Bird Hit - the Making of a Brand

In the late eighties, The Maruti car had redefined the way we lived and worked. Particularly the latter for me as we were the battery suppliers. Suddenly, technology, scale, a new generation of customers and stiff competition, catapulted us from a manufacturing to a marketing Company.

Where S&M strategies had revolved around channel motivation alone, came the new need to understand the end user. We commissioned, for the first time, a consumer research. While many things emerged in terms of our imagery, consumer expectations etc a single term sticks to the the mind even after two and a half decades. A battery was described as a "grudge purchase". You couldn't start the car without it and never really knew when the expense of replacement would hit you. Additionally, being under the bonnet it had practically no "brag factor" and was therefore seen as a dead cost.

What we had to build a brand was this research docket and the canvas of the battery box. The Maruti car had redefined the technology and look of the battery (some of you readers might recall a black rubber battery box, which could, if required, be repaired at a local workshop). The new technology meant a white plastic container (in later years made more colourful with added pigments) which was sealed and non-repairable. This white container was like a palette on which we could write (screen print) our story.

The next question was what story ? And here is where I come to the point of this piece. Consumer knowledge needs to nestle in the marketeer's mind, be a dialogue point with the Team and the actual idea might come at a point away from the office. On one such afternoon, with my Boss away from office, I was planning to leave a little early. About the time, colleagues were packing up, my Boss charged into the office, glass shards on his shirt and a huge grin on his face. Exide Freedom, he said, "freedom from worries about your battery". His Eureka moment - on a customer visit and driving down the highway a bird hit the windscreen and his mind made this association of worry-freedom-flying bird. 

We were charged with his excitement. Called up our Agency Rediffusion and asked the team to stand by for our brief. I will always remember the creative energy as we drafted and re-drafted the story and finally took it across to our Agency office. There, we had it first torn to shreds by SG (Subhabrata Ghosh) and his team. Then we built it back to something much larger than an advertising campaign. Placing the consumer at the centre, defining our promise of a tension free LSI (Light-Start-Ignition) service, we first constructed his expectations from our channel. This meant, changing the face of the dealer store from practically a garage shop to a consumer lounge, equipped with state-of-the-art service equipment. Releasing the consumer from worries meant a pro-active service call record with our dealers and desirably a computer with a customised CRM. All this might sound very elementary today but this was not so in 1988. We were on the look out for everything that was consumer friendly - including the first to tie up with Citibank and offer battery purchase on credit cards.

Thereafter, we selected a Corporate case study on Organizational transformation, well identifying the need to migrate the mind-set from manufacturing standards to consumer experience. The scale & technology came to our rescue, once again, as we needed to invest hugely in the plant on new production lines. Working from scratch, the plant teams and facilities reflected our new commitment to our consumers.

Finally, came the launch. We had this beautiful logo, with a bird in flight and a manual on model dealer stores. We had to capture the imagination of the network and show them a future "Shoppe" from a hole-in-the-wall garage shop. The battery had to move back-store and consumers would be walking into a lounge space, waiting while their battery was being attended to. We decided on a launch without the product. At Taj Hotels 4 metro properties, we had our event with a 120 square foot area model store. Dealers were given the walk-through experience of the new-age stores. On the sidelines, there are many stories to share of how we stayed up all night (the hotels could hand over the convention space only post 11 pm). When fatigue took over and we made mistakes, re-worked, dozed-off in turns, worried the Agency team and each other and needed Sujit Sanyal's humour to keep us going.

Exide Freedom, redefined the manner in which car batteries would henceforth be sold in the country. We moved on to consolidate our position in all the new generation vehicles. What's more - one by one, we upgraded the battery technology on every 2-wheeler, truck and tractor. A couple of years later Swapan Seth summarised it in a single line "India Moves on Exide".

PS : In the making of this brand, lies my personal story of meeting and marrying a Citibank-er on exactly this date (April 14).

The Father Of Girls

While I shamelessly pinch the title from an old Perry Como number, the lyrics, understandably, are completely out of synch with these times. The relevance of the topic, however, isn't.

On Women's Day, this year we  invited the ladies in our office to share their "breaking barriers" stories and the best 3 were from small towns. A lady from Chiitorgarh wrote : "at the age of 5, my father encouraged me to cross the main road on my own and buy milk and bread. He taught me cycling when I was 9 years of age and gradually I shifted to a Scooty and finally a car. Today, I enjoy driving on highways" at the age of 18, this lady lost her father to a road accident. She had to step in and take charge of a younger sister and mother, complete her studies and get a job. Another lady, proudly stated that she is the daughter of a farmer and being good in academics, received full support from her father to get to where she is today. 

