Dig-it 12: Digging the digital industry

When a country has the highest internet growth rate in its surrounding region, the need of taking the marketing and advertising to a whole new level and syncing the traditional ways with digital ones arises. Yes, you got it right; Pakistan is the country in spotlight here, overshadowing the South East Asian region with the highest internet growth rate.  Such a need was addressed when digital marketing tycoons from Pakistan and abroad came together to share their expertise with Pakistani business enthusiasts at Digit12; a conference about digital marketing and advertising held on 18^th of this month at Sheraton, Karachi.

The conference revolved around the ways of bringing  digital innovation to the local industry to keep it at par with the modern  ways of marketing and advertising. The evolution of advertising along with the tactics for successful campaigning were also discussed. Moonis Rehman, CEO Naseeb Networks left the audience’s jaw  dropped when he revealed that the largest advertising agencies have transformed into largest online branding companies. While measuring the footsteps of Coca Cola’s digital journey, Shakir Moin shared how Coca Cola used polar bears to make their campaign for Super Bowl go viral.

 The sessions made it crystal clear to the audience that in this era where the world has been digitalized enough to be accessed merely at the touch of a fingertip, restricting marketing and advertising to the conventional ways would mean retracing its steps back to the scratch for a brand. Successful reaching out to consumers would involve increasing their digital access to the product and digitalizing their experience.

Almost all the sessions laid stress upon the need of understanding and connecting to your customers through the art of creating stories which tug at their emotional strings. Speakers also shed light upon the significance of generating relevant content to grasp their audience’s attention. Michael Leander, Master trainer in marketing and advertising from Denmark, praised those brands which empower their employees to generate content at free will by calling them the most successful ones.

Mobile marketing was also regarded as one of the substantial  tools in reaching out a large number of audience.  The facts presented at the session, by PTA’s courtesy showed that  out of 120 million mobile subscribers in Pakistan, 20 million are estimated to be mobile internet users.  The concern of majority of people not having mobile internet access in Pakistan was also raised which was met by Naeem Zamindar, CEO Wateen expressing his company's goal of setting up wi-fi hotspots throughout Pakistan. Wateen also served as the official wi-fi partner for the event.

Digit12 was indeed, a great initiative to give the required boost to the digital industry of Pakistan. The statistics shared at the conference,  supported the speakers in their view that although, digital medium is the new girl in town, it has a long way to go until it outdates traditional methods of marketing as a primary medium for companies to publicise their brand given the small number of people who enjoy the privilege of internet access in Pakistan. 

The Inevitable. The Death.

DEATH. This word has been etched on my mind since yesterday. As an upshot, my mood remained gloomy the whole day with me, trying desperately to figure out the reason and ending up rather unsuccessful. In the last 24 hours, I heard about the saddening demise of a handful of people, the beloved ones of those I hold dear and also of those, who I don't know but came to know by virtue of news.

When I was a child, I used to be afraid of going near dead bodies. My immature brain was unable to process how could someone, I saw just a few days ago, could lie so still, not even moving a finger, wrapped in all white, 'like a candy' -that's how I used to refer to it in front of my mom. Listening to others cry and weep used to stir a feeling of uneasiness and I could sometimes feel darkness engulfing me. When I grew up a little, and became sensible enough to know what it means to be dead, I realised how hard it was for me to shed some tears at a funeral, even if it was a close relative. Every time, I went to a funeral, I used to satisfy myself by putting on a sad facade and faking to wipe tears off my eyes. 

The time, tears came rushing on their own without having me to try, was when I heard about the death of a distant relative. The person who filled the abyss that was created by the death of my paternal grandparents, even before my parents tied the knot. Deep down I knew I had lost someone who has showered me with immense love without hoping for me to return the favor and so, those tears were shed however, in discretion.

Surprisingly enough, when my maternal grandmother set off on the eternal journey, I expected it to be extremely painful. The pain never came. A few hours after making my way to the funeral, I found myself playing in the garden with other children. 

It took kinda long for the true meaning of losing someone to hit me. It was painful beyond imagination when my childhood bestfriend  B's father died. I didn't know how to confront her, let alone console her. My mother kept telling me how much in need of a shoulder she is to cry on. My senses were completely blocked out to accept the reality and I came up with my final decision. To not go to the funeral. Turned out, my mother's taunts directed at my in-sensitiveness left me with no choice but to take my decision back. Dejected, I made my way towards B's place. I saw her sitting in a room surrounded by a flood of people, and sat next to her. She kept weeping and choking as a relative of hers tried to force spoonfuls of Biryani down her throat. I looked at my mom, who kept nudging me to offer a few consoling words to B. As soon as I opened my mouth, no words came out but the crying. Watching me cry, she started crying louder. I was embarrassed at the thought of how I couldn't fight back my tears, it all came shattering down in a matter of seconds. Next moment, I gathered myself and made a run for my house. I never looked back, knowing that I'd made it all worse for my friend.

