‘Abki baar Modi sarkar’ man knew how to exploit middle-class Indian psyche

Piyush Pandey, artiste par excellence in the glittering world of Indian advertising over the past few decades, passed away with surprisingly little fanfare for a man who made it his business to grab eyeballs.

He had been in a coma for 20 days, with no news of change until singer Ila Arun’s post wept on Instagram, “We have lost our dearest and greatest brother, Piyush Pandey...”

Their bond was one they have long publicly celebrated. Back in 2020, during the Covid lockdown, Arun had shared on Instagram the travails of their Rakshabandhan, when all attempts to buy a rakhi online and get it delivered to her brother in Goa failed. Her friend Christina Pinto do Rosario had finally bought a rakhi and tied it onto Piyush Pandey’s wrist on her behalf, decked up in a traditional saree like a Hindu sister would.

That image of Christina with Pandey in a white T-shirt emblazoned with bade bhaiya, ‘big brother’, likely remained a treasure for Arun.

But it was also a very private treasure, surely.

For the world of real things often endures in silence. True empathy deepens — beyond words, eschewing noise, off the billboards — even as we are surrounded by noise in this modern world. We are noisy in our sharing our happiness, and often we also mark our grief noisily; and yet...

However, the irony is that we also often stand outside the world we create ourselves.

Ours is the age of publicity and advertising. Piyush Pandey was a shining star of this galaxy. In the 1990s, just as India was opening up to the world in its economic liberalisation, many new stars emerged, attempting to showcase India to the world and introduce global products to India. Among these, the names of Piyush Pandey, Alyque Padamsee, Prasoon Joshi, Prahlad Kakkar, Sohail Seth and Dilip Cherian come immediately to mind.

As do the phrases they coined in their ad jingles. If Prasoon Joshi’s “thanda matlab... Coca-Cola” was the product of this era, Piyush Pandey and Asian Paints assured us that “Every home has something to say” — har ghar kuchh kehta hai.

These were the people who best understood the aspirations of the changing Indian middle class.

But Piyush Pandey was different in some ways. Like many other real stars, he didn't let the glitz of this glamorous world cloud his personality. When he did make a personal appearance in this world, he exuded a peculiar simplicity.

During the early years of NDTV, he appeared several times as a guest on the weekly programme ‘Muqabla’ — I always saw him speak with grace and elegance. He came from the advertising world, but he knew that truth lies beyond advertisements.

But in his advertisements, he was quick to exploit the Indian psyche and Indian family culture to the fullest.

His ad blitzes for Fevicol and Fevikwik reminded us of the strength of relationships — and attached the brand image to a message of building relationships that lasted, rather than breaking them down, in a time when the upwardly mobile were growing truly much more (geographically) mobile than past generations.

He made space for the Cadbury chocolate in the sweet-obsessed Indian’s cultural traditions, suggesting that it possesses that something special, something universally important that is not foreign to us.

In fact — and perhaps I am being repetitive here — Piyush Pandey was one of those few who made a precise and successful attempt to keep their finger on the pulse of the ‘New India’ that was just forming 3–4 decades ago.

He was also among the few who understood the changing Indian woman and the power she could (and would) wield. For the Cadbury advertisement, he said, “This chocolate attracts girls from Goa to Unnao”

His heartwarming advertisement for SBI Life Insurance saw an old man gift his wife a diamond with the tribute, “Heera toh kya pata, tumhari umr kya hai [Who can tell the diamond it is ‘old’]?”

In fact, Piyush Pandey was a master of the ‘one-liner’. In the 1980s, when India was still somewhat sleepy, languishing in its mixed economy, he pushed out into the limelight this small moped with “Chal meri Luna [Let’s go, my Luna]!”. Those who remember that era will also remember how in those days, in small towns, a small moped named Luna was popular on the roads for its ability to be pedalled in a ‘fuel emergency’.

But the advertisement for which Piyush Pandey is best remembered is the one he released in 2014 — for the BJP’s Narendra Modi: “Abki baar Modi sarkaar [This time, a Modi government].” Many may credit the sarkaar’s success to this catchy line, but Pandey himself believed that his catchphrase actually became a hit because it had a strong ‘product’ and brand at the heart of it — Narendra Modi himself.

This attitude of political cynicism — of viewing the world of politics and ideas, of leadership and the democratic process in terms of products and brands, amenable to propaganda — may be questionable in itself; but when has the market ever cared about such questions?

As far as memory serves, I don’t recall Piyush Pandey ever clarifying his ideological leanings outside of these advertisements.

Nevertheless, he left us a lesson, perhaps — an important understanding of India’s changing psyche and how it engages with our (then newly emerging) political system — that be it an idea or a government, ultimately all relies on advertising and publicity.

It’s no coincidence that the budget for government advertisements has grown manifold in recent years, and various propaganda wars are ongoing on social media sites around the world. Unfortunately, with this trend, our political commitments have started diving into an abyss of doubt and irresponsibility.

Pandey didn’t just write advertisements of a few lines, by the way; he also wrote a nearly 250-page book — Pandeymonium, which, according to him, was a reflection of a changing India. The book was launched in 2015 by Sachin Tendulkar and Amitabh Bachchan — which spoke volumes about Pandey’s own stature — and the respect he commanded within his community. Indeed, Bachchan Sr has continued to amplify Pandey’s work over the years on social media.

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Piyush Pandey lived a full life. Born into a culturally rich family in Jaipur, he was the eighth of nine siblings — the seventh amongst them grew up to become singer-actor Ila Arun.

Pandey often said that his understanding of the world came from within his family, including his sisters. In an interview with the Telegraph just over a decade ago, he had said that he had been born into a “creative factory”.

He could also have been a great cricketer. He played cricket for Delhi University and on the Rajasthan team. He even played in the Ranji Trophy. In the same interview with the Telegraph, he revealed that it was his cricketer friend Madan Lal who had advised him to enter the advertising world because of his witty remarks.

And now, he is no more.

Although there’s no ideal age for death, 70 seems far too young in today's world. Especially in the world of creativity, it’s an age of redefining oneself — of reinventing oneself! It was at this age that Tagore began painting and, in addition to being a writer, earned international recognition and fame as a painter... So, it can surely be said that Piyush Pandey left this world prematurely.

He had yet to re-evaluate this changing world and coin some new axioms to fit, to make us seem worthier than we perhaps are...

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