At home, the dinning table was our decisions space. A nuclear family, Dad daily (apart from the 10-12 days he traveled on work) risked being (over)ruled by the 3 ladies at home. Age was not a discriminator at home. Whether it was buying a TV (folks my age will recall this was a big decision in the early 70s) to traveling on an out-station school trip, I had a say even as a 10 year old. I remember in my early teens in Delhi, one evening we were driving around town and Dad stopped before a General Store. He pulled out his wallet and handed it over to me, so I could pick up some ice cream from the store, while Mom and he stayed back in the car. Mom was not certain this was very wise but I recall Dad's statement on that day "I trust her". A simple statement and one I learnt to value at a much later age. He meant more than trusting me with the safe keep of the wallet, the accountability for the money in it, the capability to look after myself and the ability to make the correct choices. It is this same trust that left him unfazed when I drove home late from work in a low reliability Gazelle car (makers Standard Motors which wrapped up business in the late eighties). 

A man far ahead of his times, he truly believed that a woman was capable of much more than a man. For him, this did not mean being a feminist. Quite to the contrary, he believed in his daughters learning everything. So be it Rabindrasangeet (as true blue probashi kids growing up in Mumbai), dress making, baking to short programs at Indo-American Society during summer breaks on topics from Public Speaking to Business Correspondence, Interior Designing and Speed Reading (his only regret being that I drew the line on Self-hypnosis which honestly I, too, regretted in later years) I did it all. While quietly preparing his daughters for the Corporate world, whether man or woman , he believed firmly in appropriate grooming. He was very keen that my sister and I take a formal course in make-up and hairdos - another thing on which his tomboy daughter disagreed (again a learning, which I corrected with my teenage daughter, who is today trained in professional grooming).

If there was another thing on which he had complete conviction, it was reading and learning. Prior to enrolling at the driving school he had us read up on driving. I literally learnt to swim from a guide book and had him take a very keen interest in my sewing machine and bought me dress designing accessories and Vogue magazines, during my college years when I stitched my own clothes. Once again, an early conversation with my sister comes to mind. My sister was academically brilliant and an avid reader. I started on Harold Robbins and Arthur Haley at an early age and remember him mentioning that there is never a given "right age" for reading a book. 

If I were to draw a direct connect to my current portfolio, it goes back to when I was in Class VIII. Our school project work and holiday homework meant preparing charts. Dad had one of his Sales Conferences and asked for my help with his charts. Just by chance, I happened to note some of the numbers and was able to pick up an anomaly. That established me as his regular assistant and I was soon a proud owner of a set of stencils, sketch pens and an 18" ruler for my first professional break. 

This theme has received some public attention, of late, with our PM flagging-off the #SelfieWithDaughter and Sheryl Sandberg endorsing an Ariel advertisement where a father rues the stereotypical role families impose on their daughters ~ http://money.cnn.com/2016/02/25/news/sheryl-sandberg-India-share-the-load/ . The ad reminded me of one of our most endearing memories of growing up - Mom and Dad making the evening rotis with him tossing the rotis on the tawa before Mom took over and placed each directly on the flame to make them puff up - when any failed the fault was Dad's but when they turned out good, she was the one who made them perfect !

The Importance of being Hindu

Thoughts on reading - Being Hindu (Old faith, New World & You) by Hindol Sengupta

In normal course I would have completely missed this book at the store. It had to be a business associate and a RSS pracharak who (seeing the bemused expression on my face as I heard him out on the Pracharak's role and responsibilities) took it upon himself to educate me. It is also a fact that the debates surrounding beef eating, student suicides, call for nationalism and the cacophony in the name of religious debate has been pushing most of us to seek answers. Would this book, then, help me to understand something differently? 

I returned from office, one day to find this neatly wrapped gift. The jacket of the book is a shade of blue (note the colour saffron is consciously dropped along with pictures of gods and goddesses - referenced in the chapter How to Write about Hindus) normally associated with Siva and reminded me of the Amish book covers. Smart and contemporary, it promised an exploration of Hinduism in the context of the modern world. 

Looking back on my college days and the close buddy group of Lakshmi, Meena, Mark, Hasan, Shailja, Ajay & Uzair it is no surprise that I never stopped to ask what is being a Hindu. The prologue where he describes his early days at The Assembly of God Church school, therefore, was an immediate connect. It felt like being back in my Convent school, the nuns moving about in their graceful whites (life and celluloid blended in the Sound of Music). I identified with him in treating Biblical stories as an extension of Mahabharata & Panchatantra. The smell of the chapel blended with the celebration of the many Hindu festivals. Memories remain a whirl of carol singing, energetic Holi celebrations, dolling up for Durga Pujas, dandia and biryanis on Id.

