Author: workdigital2701@gmail.com

The Tamannaah-Mysore Sandal Soap saga is far more than just the latest celebrity endorsement to draw flak. It’s a textbook case of outdated marketing, a misguided pursuit of beauty ideals, and a “pan-India strategy” that spectacularly misfires by overlooking its own roots.

The KSDL’s Rs 6.2 crore bet on Tamannaah Bhatia was meant to lift Mysore Sandal Soap from the doldrums. Noble intent, perhaps. But, the justification? “Pan-India appeal,” “digital presence.” As if in 2025, consumers are swayed by follower counts over genuine connection. This isn’t just any soap; it’s Karnataka’s own, a matter of deep regional pride. The outrage isn’t against Tamannaah – she’s merely a celebrity doing her job. It’s about us. It’s about a government-owned enterprise ignoring the profound, organic connection it already has with its people – overlooking the far more potent, organic connection a local Kannada actor or actress would bring. 

In fact, many Kannada actors and actresses would have embraced this role for free, out of sheer pride for the state – just like the late Puneeth Rajkumar and I participated pro-bono for the ‘Hosa Belaku’ LED campaign.

This misstep also subtly, yet significantly, ventures into the territory of beauty standards. In an era where women globally are actively dismantling unrealistic ideals perpetuated by media – think the transformation from ‘Fair & Lovely’ to ‘Glow & Lovely’ – a government-owned entity should be a voice of reason, not an echo of dated aspirations. 

Look at Dove’s campaigns, never featuring a traditional brand ambassador, but empowering normal, regular people to feel strong and beautiful in their own skin. Contrast this with the struggles of brands like Victoria’s Secret, which suffered precisely for clinging to exclusionary, aspirational beauty ideals instead of embracing reliability. Mysore Sandal Soap, unlike a luxury product, resonates with farmers, nurses, IT professionals, and families across Karnataka; it is relatable, not aspirational. It’s about a sense of belonging and unity. Injecting a celebrity to endorse it, especially one from a different cultural sphere, risks making the brand aspirational in a way that alienates its core, diverse user base. It replaces the powerful relatability that fosters loyalty with an unattainable image, inadvertently fuelling resentment and a feeling of “not being good enough.”

And then there’s the “pan-India strategy” – often a lazy solution for innovation. For a company reportedly struggling, spending Rs 6 crore on a brand ambassador defies basic financial logic. How many soaps must be sold just to recoup that fee? This pursuit of a “pan-India” facade, a desperate grab for external validation, feels less like a strategic revival and more like a costly eye-wash. You don’t need someone to make Karnataka’s brand pan-India. You make Karnataka itself pan-India, and Mysore Sandal Soap will follow. 

In a market where even Lux fights daily for relevance, KSDL’s true strength lies in its consistency, quality, and the profound, enduring pride Kannadigas have in their soap. The intent might be there, but the execution? A fundamental misreading of everything that truly makes a brand great.

Strategic autonomy remains an illusion in the absence of technological sovereignty. A nation that lacks the capacity to manufacture its own armaments finds itself vulnerable to the whims of key defence exporting countries. Its military strategies are contingent upon supply chains beyond its influence, and its ability to deter adversaries is compromised by reliance on others. Theoretical frameworks derived from realist international relations, especially structural realism, indicate that in an anarchic world system, the primary imperative for the state is survival. Survival is an endeavour that cannot be delegated to others. When the integrity of national security relies on external validation, even the most formidable diplomatic efforts become ineffective against embargoes, export restrictions, or the unpredictable nature of geopolitical dynamics. This strategic realisation is beginning to pay dividends for India. Despite still being the world’s second-largest arms importer, accounting for 8.3% of global imports, just behind Ukraine’s 8.4% according to SIPRI, India has shifted course since 2014. The focus has moved beyond mere procurement towards co-development, co-

production, and indigenous innovation. The aim is no longer just to acquire weapons but to build the capacity to design and produce them domestically. Initiatives such as the Defence Industrial Corridors in Tamil Nadu and Uttar Pradesh, the corporatisation of the Ordnance Factory Board, and the launch of Innovations for Defence Excellence (iDEX) signal a structural push towards developing in-house defence R&D. Successes like the Tejas fighter jet, the DRDO-developed anti-satellite missile (ASAT), and the Agni-V intercontinental ballistic missile are no longer isolated achievements, they reflect the emergence of a broader, self-sustaining military-industrial ecosystem. Simultaneously, technology transfer agreements and licensed production under the Strategic Partnership Model are enabling Indian firms to move up the value chain. India is no longer content being a passive buyer, it is steadily becoming a sovereign producer. Atmanirbharta in defence is not a distant goal. It is fast becoming the country’s strategic posture.

