by Ajeet Sharma
The campaign was simple. All forty-four promo centres would maintain a desired stock level of the three drinks, available only in 400 ml PET bottles, priced at fifteen rupees each. It was a campaign for all three flavours—another anomaly the sales team had scoffed about. Karan told them, ‘Increase the volume and we’ll have a dedicated campaign for each.’ His instruction was, ‘When a customer comes to a promo centre with a used tumbler asking for whichever Yodel drink, the retailer will collect the tumbler and sell a 400 ml bottle for one rupee. You ensure that happens.’
It was the second day of the promo. Karan called the area sales manager of North Delhi. ‘What’s the situation?’ he enquired like a commander of a battlefield.
‘No response so far, Karan,’ said the ASM. ‘I’ve been monitoring the outlets. Not one promo sale.’
‘What do you think is the reason?’
‘Too early to say anything as the ad just came out yesterday. We haven’t left a single market in the distribution of posters and are in touch with all the promo centres. We don’t want the retailers to feel they are in business with … with …’
‘Losers, huh?’
‘Uh, no. I mean, they shouldn’t feel they are in business with a young player.’
Karan chortled. The smart manager had a way with words. ‘All right, Arun. Keep poking me.’
‘Sure, I will. Thanks for calling.’
After checking with the other four ASMs, who gave him similar feedback, Karan got up and strode to Rishi’s cabin. ‘We will have to get the ad placed many times,’ he said.
‘What’s the latest?’ Rishi looked up from an excel sheet on the Southern Ridge Home, which a junior accountant was discussing with him. The accountant, in the past week, had inspected various books of account at the Home.
‘Zero at present. Had a talk with the ASMs,’ replied Karan. Sitting down on a chair, he unbuttoned and folded his sleeves as though he were feeling warm.
Rishi leaned back. ‘It’s only the second day. But I agree. You’ll have to get the ad placed at least twice a week till the promo lasts, though I think posters at the outlets will work faster.’ The posters, pasted outside the outlets, carried the same advertisement as that in Delhi Times.
‘Two thousand posters, in a market of ten thousand potential outlets, have been—’ Karan’s phone rang. ‘Yes, Preet Mohan,’ he said, receiving the call.
It was the ASM of South Delhi. He sounded ecstatic. ‘I am at Rajdhani Store in Yusuf Sarai market. Our first promo sale has happened.’ It was a high-revenue outlet in South Delhi.
‘Excellent, Preet! What kind of tumbler you got?’
‘It’s a Festi tumbler.’
Karan punched the air. ‘Who was the buyer?’
‘A young boy. He bought our cola.’
‘How are other centres doing?’
‘I’m going for my second round. Will call you in the evening.’
‘Tell your boys to man all the centres daily, morning to closing.’
‘They are doing just that.’
‘Call me for more, any time of the day or night.’
‘Sure thing. Bye.’
‘Congrats, buddy!’ said Rishi, as Karan ended the call.
‘First promo sale in Yusuf Sarai,’ said Karan. ‘It’ll take some time to crack, but eventually, it will happen.’ He squinted at the excel sheet. ‘What’s up on the Home front? How is it going, Tarun?’ He patted the young accountant on the back.
‘I’ll talk about it in the evening,’ said Rishi. ‘I also need to consult you on a few things.’
‘Fine.’ Karan got up and dashed out of the cabin as though he heard a fire alarm around the office.
Late in the evening, Rishi presented Tarun’s inspection report to Karan. The books of account were satisfactory. There were allocations for provision, grocery, furniture, furnishings, clothing, and electricity, among other things. The entire amount of Manwani’s charity was spent on the welfare of the inmates. There did not seem to be any misappropriation of funds, though, Rishi was concerned that Fotedar paid paltry wages to the inmates. ‘Otherwise, things are quite satisfactory there,’ said Rishi and drank from his coffee mug.
‘You mean the funds have been utilised according to the agreement signed between Manwani and Fotedar?’
‘There was no agreement signed ever.’
‘Great. What’s next?’
‘Karan, I want to visit the Home again.’
‘More inspection?’
