Shunu Sen, HLL and Road Number 3 HO.... ADIOS...

Soon, Levers will move lock stock and barrel to its new offices in the Mumbai suburbs.

And that will be the end of an era.

Back in 1985, we - 65 of us - began our Masters in Management Studies at Jamnalal Bajaj, situated on 'Road Number 3'. This address is so nameless. Situated in Backbay Reclamation, it sounded (still sounds) like some forgotten postscript of the city of Bombay. Like a garrison. Or a prison to house the goons of the city or something. (It does house the MLA hostel).

But then, we Bajajites had HLL directly opposite us on the other side of the road. We basked in the penumbra of its quiet glow. A steady stream of the most impeccable visiting faculty was assured. And made up for the fact that we were not IIM A, B or C... the three IIMs that existed, and the only other 'ranked' institutes.

We spent two years less than a stone's throw away, and yet rarely got to see the stalwarts that made up the top brass. In a city of 8 to 10 million (those days) it was easier to catch a sight of top film stars rather than the 'big guys' of Levers.

Later, during campus placement, two of our brightest batchies got into the company. And the image of the company shot up in campus. For one of the truths of MBA life is that batchies everywhere form impressions of a company basis its ability to recognize talent we KNOW in house.
And Nitin Paranjpe and Srila Chatterjee were our stars for sure.

Other companies were busy shooting themselves in the foot and committing both Type 1 and Type 2 blunders/ errors. Some real good guys of the batch did not get taken. Some duds of the batch did. So many companies have forever since, been scorned by the rest of us.

I had already opted to accept the job offer made to me by Lintas during summers, and this was to be the beginning of a career where my work has been intertwined with that of... well.... what do I call the company now... HUL? Sounds like some truncated Bhangra rap word. When i first heard it a couple of years ago at an MBA campus, for a moment I imagined an oil company, drilling in the sea, raking in the petrodollars.

It is not HLL any longer, the moniker treated with awe across generations of MBA students at the best institutes, as THE place to work in.
It was our Day-One company, in an era when placement began with the 'first' day and had not yet regressed to the newfangled policy of 'Day Zero' at the institutes.
(Typically Day Zero companies recently have been the I-Banks. Lehmann, Merrill Lynch, Deutsche Bank...Apt name, no?
Day 'ZERO' --- Shoonya. Nothing. Nought... )

Most of us prefer to (continue to ) call it Levers. And that thrill of walking into its conference rooms exists as ripples of feelings of a long while ago rookie entering its portals. Recently, I was at its HO for a workshop and had this out of body experience. For a moment, I was in my early 20s again, and the month was December, 1988.
Shunu Sen and my boss at Lintas, Pranesh Misra had sent me into the boondocks - go find out whatever you can about rural India. A brief made all the more formidable for its sheer laconic nature. Boldly go forth where no corporate (wo)man had gone before - and figure out the future...

And I came back with 'P: RuMark'.
Rural Markets.
A key finding : villagers everywhere purchased goods in 'chhataaks'... to suit their weekly purchase cycle, and the shopkeepers opened up the large sealed packs to sell it loose / piecemeal in these chhataaks.

Chhataak : A word from pre Independence times to mean a smaller quantity. Usually and loosely worked out to invariably cost one rupee. And packed in a piece of grubby newspaper. Detergent, daal, sugar, salt, tea, aur to aur, even soaps were cut up and sold in chhataaks.

Shunu, sitting at the head of the table loved it. He began to envision the future of many Lever brands as pouch packs. In one rupee formats. Chhataak packs.

Sachets was not yet a word in our FMCG dictionary. Back then...

And rarely have I felt so GOOD in my 22 years career, as at his words of praise...

Shunu had a back problem (he was not yet on his wheelchair) and back then he would talk to folks sitting both sides of the long conference table without eye contact with them, looking only straight ahead. As the presenter, I was at the other end of the long table, and over the next few years got used to the unnerving experience of Shunu speaking to other individuals via eye contact with me alone.

What sheer joy to listen to him talk of the future of various brands, to his core lietenants of those days. Sharp, holistic, marketing knowledge of the highest order.. all 'spoken' as if to me :-).

And that was another amazing quality about him. His hands on, always keen on participating in consumer findings, frame of mind. As far back as I can recall, he ALWAYS made it a point to attend quali research presentations. Research results across Lifebuoy, Surf, Pears, Fair & Lovely, Paras Fertilisers, Sunlight detergent, Close Up... it was his way of staying in touch with his core target, his ear to the ground. Perhaps, those were simpler times. Fewer brands.

