In Piyush’s world, Bobby Pawar did not exist. I was introduced to him by Sonal Dabral after he had hired me in 1995. Everyone remembers him by his trademark moustache. To me it has always been his eyes. Two brown orbs that peeped in yours, often from behind the ephemeral veil of cigarette smoke.
They were quick to crinkle when he laughed. Quicker still to tear up when he heard your troubles. Or saw an emotional film. When I first met him though, they were grim. My ego dirtied its pants. He noticed my unease (nothing ever escaped him). He chuckled and said, “Robert, likhnaaatahai?”
After that he always called me Robert. Sometimes with affection. Other times in exasperation. A few times he wielded it as an expletive.That was usually after I missed a client meeting and servicing went running to him with a complaint. When he decided he had doled out enough of a verbal lashing he asked, “Kal raat Bathwal aur tune kitne peg lagaye?”
Before I could answer, he said, “Saat? Aath? Maine bhi char lagaye.” Then he beamed proudly. He took as much joy in our shenanigans, as he did in our triumphs. And thanks to his leadership there were many more of the latter.
This is the man I know and love. An unstoppable force who carried everyone with him. The greatest captain Indian advertising has ever seen. Not only because he played big when it mattered. Or because he got his team members to play out of their skins. But also, because he created several captains.
The game will miss him. So will all the people whose lives and careers he changed. As for me, I will turn around every time I hear someone say Robert.
(The author started his career with Ogilvy Mumbai)