‘Umm … I don’t think things are okay there.’
‘You said things were satisfactory.’
‘I mean … the inmates. I feel they are not happy there. One can sense fright in their mannerisms. The way they look at a visitor …'
‘Rishi, those women have lost their families. Can they ever be normal?’
‘That’s what the estate manager told me when I heard a woman scream in the hostel the first time I visited the place.’
‘You heard a woman scream?’
‘Yeah, as if someone was hitting her.’
‘Then what did you do?’
‘What could I do? Seemingly, the manager didn’t want me to get involved and I too was in a hurry as I had a meeting with Manwani.’
A long wall clock in the shape of a Yodel bottle, with the brand name written on its dial, struck nine. As usual, they were late to leave for the day.
‘If you want to take this up, go ahead and do the needful,’ said Karan.
‘You don’t agree with me on this, do you?’
‘On what?’
‘That we should go beyond this.’
‘And do what?’
‘Philanthropy in the real sense.’
The words brought the honour-killing campaign back to Karan’s mind. He was glad to note that Rishi felt much the same way about philanthropy as he did. It shouldn’t be only about donating to build a socially responsible image of yourself, thought Karan. It should be about ensuring that the social initiatives made a difference somewhere. ‘Go ahead, Rishi. I am with you.’
‘Thanks. Can Ira accompany me as a colleague?’
‘Wanna impress her with our ethics?’
‘A female colleague can investigate better there, since it’s a women’s home. And by the way, I’ve crossed the stage of trying to impress her, Karan.’
‘Yeah sure, take her along. And with women, Rishi, you never cross that stage.’
20
Mumbai.
‘I think it’s over,’ said Vidu Nandi, sitting on a rock on the Bandstand Beach.
Baruni gazed at the waves hitting the rocks. ‘You haven’t lost it yet.’
Earlier, Anantha Swamy had phoned Baruni and informed her about how Kabir reacted when Shinde mentioned the endorsement proposal.
‘My mistake, Vidu. I completely forgot that he stopped signing such contracts after his Festi contract fell through. You know what he did at a shoot last year, after he was out of jail?’
‘What?’
‘The location was in Ooty. He ordered a case of Festi Cola and treated it with his golden shower.’ Her eyes showed revulsion.
‘In front of everyone?’ Vidu was astonished.
‘In front of everyone. The members of the crew, including the director, cheered as he did his business.’
‘How do you know?’
‘One of the crew members who witnessed that is my friend.’
‘And you’re telling me now?’ Vidu got up and reached into the pocket of his Bermudas for his cigarettes.
‘I told you. I forgot.’
‘Easy for you to say that.’
‘But Karan must have always known about Kabir’s stance on endorsement,’ she reasoned.
‘Only I didn’t know. I’m confused why the hell he wants Kabir as ambassador when he knows his stance on endorsement.’ Vidu lit his cigarette.
‘I asked him the same question when he called this morning.’
‘What did he say? He’s one storyteller.’
‘He said that was
the reason he wanted him.
Vidu dropped his head. ‘I can never understand this man. Do you know he was a brand manager at Festi when the company terminated the contract with Kabir?’ He took a drag on his cigarette.
‘Karan’s asked me if I could try again,’ said Baruni.
‘He has asked me also to try again and put across certain things to the actor.’ Vidu grimaced as the wind blew through his ponytail. ‘God knows how the star will react.’
They were silent for some time.
‘What’re you thinking?’ She stood up.
‘Which flight to catch and when.’
‘You serious?’
‘I’m damn serious. Give me one reason I shouldn’t go back tonight itself,’ he argued. ‘But thanks, Baruni. You helped.’
‘Here comes the parting speech.’ She looked away.
‘I can stay here and wait for the whole month for miracles to happen. But understand my problem. I need to go back and work on a fresh strategy.’
‘Stay back for one more week and I guarantee something will happen.’
‘How? We couldn’t fix a meeting with him.’
‘Now we’re wiser, Vidu.’
‘Forget it.’
‘We’ll approach him again and—’
‘And have ourselves showered on too.’
