empathy, are about families. Indian ad-makers have been very successful in their use of short films that sometimes leave you on the verge of tears. In Nepal, we seem to be emulating it and are not quite getting there.

I’m nodding in disappointment/disapproval, laughing or even seething between news anchoring sometimes because I find everything wrong with these adverts sometimes. The woman is the one who’s washing clothes (even when it’s an advert for a washing machine, which was expected to free women of the traditional role at the tap in the first place), preparing tea, cooking rice and changing the diapers. When it comes to adverts like those of cement or construction items, macho-looking men will appear on screen. It’s a reinstatement of the stereotypical gender roles.

The ‘male gaze’ as defined by feminist Laura Mulvey, comes from those making the film, those acting in it, as well as the audience. The media is responsible for averting the ‘male gaze’ which represents a masculine perspective, instead of reinforcing it. The media is not just a watchdog but a guide, and the stakeholders have a responsibility of leading the way toward change. The scenes on Nepali television might be the reality for some households, but it isn’t the universal truth. I grew up in a household where my father has always been the one who makes breakfast. Most of the men in my extended family like to get involved in the kitchen. There are households where fathers not only make breakfast and lunch, but also pack lunch for their daughters to take to school. Sharing responsibility makes things more convenient for everyone. These realities however, are seldom reflected on national television. 

Adverts are revenue for television stations, so putting off their advertisers might not be a choice. But it’s possible to encourage their advertisers to provide them with better ad-movies? While packaging news, the visuals demand attention. A visual editor at a news station spends hours, trying to get the footage in order. But the moment the commercial break comes on, the sync is dismissed. One moment, you have the live telecast of the demise of a national hero, and the very next moment plays a slapstick advert. In between reporting stories about the Maoists and government forces killing each other during the conflict period, I remember this ad that used to be aired during the breaks: a woman—her torso covered in a petticoat— is bathing in a cubicle bathroom. A man is peeping through the keyhole. The woman throws cold water over him when she realises she’s under scrutiny. The problems with this advert: one, the emphasis on the product, which happens to be a bathroom appliance, is lost; two, the station is seconding that there’s humour in being lewd and voyeuristic. That’s still Nepali television for you.

The other problem with Nepali adverts is that we still haven’t learnt to embrace the diversity that Nepal really has. The people featured on ad movies are by default, Kathmandu-urbanites (the patriotic-song adverts are an exception, where religions and ethnicities have some space). I suppose the target population for the products is generally the upper-middle class. But if you are selling a product like instant noodles, you know that it’s the lower-middle class in Nepal for whom the noodles have become a staple. If you are selling telecom services, its purpose isn’t to only serve people sitting in fancy offices or parks. It’s the people in the villages untouched by roads that have come to use mobile phones more than anyone because that’s their sole means of communication. 

A recent ad on Indian televisions caught my attention.

A group of Rajasthani women, doing the Rudali, can’t seem to mourn because a radio station they love is keeping them well-entertained. The ad-film is funny, makes you wonder what’s going on and drives the point home—entertainment. And the target audience isn’t only people in the cities but anyone with access to radio. 

Between complaining about news adverts to the studio manager, when a father appears on screen, rolling rotis and making sure they blow up like little balloons before serving them to his son and wife, there’s room for respite. There’s joy in rying out something new. It’s this advert and its brand I remember, just because it stands out by being different from the other stereotypical ones.