For offensive capabilities, SkyStriker loitering munitions, manufactured domestically under technology transfer from Israel’s Elbit Systems, enabled deep penetration and destruction of enemy radar and missile installations. These AI-enabled kamikaze drones hovered over target zones, identified high-value assets, and struck with zero collateral damage. The Indian Air Force also deployed long-range drones for real-time ISR (Intelligence, Surveillance, and Reconnaissance), while DRDO-developed electronic warfare systems successfully jammed Pakistan’s Chinese-supplied radar and missile infrastructure, completing the mission in under 23 minutes, without any loss of Indian assets. Ground forces remained on high alert using a layered defensive posture comprising legacy systems like Pechora and OSA-AK, and new-generation assets like Akash-NG and LLQRM (Low-Level Quick Reaction Missiles). The Indian Army’s Counter-Unmanned Aerial Systems (C-UAS) grid and shoulder-fired missiles formed the first layer of protection, reinforced by low-level air defence (LLAD) guns and electro-optical tracking systems.

There are some things about life that we take for granted. Sometimes that list includes life itself, whether we realise it or not. On Wednesday, May 21, I boarded an Indigo flight from Delhi to Srinagar. Just another day in public life. Just another flight. I take my usual seat at 19F, at the emergency exit. Opting for that seat is an old habit.

I’m on autopilot, doing all the things I normally do on a flight. Forty-five minutes in the air. Halfway to our destination. Then, there is an announcement over the PA, asking us to fasten seatbelts. 

But there’s no turbulence. About five minutes later, we see lightning, clearly visible as it stabs through daylight. Now there is some turbulence, but it progresses rapidly. I realise this is not your regular turbulence. This is severe, the likes I’ve never experienced on my ‘frequent flyer miles’ before.

Not Your Usual Turbulence

The plane is scarily tilting to the right. I am acutely aware of this because I am seated on the right-hand side of the Airbus A321neo. I’m accustomed to planes banking for a variety of reasons, but this does not feel like a normal situation.

It is not a series of bumps or jerks. The entire aircraft starts tilting precariously. We are hurtling down, seemingly to a sickening drop. Not a minute or two, I would say, at least ten terrifying minutes. Outside, all we can see are clouds, ripped apart by angry streaks of lightning and constant hail. My mind is racing.

Now there are other noises in the passenger cabin. Not the normal buzz of conversation or a meal service. No, now people are screaming. Praying. Chanting. Some are actually screeching. The wave of sound creates added tension and fear. I am conscious of passengers trying to film on their phones. But a voice – was it male? Female? Passenger? Flight attendant? I can’t remember. The voice says, ‘Stop filming’.

My life doesn’t flash before me. Instead, I’m consumed by the thought that if something goes terribly wrong, I will miss the wedding in a few months of my only daughter. I think of my daughter, wife, stepdaughters, brothers, colleagues, friends. I think of what a tragedy it would be to leave them all behind, without the chance to say goodbye to any of them.

Sadness. The sadness is overwhelming. It is a deep, abiding sorrow for relationships and friendships that will not progress beyond this fraught afternoon.Yes, I am aware of how blessed my life has been. Perhaps – I honestly don’t know – it had something to do with going to a dingy lane in Kolkata in 1990, which housed the worldwide headquarters of a congregation of nuns. The setting was spartan, almost awkward: four tackily painted wooden stools set out on a verandah overlooking a quadrangle. My first meeting and touching the hand of Mother Teresa (now St. Teresa of Calcutta).

So, what else ran through my mind? I didn’t think about politics. I didn’t think about Parliament. I didn’t think about the number of followers I had on X or Instagram. I was focused on the people I love. People who mean the world to me. People who have been an important part of my life.

I prayed to a higher being. I made a pact. A pact to be good. 


My colleague, a few seats away, had felt the tension too. We had battled our own fears in our ways. Bathed in perspiration, he looked as if he had just stepped out of a shower. At the time, I didn’t think to ask him what I looked like.I didn’t follow. I remained seated. Alone. Why? I’m not sure. Perhaps to let it all sink in. Perhaps to process it all. Perhaps to decompress. I don’t know why exactly. But it gave me a chance to speak to the pilots before they left the aircraft. I thanked them on behalf of all the passengers and crew. The captain told me that it had been the most difficult flight in his forty-one years as a pilot. We kept speaking, but I promised him that the rest of our conversation would remain private forever. 

I only saw the damage to the nose when I deplaned. I still have no idea what that damage could have done, or the potential danger it posed to our collective safety.

I am home now. It’s been a week. I thought I’d dealt with it in my own way. But I was wrong.

Then, a few hours ago, I spoke to a childhood friend. He did the best thing any friend could ever have done. He listened. I had to stop several times as my emotions welled up repeatedly. All he said, amid the prolonged silence and my stifled sobs, was a simple, quiet, “It’s all right. I’m here.” I had to stop several times to regain my composure.

A few weeks ago, the European Union’s Europol made over 25 arrests during a crackdown on AI-generated Child Sexual Abuse Material (CSAM). The operation which spanned 35 countries led to 70 arrests, the rescue of 39 children, and the seizure of devices.

