Reach. (the concept)

A brand that gained popularity due to celebrity endorsements and it’s cause at the center is the much famed ‘Being Human’, so it doesn’t come as a surprise that many NGOs in the recent past have followed suit and have had, to a certain extent, a considerable raise in capital generated towards charity.

LogoOne such NGO is ReachOut, having actively worked on kids welfare and adopting an orphanage, all while it’s administration and volunteers are pursuing graduation; ReachOut needs to expand it’s base and to literally reach out and increase it’s penetration into the society.

And to it’s efforts were my contribution towards design of any posters and any such public relations material that needed to project an image to the general public. In connection to which I had the idea of a brand called ‘Reach.’ where premium design, desirability and a sense of satisfactory contribution to the society combined to form a unified corporate reach that had a unique approach towards the newer generation brand conscious youth.

Here are two of the concept designs for a generic t-shirt:

T-shirt 1  T-shirt 3

When in doubt!

A slew of questions arises as the day came to a close, all of which seemed concentric around a single problem. Was it after all true? Were all the incessant nagging, fighting, standing up for oneself, being there for someone when they needed it, lending a shoulder to cry on hoping that one day the favor be returned, those longing nights for a simple good night kiss, those moments that seldom fade away in a busy life, those happy moments that seemed so easily attainable yet so far away, all these and more, were all these mere acts in a play? Was this life to be, after all, burdened by a meager instinct, an instinct to act upon and be the man I am and always will be. Being myself; is that the biggest crime of this century?

Why is it that a soul cannot lay bear to witness what the other is capable of, and worst yet to accept what it is with an open mind? Why is it that a prostitute no more cleaner than the neighboring sanitary worker? She is a human after all, so is everyone! Why is it that you pounce on the first opportunity to topple the other, because you couldn’t handle his success or that your ideas were better than his? I bet on the former. Why is it that a man wearing a pink shirt assumed to be gay? He likes pink, It’s his opinion! Why is it that you could drag a million to make believe a falsity just so you could not handle the truth? Why is it that your feelings matter, and that even in a so called “relationship” you could value a woman you barely knew and break up,  just because you didn’t bother to check on it yourself? Why would you keep a business partner in dark, so you could make an extra dollar, maybe his mother is dying of cancer, wherein your need just a luxury? On what basis does the money you have make you any better a person than the homeless guy across the street? What gave you the right to sneak your hand up that short skirt lady standing in the bus? Who says a man doesn’t cry? So the woman next door had an affair with someone, who asked you to debate upon her morals?

What are these questions? Why are men judging men and why is the fear of God instilled upon us if a definitive answer is impossible to come by for what we term as “equality”? If all and greatness is what everyone is destined for then who shall be the evil in the plot of the play? If God really existed, would he then pull you out of the street and place you in an apartment in downtown NY?

These questions, these unanswered questions, they haunt me, taunt me, in my sleep, in my walk, in my thoughts, when I eat, when I go about my regular duties. Why, what, when, where and how is all that matters, but the eternal question of the proverbial “they” in all adages seems unanswered still; if so, what gives him the knowledge and the question of legitimacy to his words remain in doubt. Is it then safe to assume that we all are puppets in a big playhouse curated by a mere child in her playroom? Who are we? What are we? Why are we like so? And what will become of us when the child’s too old to play?