To this date, I'm still a coward. I still am oblivious of how to confront those, who have lost a beloved one? For this very reason, I avoid attending funerals for which I might have been taken as an unkind person. 

I would I'm filled up-to-the-brim with pure hatred for the cruel aliens (as calling them humans would be a disgrace to the entire human race), who take lives of others for material and political reasons without stopping to think how many other souls will be lost along with one. However, they all should be totally aware of the fact that one day they'll meet their dreadful fate. As Day of Judgement is as inevitable as death.

(Extra)Ordinary.

Just a few hours ago, upon continuous insistence of my mom, I accompanied her and my sister to a local women's park. It's one of the projects undertaken by Baldia town Karachi, all painted in yellow and green. To my amazement, the park was home to many visitors today. The last time, I passed by, it was newly inaugurated and hence, deserted.I chose to sit on a bench and practise my see-through skills on the people around. Sitting there, I thought to myself how ordinary I am at times, choosing to go with the flow, doing what everyone else has been, acting like I have no brains of my own. I am as ordinary as others surrounding me. I take pride in that. In my head, I have jot down a whole list of things I wanna be in near future. So had others. On the first look, they'd seem different but from within, stems one desire: Quest to do better, be better, live better. My definition of 'better' is very much distinct from others, but in the end it doesn't really matter. We all are in a state of being dissatisfied from where we stand at the moment and want more, more of everything.But then, undoubtedly, I'm different. I choose to be. I might be one ordinary kid right now, but I don't intend to remain being one. My perspectives doesn't reflect those of my parents, I can form opinions of my own accord. I do things I think are 'right', I refrain from the 'wrong' ones. I agree, I disagree or just remain silent. I'm open to new and crazy ideas and let my imagination break through the boundaries holding me in real life. I'm determined and inspired to do something unique, so that when I embrace death, I'm not one of those thousands who die everyday and nobody but a few close relatives pay a heed. I wanna be remembered in good ways. And someday, hopefully, would I be able to make my name. And then I'd no longer be ordinary; I'd be DIFFERENT. If that's a good thing.

A will-not-come-true dream.

Back in the days, I used to be so fond of reading that I'd even pick up random newspaper cuttings I'd found lying on the streets, being run over by several feet and tyres. I'd try to manage reading them before I get home, ending up getting myself bumped into other passers-by in the process and sometimes even putting myself on the risk of being hit by the vehicles.
Those days, our family used to be subscribed to Daily Jung for the weekends. One of those days, I was skimming through  the Sunday magazine in search of something interesting enough for me to satisfy my lust of reading when I happened to read a feature about Pakistan Air Force welcoming their first batch of female Flying Officers, after the completion of their training. The term 'Flying Officer' caught my attention. I pronounced it over a couple of times. It sounded really impressive, filled with a sense of authority and accompanied by an endeavor to unleash your potential and to be able to escape into the sky, extending boundlessly overhead.  That was when I knew this is what I've always meant to be. Before that, whenever I was asked about my future plans, the only answer which used to escape my lips without a second thought was "Doctor" but it was just a matter of time that I realized that all those times it wasn't me speaking, but my elders. My heart always laid somewhere else.
Soon enough, 'Flying Officer' turned from merely a word into a dream for me; a dream which will never be fulfilled. I and my parents mutually decided that I shouldn't pursue this dream of mine. I wouldn't dig into the details behind this decision.
 But my dream hasn't died. On the contrary, it has continued to grow stronger. Whenever, I hear the noise of a PAF plane, I run as fast as I could, just to catch a glimpse of it. Just watching these planes soaring high, inspires me. I'm totally aware of the reality that I wouldn't be able to fly a fighter plane but I won't rest until I set sail onto the skies; one way or the other.
After all; in dreams and in love, there are no impossibilities. None.

The flow of emotions, night comes with.....

