Thread by @ramkid

The famous adman was in an introspective mood. Again. WFH does that. The world is no longer a simple place, he thought. It's hurtling gracelessly from moment to moment. Jerking and twerking with every knee tap. And crazed knee tappers are everywhere. +

He used to be fond of telling youngsters, 'these are your good old days, make the most of it'. But today he wondered if that was true, as he read a chain of tweets drenched in hate. +

He smiled as he recalled some lines he wrote in the prewoke world. 'Make your man get home early.' 'Give her a kitchen she wouldn't want to leave.' He'd be trolled to a cinder if he wrote such lines today. Rightly so, he thought. +

He discovered a hack to deal with it. Write what you are conditioned to, then swap the genders. A short cut to instant wokedom. 'Make your woman get home early.' 'Give him a kitchen he wouldn't want to leave. 'Wash her sari with the same love you have for her.' See? +

He had spent years writing scripts with generic characters - Rahul, Priya, Ramu, Sheelaji, Dadaji. It was still okay for Sandra to always be the secretary, and Kantabai to be the maid. No client asked for any further detail. +

Every ad film maker worth his walkie talkie knew how to create the average Indian cardboard cutout housewife. Stripped of region and religion. But sharp as a razor when it came to saving a buck, removing a stain, or whipping up a snack. +

The famous adman remembered the day he told a shocked client, 'Let's make Rahul into Reetinder, a sardar. After all emotions are universal.' It took a week of persuasion to get it approved. The ad became a hit. It made Ramaswamis, Rituparnos, and Rustoms buy the brand too. +

But soon that wasn't enough. Reetinders were falling in love with Rehanas. And Dubes were doing deals with Daniels. And advertisers thought that could be an opportunity to look cool. Being cool moved more stock from warehouses. +

The adman dug out the first ad that got him into trouble. A tear-out from an old Stardust. A couple doing the saat-pheras wearing their sneakers. The line was 'You'll never want to get out of them'. Not a terribly original thought, but the picture was fantastic. +

All hell broke loose. Some showrooms got trashed. He made it to the front page. He got threat calls. The photographer, as it turned out, was a Muslim. He did the assignment because the art director loved his work. He went into hiding. He had to. +

As skins became thinner, briefs got thicker. Not with product information, but with psychosociobabble. Marketers saw hashtags get way more popular than taglines. ICantBreathe left JustDoIt in the lurch. BLM scaled heights YSL couldn't. Brands thought this was too good to miss.+

Ah, I'm getting cynical, thought the famous adman. I'm watching too much George Carlin and Bill Hicks on YouTube. I should read some long copy by Tom McElligott, Indra Sinha, Freddy Birdy, and David Abbott instead. Get the old faith back. Believe in the business. +

What is our business, he asked himself rhetorically. Bernbach said the magic is in the product. When did stories of removing pickle stains start needing to be embedded in stories of communal harmony? Is that our job, or should we leave that to the poets? +

Should a brand choose one side of the fence over the other? Or just watch from the cosy comfort of a neutral perch? Celebrities were being trolled for their silence, but nobody was asking a brand for its stance. Why then, he contemplated, were brands sticking their necks out? +

His phone rang. A client. Coincidences have a great sense of timing. The client said, 'My ceo is asking me why we aren't making ads that sets social media buzzing. Wtf do I tell him?'. +

'You make masalas, my friend. Really good masalas. 'Cookin's not finished without Ghanshyam Masalas' is a much loved slogan. Our last ad won an Effie. What more does he want? A Nobel prize for Peace?' +

'He'd love one, actually. His idea is that it takes many ingredients to make the perfect masala. Just as it takes many faiths, languages, cultures... you know where this is going?'. 'Yes', said the adman, 'into the trash can. Let me think about this.' +

He sank into his bean bag. It used to be in his cabin at office. He allowed the imaginary whiff of freshly ground masalas to permeate his thoughts. He went wandering into the flavours and smells of his childhood. +

He remembered the aroma of vatha kuzhambu wafting in, not from Aachi's home but surprisingly from Rosy Aunty's kitchen... wait... vatha kuzhambu...Rosy Aunty.... is there an idea there? ... Mishraji would find the right words..

ANTHE