The chapter - What Makes You a Hindu - interestingly begins with an acknowledgement of the "sonorous, therapeutic silence of the cathedral and the poetry of Islamic devotion". Synthesising readings, with a strong leaning on the Ramakrishna and Vivekananda interpretation, the author places emphasis on the many paths with the same objective, relevance of various forms (of worship) to suit different people in different stages of knowledge. The emphasis lies on God as an anchor to handle the moral and physical blandishments of the world. The ultimate realisation being in the awareness of unity and basic oneness. 

Growing up in Mumbai one did not question religion, where people lived or what people ate . Jain friends posed a slight challenge but in a household where every form of meat other than beef was cooked, mother rose to the occasion and friend did not object. Many years later we faced two very different situations and I do not believe these are exceptions. One, on my sons' birthday an anxious Jain parent called up to let me know her boys should not be served any food in our house as the utensils were also used for cooking non-vegetarian food. In another, a friend from our Club offered us the use of his weekend home in Raichak but kept the kitchen out-of-bounds. Hindol Sengupta being a Bengali, I started on the chapter "Does being Hindu Mean you are a Vegetarian ?" with some anticipation. May be here I would find the reasoning mind that explains the current preoccupation with banning beef.  I found him, however, summarily dismiss the subject fairly early in the chapter with a quote from Vivekananda "a sure sign of softening of the brain when the mind cannot grasp the higher problems of life" and a firm statement that Vedanta does not lie in cattle. From there he quickly moves on to exploring respect of nature, being environmentally conscious and shares a deep pain over his visit to Varanasi. "Why are our places of worship ever so often callously dirty and disturbingly malodorous, with petty cash transactions?" He asks. Again, I relate totally with him.

So, Hindol Sengupta, I say your book is an interesting exploration. A pit stop for recalibrating. A meeting point for minds that have been a product of a similar environment, education system and reading habits. An order of spiritual inquiry which many of us go through at some point in our lives ( with due respect however for your research and presentation). At the end of it all, however, I still have this question on my mind. Where from comes then, this hardliner view that is consuming our media, social network and more importantly unleashing intolerance?

Song Sung Blue

As the media obsesses over colour at the start of the Holi week, a tidbit caught my attention. In Japan, they are recommending colouring books for adults as stress busters. Apparently this is akin to meditation.

Each of us have our own stress threshold and ways of handling it. When I was in college and Dad about 55, he woke up one morning feeling giddy and had to excuse himself from work. This practically shook him to the core and sent some tremors in the family - because Dad never missed office! Adding to his woes, this was a day of the Sales Conference and outstation colleagues were in Mumbai. This led to his immediately giving up smoking ( a struggle we lived through for at least 10 years prior to that day, with my patient Mom also accepting his experimenting with snuff in an effort to fight the nicotine crave). At the same time began his exploration of yoga. He went for a week to The Yoga Institute, Santacruz and came back armed with many books. Ma, always supportive, joined him for an evening yoga class and suddenly dinner time topic took a singular character.

Slowly, I started to get drawn in and following Ma on some simple stretch asanas. About the same time, again, thanks to an over zealous Dad, I had enrolled for an Indo-American Society program on Memory Efficiency ( more about that and what I never learnt in another piece, later, someday). This program included a deep breathing and relaxation exercise for 20 minutes ( another life long struggle and lesson not learnt). 

Over the years, yoga remained a habit I would keep returning to. Interruptions like frequent touring, two pregnancies, balancing work and time with children commonly meant dropping yoga for months at a stretch. Every time, I got back to my routine, though, I would stop to thank my parents for probably the best gift they gave me. 

Parallel, ran my experiments with meditation. Books on pranayam, Raja yoga (many brought back from the Institute) kept surfacing on my bed-side table and forefront of the bookshelf. At office, when our Chairman choose to follow Art of Living, we were nominated for a couple of programs and exposed to So-hum. Some of my colleagues claimed that they benefitted greatly from this practice. Later, at another Organization, the Chairman being a follower of. Grand Master Choa Kok Sui, we had Pranic healing sessions, with a similar relaxation routine. While, I could never get any of these techniques to work for me, I did encourage my daughter to go for a Pranic healing course (yes, I am a chip of the old block and do push the kids to experiment). Last week we compared notes and she was not very certain that the meditation routine is working for her.