The main accused, a Danish national, ran an online platform which allowed users access to AI-generated content depicting child abuse, after making a “symbolic online payment.”

This is the brute reality of child sexual abuse in the digital era, a state-of-the-art borderless crime, amplified by anonymity, which is difficult to detect using traditional frameworks. AI-generated abusive content like deep-fake manipulation, chat-bots and other emerging forms like self-generated content, live-streaming of CSAM, online grooming, and Webcam Child Sex Tourism (WCST) are on the rise. Even though the artificially created content has no real victims, it raises serious concerns about the human tendency to derive gratification from simulated suffering inflicted upon children, eventually triggering demand for such content everywhere.

A Legal Turning Point: From Moral Denial to Legal Recognition

India accomplished a breakthrough in its legal journey on September 23, 2024, when the Supreme Court delivered a landmark Judgment in Just Rights for Children Alliance v. S Harish, addressing the legal governance and criminalisation of “CSEAM- Child Sexual Exploitation and Abuse Material”, earlier known as “Child Pornography”.

The case arose from a Madras High Court judgment that quashed the criminal proceedings against an accused found in possession of CSEAM. It held that mere possession/storage or viewing of such material without an intent to transmit does not constitute an offence under the Information Technology Act, 2000 or Protection of Children from Sexual Offences Act, 2012 (POCSO Act).

The Supreme Court not only overturned the High Court’s order of terming possession, storage and watching of CSEAM in private as a matter of “mere moral decay” but also criminalised the downloading, viewing, possession, and storage thereof, whether shared or not.The court also issued a sweeping set of directions, marking a watershed moment in India’s jurisprudence on digital child protection. These directions inter-alia mandated legislative reforms by way of replacing the term “Child Pornography” with CSEAM to also cover the generative nature of content. “Child pornography” is misleading and trivialises the severity of the crime, as it implies consensual adult content while ‘CSEAM’ accurately reflects the exploitative nature of these materials, including AI-generated depictions.

Statistics and Trends: Scale of the Problem

The judgment comes amidst an alarming surge in incidents in India. The National Centre for Missing and Exploited Children (NCMEC), USA, in its tip-line report 2023, reveals that India accounts for around 9 million of the 36.2 million suspected CSEAM reports worldwide.

​A 2023 report, Entangled in the Web: Cybercrimes against Children in India by India Child Protection, stated that there was a five-fold increase in such cases from less than 3% in 2017 to 15% in 2021 in the country. Meanwhile, NCRB data revealed a staggering 2,561% increase in reported child pornography cases from 44 in 2018 to 1,171 in 2022.

Recognising the gravity of such cybercrimes, the Government of India implemented the Cyber Crime Prevention against Women and Children Scheme under Nirbhaya Fund. Moreover, a MoU has been signed between NCRB India, MHA and NCMEC for facilitating the tip-line reports on online child sexual explicit contents.

On May 9, the International Monetary Fund (IMF) approved the disbursement of another $1 billion to Pakistan under its latest Extended Fund Facility (EFF), reinstating Pakistan’s dependence on international bailouts. As a country with a high dependence on imported oil, whenever oil prices hike or international borrowing declines, Islamabad’s reserves take a further hit. Since 1958, whenever this occurs, Pakistan has approached the International Monetary Fund (IMF) for a bailout approximately every three years, seeking to save its economy under the condition of improving macroeconomic indicators. While the role of the IMF has been minimal in reforming Pakistan’s governance, its fund facilities have stabilised the economy from falling into the pit grave. However, the key question remains: have IMF bailouts inadvertently enabled an environment to facilitate terror financing? If so, should India try to block IMF funds to Pakistan? 

India Needs An Accountable Pakistan

Contrary to popular imagination, the IMF’s role is distinct, and its programmes impose strict conditions that compel Islamabad to demonstrate some accountability in governance and economic management. And India needs an accountable Pakistan.Corrective policies adopted under the IMF programmes have stabilised some economic conditions to a limited extent. Pakistan, with seven decades of cyclical debt accumulation with the IMF, was able to bring a modest recovery under these programmes. The economic growth rebounded to 2.4% from 0.6% in 2023, and inflation was brought to single digits from double-digit levels in 2025.  In the latest 37-month Extended Fund Facility (EFF) arrangement, which commenced in 2024, the key conditionalities of the IMF programme include implementing sound macroeconomic policies, such as rebuilding international reserve buffers, broadening the tax base, enhancing productivity and competitiveness, and reforming State-Owned Enterprises (SOEs). 

While Pakistan may continue to rely on the IMF to develop reform plans to enhance its economy, the IMF’s role remains minimal until the authorities undertake domestic reforms to improve their governance. However, it forces Pakistan to be accountable to the IMF and the world regarding the money it receives. While Pakistan may continue to rely on the IMF to develop reform plans to enhance its economy, the IMF’s role remains minimal until the authorities undertake domestic reforms to improve their governance. However, it forces Pakistan to be accountable to the IMF and the world regarding the money it receives. 

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