‘At least listen to me. We’ll approach him with a different objective. I’ll introduce you to him as an old friend who happens to be his fan.’
‘But now he knows we tried to meet him with a proposal.’
‘You leave that to me. If I know him well, my plan will work.’
‘Forget it. Not a good idea, it is.’
‘Don’t be afraid. He loves his fans and is a totally different person around them.’
‘Yeah, but he’ll rupture every nerve of this fan when he learns it’s all about endorsement again, that too, of a beverage brand, which is marketed by someone who was once a brand manager at Festi. Thanks, Baruni, but I think I should fly back to Delhi.’
‘He won’t react this time. Not if you go by my plan.’
Vidu didn’t respond. He only smoked facing the sea and thought the waves were laughing at him.
21
Delhi.
As was anticipated by Paresh Menon, three months after the business summit, Jaggi Balraj gave Leena Goswami an attractive job offer. Paresh ensured that she accepted it. He wanted information about the takeover at any cost.
Within a month of accepting the offer, she put in her papers at the Mayford Ritz Hotel and joined Balraj Infrastructure. Balraj never understood what job titles meant and appointed her as the vice president of Marketing, a title heavy for her six years in the industry. She now reported to a man who had once molested her.
The summit could not change the financial status of Mayford Ritz and Shigeru Yamazaki’s anxiety only increased as time passed. On the other hand, Balraj was certain that soon he would achieve what he wanted: the approval of the directors on the Mayford board for his takeover bid.
Shigeru was annoyed that Paresh Menon had not been able to find out much about Balraj’s plan. The only way Paresh could survive in the hotel now was by passing on such information to Shigeru and being of some help in stopping the builder in his attempts.
On her way back home from Balraj Tower, Leena would often drop in at Paresh’s newly-purchased apartment in Rohini, Delhi and apprise him of the developments on her secret mission. Her task was dangerous and she dreaded Balraj getting a hint of it. If he ever found out, she was sure he would have her slain before she lit her next cigarette. There were times when she felt like quitting, but she was also aware that no other organisation would offer her such a position and salary. After all, the money factor overruled everything else.
This evening too, Leena decided to visit Paresh. Steering her new Skoda Rapid through the entrance gate of a mini-township, she parked near a fifteen-floor building, strode into it, and took an elevator to the fifth floor. It was fifteen past ten and Paresh eagerly waited for her.
‘Hey, babe. How was the day?’ He hugged her and led her into his secret apartment, which even his wife never knew about.
In a black suit and white shirt underneath, she looked as stunning as ever despite the stress showing on her face.
‘Dangerous as always,’ she replied, untying her hair and running a hand through it.
‘C’mon. You’re doing fine.’ They sat in his drawing room that had a small grove of bonsai trees at its far end. Paresh fixed a mild Dewar’s for himself and an Absolut with orange juice for his guest, and placed a tray containing an assortment of dry fruits. ‘Wanna have some kebab rolls? You must be hungry.’
‘No thanks.’ Leena unzipped her Jimmy Choo bag and drew out a pack of Milds.
‘Tired?’
‘Thanks to you. Twenty-four hours I am snooping around like a double agent. You have any idea what Balraj is going to do if he finds out?’ she complained about her task, as usual.
‘Play safe and never forget I’m with you.’ He picked up his drink. ‘Any development?’
‘Balraj is going to meet your four men again. This time in Goa, first week of March.’ She stuck a cigarette between her full lips and lit it. Paresh ran to open the windows.
Over the months, Leena was able to establish that at least four directors on the Mayford board were conniving with Balraj to vote for his buyout offer to the hotel. They were Surendra Pal Singh, Manoj Sarraf, Rustom Patel, and T.C. Virani. Surendra Pal was the one who was mobilising the other three to vote in favour of Balraj’s takeover.
‘What’s his agenda in Goa?’
‘How do I know? Balraj won’t tell me about his moves unless I sleep with him.’ Paresh looked away pursing his lips. ‘You get this straight, Paresh. The only way I can get info for you is by spying on him, and this is the thousandth time I’m telling you.’