Following our discussions, I had this feeling that some of you might be having a similar struggle. Assuming that all who know me, also believe that I am a fairly chilled-out person, I decided to share my stress- busting formula in this piece. A disclaimer, however, before I get down to that. This is not prescriptive and I know of colleagues and friends who have very effective ways of their own. A particular ex-colleague has his personal music room a beautifully done space with guitars and percussion instruments. He mentioned that on Sunday's he needed to quietly retire to his room and play his guitar and this hour of personal time helped him face Monday mornings.

The physical or what one calls Hatha yoga, has worked well for me. The required concentration of breathing in and breathing out and the simple number counting that accompanies this breathing, takes the mind away from distracting thoughts. I have found it much like relaxation and meditation exercises and definitely easier to practice. As starters, I would recommend sitting at one place and gently doing some neck exercises, while focussing on the breathing and number count (can share some more details on request)

Of course, close friends and sufferers at parties, know my other simple mantra. Sing full throated (don't worry that it's not good enough...like that Abba number) and break into a jig. The trick here is to be able to do that on the other side of fifty, without looking (and feeling) silly. Must confess,here, that I have a very patient family that chooses to look bemused and stay non judgmental when I do this on a Sunday morning in broad daylight!

Making the full circle back to colouring books, like all great gifts from my innovative friends Bappa & Nupur, my children and I will never forget the Great Dinosaur Colouring book. Format 18" x 12", to be spread on the floor and may be coloured by 3 persons (tried for one adult and two toddlers) at the same time. Greatly relaxing!

Managing Up

An ex-colleague, recently went missing from home, triggering a discussion on work stress and resultant depression. A little over a year back, he resigned and went back to his original employers. On his disappearance one learnt that he had not been going to work for a few months and was under treatment.

A member of the senior management team, I remember the teasing glint in his eyes and a pleasant half-smile, the first day I joined office, asking me whether one actually required "marketing" in cement. We sat in adjacent chambers and ever so often his booming hearty laugh would invariably beckon me across for a cup of coffee. As roles changed and he moved to Mumbai - I remembering lamenting the loss of a friend and sounding board.

As normally happens, given our busy schedules, we drifted apart. Once in a while, bumping into each other I gathered he was not happy with his new assignment. When he moved back to his erstwhile employers, one did sense peace with his decision. Then Boom! This news.

While depression is a complex subject and one would not like to jump to conclusions on what was the trigger in this particular case, work related stress is a growing reality. Fact remains that work tensions are not welcomed back home and many times the spouse is unable to add value or help in stress relief. In the case of this particular colleague, one is pushed to reflect that we are lending very little support to each other within the Organization. While there are supposedly structured off sites and intra Company engagements to facilitate bonding, honest conversations and friendly advice is hard to come by.

This places a dual responsibility on each of us to question our own leadership style and simultaneously handle the most important working relationship - that with the boss. I have heard colleagues' complaints of health, lack of well being and anxiety caused by bosses. Gallup surveys normally support that more than 50% of employees leave bosses and not Organizations.

Job changes, at senior levels, is fraught with risks. To have to do so, believing that one cannot manage the current situation (particularly relationship with the boss) is distressing for the Organization and the individual. The former, particularly because such changes breaks a leadership chain and sometimes risks continuity of business.

Managing up, sadly, is a skill that has not been institutionalised and taught to young officers working their way up the Organization or as a part of management school syllabi. I can only synthesise my own experience in suggesting an approach and probably contributing in a small measure to the future of further structured study on the subject. My solution lies around Work, Self & Communication.

The starting point is in providing comfort about the work that is being done. Even if you think your boss knows what's going on, update him on how you read the situation, new data you are processing, your progress and potential challenges. This firstly eases the tension caused by untimely questions from him and helps in putting both of you on the same page - great facilitator when there is actually a crisis.

It is equally important to manage your own negative emotions regarding the boss' behaviour. The ability to set aside personal ego and develop a strong business persona lies in reminding oneself that the boss is reacting to his own job related tensions and not to you as an individual. In managing yourself, you need to watch out for self defeating behaviour like stone walling or counter attacking.

Effort is required to create an environment that facilitates early discussions and problem resolution. The most important communication to have is the one about your career and growth. Many a time, at senior roles, this forms the basis of much mistrust and distress. The feeing that your boss is being threatened by your growing contribution or (as it necessarily gets narrow at the top) is not finding challenging assignments or growth opportunities for you. 

Finally, it makes a full circle to your own reality check as a boss. Are you repeating the same patterns in your relationships with your N-1 ? Are you being a rebel leader, challenging the boss ? Are you insisting on alignment within your team, even as you remain mis-aligned to his approach ? Are you picking up distress signals from your peers ? These, additionally impact your attitude and responses and can become the ultimate determinant to your peace of mind.