But hey, there was far more of an aura. And the adrenalin rush of being in the presence of a person who I saw as the Ultimate Brains. One who others have called Guru, and who could ask the most unexpected of questions. Catching the presenter off-guard.

Today I see young capable managers rushing around in Levers. Brands are the same. The semiotics have changed. And like on this day recently, I seek that distant twinkling alive presence. So essential to the essence of HLL.

HLL to HUL. Road Number 3 HO will soon morph into the new HO off distant WE Highway.

Nitin Paranjpe, classmate, today is the youngest CEO this company HUL/ HLL has seen in its 75 year history.

Srila Chatterjee, who quit HLL ages ago, is one of the finest, most respected film producers that the advertising world - and Indian film world too - has seen. Her creative instincts are for all to see in Blue Frog as well, that amazing live music watering hole, recently rated at par with Madison Square Garden, by The Independent, London.

Shunu Sen passed away in 2003.

Forever leaving a vacuum.

And I regret this. That I never did tell Shunu. How much gyan seeped in, into the akkal in his presence, what this has meant to me.

Perhaps that is how it was to be. For sure, he would have had a cutting yet kind retort. Something unexpected. And funny. ('Don't call me a Guru. Gurus don't have sex')
In a world suffering from SOHF - Sense of Humour Failure, Shunu Sen's day to day life was the stuff that today's corporate legends are made of.

Vijaya Bank is better than Harpic. Truly.

Badal, my very young & happening web designer says this is easy. This blogging. Thousands and millions of people all over the world do it, he reminds me. ‘So just do it’ he says encouragingly, sounding a lot like the swimming coach who tried to get me to dive once upon a time, with almost the same words.

The predominantly young Indian populace of 540 million, age 24 or less, include all these net savvy youngsters fed and weaned on blogging, in this galloping and globalizing country, growing at 9.4% p.a.. But for old fogies on the other side of the age 25 fence (pretty far from the fence too)… you know the rest.

A beginner has essential rights. One of them is to behave as a beginner. E.g. finding excuses not to do it. I need to find time from allocating and overseeing work, doing my studies, various home tasks, what with the Indian system of being part of a household consisting of the bai, the mali, the driver apart from the residents.

This morning, my bai said ‘Didi, Harpic theek hai, lekin it is Vijaya Bank that cleans the loo best. I have been asking you to get it for such a long time.’ She insists that is the name, and it sounds potentially ominous, in relation to soon to be less clean loos in the home.

I did go across to Haiko the local supermarket, and quietly searched for Vijaya Bank, in the soaps, detergents and home care aisle. When I tell her there is no such brand, she is indignant.

‘Of course, there is. I bought it myself the other day, from the corner Reliance Stores. For the other home I work in’.

Somehow, it was easier to go to the newfangled self-help retail supermarkets such as Haiko to look for a 'bank'. No one would be looking over my shoulder at my purchases, but to go and actually ask to buy it, in a mom and pop joint that we call the baniye ka dukaan, well…

A chore is a chore, and loos need to stay clean.

I go to the tried and tested Reliance Stores, where Girdharbhai was presiding as usual. ‘Do you have Vijaya Bank?’ I ask nonchalantly in my best I-always- ask- for – Vijaya- Bank inside- a – bania- dukan voice.

Girdharbhai did not bat an eyelid. ‘For washing the toilet, hai na? Sure, I have it. I’ve heard it’s quite good’ he says empathically. Like a good bania shop owner, he has an opinion on most matters related to the home.

Wow! So, yes, I’ve now got Vijaya Bank home. And yes, it seems quite good for its intended role in life.

And yes, I recommend it whole-heartedly. Go ask for it.

It’s just spelt a wee bit differently. It’s Easy Off. Bang. So there is a brand called Easy Off Bang. I am hoping saying it a few times will make it fall off the tongue smoothly. . Apparently some companies do not believe in keeping us market research agencies in business with nomenclature research and all that stuff. Or perhaps they did research this name, who knows. Everyone but me had heard of it. And then, when both Harpic and 'Vijaya Bank' belong to the same company, it does not really matter either way, does it?

And come to think of it, I would rather ask for Vijaya Bank, than Easy Off Bang next time to Girdharbhai. When both sound like some heist I’m participating in, a bank is the more sober version of the two. Easy Off, Bang de do versus Vijaya Bank le aao.

In the era of blogs and chatting, and scrapping, what’s in a name anyway? If Kewl can be cool, and my can be mah, why not Vijaya Bank expand its monetary role in life. Phonetic spelling is the key to the future..

Last word: Let’s hope my blogging experience turns out to be more successful than the diving one ever was.

Piyul