As I stare at the screen of my laptop, with my fingers efficiently pressing the chosen-ones through an array of keys with a rhythm matching the one with which different thoughts strike in my mind, I simply take in the atmosphere encompassing my senses. The  cool breeze, brushing past my body, is chilly enough to refill my sensations with an energy, gentle beams of which I feel to be emanating from within my soul. It fills my nostrils, my nostrils letting the aura in my body as it opens a new doorway for each cell of mine. I can feel it swishing past the fog overshadowing me, as it penetrates deep within, making way for something better -hope and inspiration. My tormented soul feels alive, the emptiness previously running through my veins engulfing in itself. My  lips hum along the Titanic theme "Rose" softly. Some things are composed to be eternally beautiful and immortal. This theme is one of those.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7WVQXlVLzcU&feature=related

At this late hour, I'm wide awake. I have legitimate reasons to be. I rarely get a chance to rejoice the night time. I just got one.
Twilight, just before the sunrise, is referred to as a glint of hope by many. To me, the stars embedded in the night sky, gleaming with all their might, yet unsuccessful to be brighter than the moon brings the same feeling of optimism. With the arrival of night, comes a number of different faces of life. For some, it makes their lives cease. For some, it's just the inception of what has to come their way. At night, gloom and pessimism walk in,  holding hands with joy and mirth. A run-down house round the nook, in which a father is engrossed in thinking if he'd be able to feed his children the next day. The little children being fast asleep, dreaming, oblivious of the rest of the world. From few yards away, comes the loud sound of music, which can make anybody move. Friends cracking with laughter, gathered around the bride-to-be, who is dreaming about the new life, she's about to step in. Miles apart, a family walks into a shopping mall, the mother assuring her daughter to buy the branded hand-bag she keeps asking for. They are being watched, out of the corner of a pair of glittery eyes. The spectator, a beggar wolfing down the piece of bread, which she managed to buy after knocking the windows of many cars asking for a penny, as the baby, in her lap shifts uncomfortably, weeping.
Pitch- black nights. Someone, enveloped by dark, asking for forgiveness, kneels in front of an invisible God. It makes his heart pure of all the material things. A student, half-awake, half-asleep, is preparing for the test next day. The smoke, issuing from his cup of coffee, disappears into the air, leaving a narrow trail. Underneath a blanket, a vibrating phone alerts the person dozing off, followed by his fingers hitting the keypad to text back. A low sound is produced by the whistling of the peon, down some lanes.
The soft moonlight filters through the clouds, as the moon makes its way across the sky elegantly. Being the perfect epitome of selflessness, it spreads its light for those who need it, and equally for those who don't. Shooting stars offer a precious make-a-wish moment for an optimist. As for a pessimist, this moment turns into an unlucky one. Airplanes, with their flickering lights, set sail in an endless smoky sea, with the moon acting as a lighthouse.
Nights are beautiful. They make your observations even more beautiful, letting you observe what days fail to let you as the hustle-bustle, the calm touches the bottom of your soul.

Let live. Would you?

It's been long, since the last time I poured my heart out through this blog of mine. In the meantime, several new things came along the way, some I liked, others I rejected with utter disapproval, though it didn't change the way others look at it or let me rephrase it: It did change nothing.

Sometimes, life just seems so dependent on others. When you start judging yourself on the basis of 'what-will-others-think?' , putting them in-charge to determine the worth of the life, you are so-called the owner of, many of your precious moments are rendered for the sake of pleasing those "OTHERS" who, a vast majority of them, are too busy making your life worse to be pleased.
People have mouths. Big ones. Neither do they know an iota about your life, nor they understand a bit of  it, nevertheless, they talk about it, run a search on your life, make the results suit their desire of defaming you, one way or the other, tag you under many false labels,  find a loophole in your personality and there they get moving, making it bigger for others to realize how wrong of a path you are on, making many fingers point at you and follow your trail all life long. In this cacophony, your own voice gets drawn in. Even though, you shout at the top of your lungs, no one seems to hear a thing, like your voice is dissipating into thin air.
Call me nuts. Call me dumb. Well, I guess I'm one, when it comes to understanding what do people get out of poking their nose in someone else's life? What kind of satisfaction comes along with misery, someone else's? I wonder how can they not find better things to do with their time than being concerned about others' life?  Morality asks us to respect diverse opinions, views and beliefs but then why do people run over imposing their values on others?  One can not be judged on the basis of values, which aren't their own.
 Sometimes, I feel like I'm in an endless maze, groping in the dark to find my way out, which doesn't exist. With darkness closing in, I try to tell people who I really am, that I have the right to live my life the way I want it and that they have whatsoever no right to judge me but they just stand there, some laughing, some snickering. Then, hopeless, I turn to faces I recognize and love the most, to see them pointing at me with voices of "We told you, we told you" banging at my ear-drums. My vision starts to blur and my eyes move out of focus. It gets hard to breathe. I hear a thud. It's me hitting the ground. I'm out....