A Bird in the Sky

It is five in the afternoon and I am on another flight that has just taken off. Ten years back this would have been unthinkable. The children were young and travel meant taking the first flight out into a city, pushing yourself through the day and work done, hoping to catch the late night return.

The children have now grown up and (much as one would like to deny) the years have caught up with me. The family is more indulgent about me taking an afternoon flight out, a relaxed evening drink at a club in Mumbai or Delhi and thereafter a quiet meal ( in either of these cities you are spoilt for choice). 

As the seat belt signs are switched off the mind wanders back to at least two decades of hectic travel and flights one has lost count of. Some incidents stay and typically catch up with you on odd flights like this one. I feel a trip down memory lane in my bones and stop to capture the memories.

In the early nineties, choice was still limited to mainly the National carriers - good old Indian Airlines. They had these lovely planes plying between the major metros - the Airbus. At the centre were the four seaters and a very early or late flight was more or less empty. As soon as the seat belt signs went off, you pushed back the armrests, asked for a blanket and caught a neat snooze. As a regular you invariably had a matronly air hostess recognise and take care of you. In a sales job, you had the benefit of free ticket offers on their international flights to Thailand & Singapore (Malaysia onwards by road). The latter was a true incentive for the hubby and we took many memorable short breaks to the Far East.

Let alone empty flights, Kolkata or Calcutta (still CCU) did not not have very heavy crowds at the airport and relationships were easy to forge. Our good friend Raju Virmani at the bookstore could be counted upon to ensure you never missed a flight. No paranoia about gates closing 45 minutes before take-off or SMS reminders to reach the airport 2 hours prior to departure or face dire consequences. This last bit actually irks, especially when you are taking a 45 minutes flight to nearby Ranchi !

The era of private Airlines - Modiluft, Damania, Spanair, Sahara and the King(fisher) of good times - brought its share of excitement. From free drinks onboard to miniature cricket bats and fancy travel pouches, they wooed us with their freebies. On some we lost our hard earned mileage points (as a colleague puts it his much planned Europe tour with family). 

Amidst all this, you recall fellow travellers, some of whom have become friends or business associates over the years. One time it was a celebrity, sitting paranoid next to me and clutching her meditation beads during take-off and landing (despite, as she confessed with a wry smile having to take a flight every week).  Another time became a story-telling session for a nine year old, intrigued with the squiggles in Saint Exupery's The Little Prince and wanting to know what I was reading. A city entrepreneur, once whipped out sachet packs of Nivea cream (their Sole Selling Agent) in business class and I learnt you could ask for Tabasco sauce with your omelette. 

My singular experience, however, was a flight I took out of a city airport in the Western part of the country. I reached the airport, confident that my wait-listed position of one meant a certain confirmation. On being told it was a full flight I was standing around with a sense of loss when a very confident gentleman strode up to the counter, pulled out a wad of cash for his ticket and boarding pass. With quick presence of mind, I insisted that I be given preference over him. Both of us were asked to standby for further instructions. Much to my surprise, I found the flight was announced, passengers boarded and it took off. My new friend and I waited, even while the airport store shutters were brought down and obviously all flights were off for the day. A while later, we were ushered to an extremely small plane (11 seater or so). Three strangers (the pilot, the purser and this gentleman) and I boarded and we took off. I then learnt that the owner of the airlines had relocated from Nigeria. He owned a couple of planes for personal use but when licensing for private airlines opened up grabbed an opportunity to commercialise. The flight we had boarded had actually faced a technical snag, which was attended to at this local airport. However, fitness to fly certificate could only be issued at Mumbai Airport. So, here we were, taking a commercially unscheduled flight into Mumbai. On returning the following day to Kolkata, I realised that as an unlisted traveller, had anything gone wrong, I would have been lost without trace. At the airport, that evening, the only thought on my mind was - work over I had to go home to my six-weeks old son at the earliest.

The wonder is that no matter how many flights I take, the sight of dark hovering clouds beneath, with lightening flashes or the aerial view of city lights as you approach touchdown always makes my spirits soar. Every homecoming has a sense of anticipation, as though a new beginning. For now, I ready to switch off my electronic device and as the flight descends into Mumbai city, I weigh my options for dinner.

Cocooned

I saw a man
This morning
Head cocked to one side
Smiling
And staring, intently, at a lamp post

The thought
Came to my mind
Maybe,
It is good to be mad
Cocooned
In a world of your own
As if, permanently, glad