BBC coined the term noughties to connote the period 2000-2009. I am taking some liberty to use it for the decade ending in 2010. What did Indian advertising have to offer in the last ten years? How smarter or better have we become by the end of the decade? First stumbling block I encountered while trying to write this commentary was a complete absence of any kind of chronicle. Faced with a topic like this my reptilian response was to try and take a look at the award winning advertising of the last ten years. I ended up torturing all possible search engines on the web trying to find that list?but it remained elusive. The advertising bodies like ad club or AAAI (Advertising Agencies Association of India) were too busy fighting over awards and accommodating oversized egos. They never got the time to compile a list!
Then I thought it might be worthwhile to examine what has changed over the last 10 years. So I randomly picked up ads from different years between 2000 and 2010 from ad index. And to my horror I discovered the truth. I realised that though Amitabh Bachchan, Shahrukh Khan and Sachin Tendulkar have started looking very different in the last 10 years? the marketing and advertising fraternities still believe that they are the biggest ideas available for any brand. I discovered that product actions are depicted with the same old arrows, glows and various other forms of 2D and 3D geometry?though I must admit those geometrical shapes have started looking sleeker. I figured out that all bikes still go through an endless smooth road that leads to nothingness, I figured out that great hair still can only be proven QED with a twirl in slo-mo. I discovered that the plight of the proverbial dark girl hasn?t changed much over the last 10 years ? she is still desperately looking for a husband or a job. Well, enough is enough. I paused before making any more depressing discoveries and asked myself a simple question. How do I want to remember the last 10 years of Indian advertising?
I want to remember the single-minded simplicity of the Fevicol bus ad. The subtle sense of self deprecating humour, the Raghu Rai-ish canvas of interior Rajasthan (without the coffee table book point of view , of course) raised an ordinary adhesive product to a level where it could stick together our collective consciousness.
I want to remember that Thanda matlab coca-cola series. It was not about creating an endearing Indian avatar of cola , it was not about being strategically smart (then it would have had a little longer shelf life) ? it was just about taking dialogue writing skill to a height that captured the imagination of the nation. This series had dialogues that became legendary?for once advertising was competing with mainstream Bollywood.
I want to remember the insightful lyricism of Asian Paints? Har Ghar Kuch Kehta Hai. Again, advertising here stopped being a commercial art form and transcended to a purer art form ? poetry. Robert Frost once famously said that a poem begins with a lump in the throat. Well, the Asian Paints advert begins and ends with one. Advertising of this genre always played with our emotion?but this once ?emotions were recollected in tranquillity?.
I want to remember the Hutch pug with his little master. A lot of fault finders often pointed out to me the heavy overdose of media money behind this ad. But my submission is simple?media money can remind you of an ad ?it doesn?t make the ad memorable. You are almost forced to remember a Nirma washing powder or a DoCoMo jingle because of their media spend?but the tricky question will remain: do you remember them fondly? The Hutch dog survived on pure fondness ? the simplicity of story telling, the subtle tug at our heartstrings took the dog and its master to a fairytale world.
How can I not want to remember Happydent? The story of a hapless light bulb getting delayed in a project managed display of decadence. This piece of communication works like the layered richness of an Indian dessert. Every time you watch it, you end up enjoying an undiscovered layer. Sometime it will be the backhanded look at the absurd servility of the labour class in front of the landowner, sometimes it?s the rich tapestry of classical notes, sometimes it?s the intelligent portrayal of the decaying decadence of the bourgeois.
I want to remember the high decibel launch commercial of The Times of India, Chennai. I never knew sarcasm could be narrated in such an upbeat mood. Many ads have held a mirror in front of us; many ads have attempted to create a slice of life. But Nakka Muka kicked some serious dust in the face of our collective wisdom around that genre. It?s unabashed in its disrespectfulness and unforgiving in its commentary on the absurdity of Chennai public life. But it still manages to create an endearing connection with the viewer.
And finally, even if my memory fails me, the Vodafone zoozoos will never allow me to forget them. A discussion about the last decade is incomplete without these eggheads. John Hegarty often talks about great communication being a judicious mix of intelligence and magic. I don?t know about intelligence but the zoozoos were pure magic. The other day some advertising friend of mine pointed out oh-so-cleverly that zoozoos were about money, it was about being able to do 30 of the ads together. But he forgot to explain why people paid money to buy the DVD of zoozoo ads, why kids refused to eat if they were not played those ads, why everyone knows that these characters are called zoozoos though it has never been mentioned in any communication. At times it?s okay to accept that magic happens? and when it happens it?s always a humbling experience.
Did I miss out anything? I don?t know. I will wait for the advertising bodies to publish the chronicle. But then again, I will never know.
?The author is managing partner, BBH India