PARENTS

@rulechange

14.8K followers · usually 12.9K views a post

Views

65.8K

Likes

2.1K

Comments

19

Shares

225

SoundTikTok sound · original sound - lthhngthm3149

View velocity

+9.6K views over 7.7d · ~1.3K/day · 7 observations

Promoted product

Dhara Kachi Ghani Mustard Oil

Why it worked

The video uses a relatable and humorous narrative about the frustration of long family gatherings to frame the cooking process, making the content engaging and shareable. The prominent display of Dhara oils throughout the cooking process serves as a subtle yet effective product placement.

Summary

The video shows the process of making a dish, likely a curry or chutney, using various ingredients and Dhara cooking oils. The creator uses a narrative of waiting for family to leave to express the long duration of the cooking process, highlighting the use of Dhara oils throughout.

Structure

1Preparing almonds and spices
2Cooking tomatoes and other ingredients
3Blending ingredients
4Frying spices and curry paste
5

Original caption

#viral #foryoupage #fyp

More from @rulechange

Product placement

Dhara Kachi Ghani Mustard Oil: ACTS - used for cooking, visible result comes from it. Removing it would change what happens in the video. Dhara Litefine Refined Soyabean Oil: ACTS - used for cooking, visible result comes from it. Removing it would change what happens in the video.

On-screen text

PARENTS FAMILY ANYTHING THE JACKET UBER FIVE FINISHING LATER NEW RELATIVE EXISTED GOODBYE DIFFERENT THINK WELL THIRTY THE SHOOTING EYE SCAM SITTING OPEN AND THERE JIMMY'S 92 FULLY DO LOCAL THEY CAR FREEDOM STOPPED CONVERSATION TWICE KNOW TO LEAVE

Transcript

Why do parents say we'll leave soon at family gatherings like that means anything? I've been standing by the door for 20 minutes holding my jacket like I'm waiting for an Uber that's coming from China. First five minutes. Okay, maybe they're just finishing later. 10 minutes later, they've somehow started a new story. With a random relative I didn't even know existed. 20 minutes. I've said goodbye to the same aunt three different times. Different. Think. Well, thirty minutes in. I'm pacing by the door like a guard dog shooting my parents to let's go. I. Ignore me like a scam caller. By 40 minutes, I'm sitting in the car with the door cracked open, hoping they see me and get the hint. Nope, they're still in there. Laughing about cousin Jimmy's incident back in '92. At the 50-minute mark, I fully accepted that we live here now. Do I unpack and roll in the local schools? They. Car. Freedom. But halfway there, they stopped. To strike up one last conversation with her second cousin twice removed. Twice. Know. To. Leave.