Snubbed, he was quiet for a while. She is not getting solid results, he thought. Shigeru was dying for information and Paresh was unable to figure out how he could be of value to him concerning that. She’ll have to take bigger risks. ‘Why don’t you fly down to Goa too?’ he asked.
‘Excuse me?’
‘You may get lucky. They’re possibly going to discuss their entire plan there.’
‘And who’ll bring my dead body back? You coming along?’
‘You don’t have to give the slightest hint to Balraj or anyone at your office about that. Go on medical leave, travel to Goa at Mayford’s expense, and find out what the rats are up to.’
‘I can’t shadow them like that, Paresh. I … I haven’t done these things—ever.’ Leena went tearful.
‘The truth is that nobody else can do these things better. Besides, the bandit has the hots for you. Can he ever harm you? Nah … So, chikita, turn the tear tap off and get packing for the beaches.’
22
Ten days after the launch of his sales promo, Karan Jaani had an early morning meeting with all the ASMs at their office in Saket. The managers were ebullient. So far, more than a thousand bottles of Yodel were sold for one rupee, 87 per cent of which were at the deposit of Festi’s tumblers.
Karan went through the status reports and assessed the situation. Freedom had already collected around 25 per cent of the expected number of Festi’s tumblers. There was hope. ‘Good going! You have set the ball spinning,’ he said to the managers. ‘Festi’s promo ends on March 31. Should we extend ours beyond the date?’
Vijay Dixit, the ASM of East Delhi, a thirty-year-old man with hollow cheeks and sly looks, said, ‘I don’t think it’s a good idea, Karan. As soon as Festi’s promo ends, the ready supply of tumblers for us will stop too. No point extending the closing date.’
All sales managers agreed to that. Karan was glad they got the objective of the campaign right—to exploit Festi’s promo to Freedom’s advantage and stir the distribution channel in Yodel’s favour.
Preet Mohan Singh, the ASM of South Delhi, was a sturdy Sikh and a winner in the mar
ket. It was his area where the campaign was going most successful. ‘Yesterday, when I was monitoring an outlet in Sarojini Nagar,’ he said, ‘a twelve-year-old girl bought a 500 ml PET of Festi Cola, uncapped it, and scratched out the seal at the bottom of its cap to check if the cricketer’s name was embossed there. She was lucky and the shopkeeper presented to his overjoyed customer her prize—a bright pink tumbler.’ The other ASMs smiled and nodded. ‘And here’s the twist,’ said Preet Mohan. ‘At once, this girl slid the tumbler back to the shopkeeper across the counter, slammed a one-rupee coin, and demanded a Yodel Orange.’
Everyone clapped and cheered.
‘I am happy about how things are going,’ said Karan. ‘Let’s invigorate the market so much that every outlet in the city begins to see the promise in Yodel that we see. You are extraordinary men with an extraordinary task. There is no glory in losing hope and quitting. This is your chance to test your abilities, as often we discover ourselves in hard times. This is your chance to discover that you, so far unknown to you. I am sure you will build a market for us to proudly walk into with our heads held high.’ Karan rose from his seat. ‘May the undying spirit win!’ he said and stormed out of the room, leaving behind a team that would start its day with renewed vigour.
Thirteen kilometres away from Freedom’s office, in an upscale glass cabin on the fourth floor of the Festi Tower—the headquarters of Festi Beverages in Gurgaon—Ramesh Choksi was a distressed man.
Festi Beverages was an Indian subsidiary of an American company, Festi Beverages Inc. The company arrived on the Indian terrain in 1987. Its global competitor, Crown Cola Inc., too entered India around the same time. As in the other parts of the world, in India too, the two giants became warring organisations, their spoofing campaigns adding to their global rivalry; however, they took the lampoonery as good fun. There were times when one would sue the other—a consequence of going overboard with banters.
When they entered India, their advertisements came as rain on dry ground for the Indian ad industry, which, until then, had been devoid of fresh ideas. Their brazen ways became benchmarks and it was then that the importance of creativity began to sink in among advertisers. Brand managers realised they must give independence to ad makers so that they could create and launch market-stirring campaigns.