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Matchday:
An event when the men in blue walk out to defend the
pride of the nation. However, the effects on the economy
are far less inspiring for this is an occasion where
the balance working class finds a minefield of avenues
to discover more "legitimate" reasons to
indulge in our favourite corporate sport - the art
of hurdling deadlines.
"Today
is the day of the match, deadlines you will find extremely
hard to catch."
The
hushed oriental tone, the express delivery of the
tea cup in Ram's hand and the disappearance of Chai-La
(the mystical Chinese canteen boy) along the seam
of the cricket ball on the conference room table and
the ensuing turbulence that caused a slight "in
swing" of sorts set the ball in motion. Vikas,
as always, being one to pride himself on "being
on the ball," grabbed it with alacrity, and gently
thumped it on the table diverting all eyes in the
room his way.
"What
were you saying Dharti?" he enquired of the strategic
planning head of the agency, a woman whose intellectual
and aesthetic content demanded undivided attention
in most cases.
Dharti,
who usually indulged Vikas's charm (for some strange
reason), was clearly a little strained. Her beautiful
eyes radiated an anger that Ram found quite mesmerising.
"What
does it matter? I have been repeating myself hoarse
over the last thirty minutes, and I might as well
have been talking about Vedic virtues to men wandering
in a strip joint. Where are your minds? We are gathered
here to create a crises ad for Mr Bose's new product
launch tomorrow and all you men seem to be in a different
galaxy. Really, Mr Bose, I am surprised at your lack
of interest as well."
Mr
Bose seemed oblivious of the allegations thrown his
way. His eyes were transfixed elsewhere, as were Vikas'
and PP's (the creative director of the outrageous
moustache fame). Even the normally erudite Planimus
(the gladiatorial media planning head) was replicating
the involvement pattern of a three-year old child
learning the alphabet in class when there is an ice
cream vendor displaying his fares outside the window.
Then,
as most males would testify, sometimes reflex just
takes over and in one such "reflexive" moment,
for reasons most of those blessed with the Y chromosome
can never quite articulate, Ram picked up the remote
lying near him and switched on the TV.
Immediately,
the men in the room uttered a grunt of such frenetic
ecstasy that companies that made products in the area
of sexual gratification instantly perked up their
ears.
"Today,
Dada will show them," began Mr Bose.
"Yeah,
but we need to keep tabs on the run rate at all times,"
boomed PP, twirling his whiskers upwards in a moment
of national pride.
"And
we need a good opening stand," started Planimus.
"You
know we have won 75 per cent of the time against this
opposition when we bat first, and of that percentage
nearly 90 per cent comes when we defend under lights."
That
was Vikas, espousing statistics in a manner which
was quite unlike him and made him look like a completely
different person, though Ram more readily attributed
that to the ridiculous haircut that his boss had just
undergone a few days earlier.
Dharti
grabbed the remote and shot a reprimanding look in
Ram's direction that made his heart sink to the abysmal
depths of the intellectual content of a typical coffee
chat show.
"You
can't remember there is a launch tomorrow and yet
you can rattle off inconsequential numbers that have
no relevance to your life whatsoever," she began,
in a rare case of taking off on Vikas.
Vikas
shot back an extremely pained look her way, like a
puppy that was being told off for chasing his favourite
bone (ok any bone).
"No,
no, he has said something that is really important,"
interjected PP, to the astonishment of everyone in
the room, even the trophy statues that were turned
to look his way, because this was a rare event.
PP
supported Vikas about as frequently as top stars accepting
their trophies in Bollywood award functions rendered
their thanksgiving speeches in Hindi.
"What?"
began a stunned Dharti, echoing everyone's feelings,
when something happened on the TV screen that caused
the room to erupt in a passionate frenzy.
"That
was a bad decision."
"This
entire series is fixed."
"This
is all a part of their mind game strategy, everyone
is involved. But if we rebuild, there is still time
to turn the match."
Women
are gifted with immense clarity at all such moments.
Being a top specimen of her representative species
(from the male perspective), Dharti turned off the
TV at that instant.
(The expletives that followed have been censored by
the editor.)
"When
the match takes a critical turn, all will recede in
importance, you will learn."
The
cup of tea with the wise conundrum again were transported
Ram's way, courtesy Chai-La, even as he 'disnumbered'
into the statistics chart of the next batsmen coming
in, for Vikas had aggressively pulled back the remote
and switched on the TV again.
"We
need to probably borrow a few ideas from watching
the match. Maybe, there will be a spark which will
happen as we watch India combat a difficult position."
"What
if they fail?" asked Dharti with clinical clarity.
"Then
we simply can't think today," shot PP with such
emphasis that the batsman on the screen actually left
the next ball alone.
"Mr
Bose, what do you think of the situation?" asked
Dharti in an increasingly incredulous tone.
Mr
Bose's eyes were watching the TV screen with unwavering
focus. "It's too tight to call right now, maybe
if we see off the next five overs."
Dharti
planted herself in front of the TV screen, as a roar
of dissent went across the room.
"Mr
Bose, I was asking what your opinion was given that
your launch is tomorrow and that your agency team
needs to concentrate on the match for inspiration."
Mr
Bose jockeyed for position, squirming in his chair
so that he could see beyond Dharti, given his size
it was a bit like watching a hippopotamus try the
lambada.
"Ah!"
he began and then someone hit a boundary.
All
the men in the room exchanged high fives and bonded
like they had been life-long friends who had just
simultaneously won the state lottery.
"You
never bowl to him there, 73 per cent of the time he
will flash and flash safely. And when he swings his
bat, he usually makes contact 82 per cent of the time,
so it's a near sure boundary," commented Vikas
with mathematical magnanimity.
PP
and Planimus shot looks of brotherly affection his
way (I repeat, PP and Planimus). Even Mr Bose acknowledged
his expertise with an indulgent grunt.
Dharti
tried to call the house to order throwing her own
statistic into the mix.
"If
we continue like this we are 100 per cent likely to
miss the deadline."
That
brought a few murmurs amongst the men. They huddled
together and whispered words like secret passwords.
PP rose from the huddle. "It is decided. We four
will work in here and use the match as a springboard
for ideation whereas you and Ram can work in the other
conference room. Just look at all the past work and
you can conceptualise a few ads; it should be simple
really."
"And
what if nothing we create is good enough or rings
true with the consumer, or is relevant to the current
situation?" enquired a feisty Dharti.
"Then…,"
began Vikas.
"Then
we will postpone the launch," ended Mr Bose without
taking his eyes off the TV screen. "Now let's
begin work, we need to watch this next over very closely."
Dharti
stormed out of the room like a departing hurricane
(yeah they are all named after women, aren't they?)
"I
am not going to lift another finger on this project.
Just send the underling to me with what he has conjured
up, any case I know we will be working on it tomorrow."
Vikas
made a trademark gesture with his eyes which Ram so
hated. It said "time to step out and work";
all the others merely waved sympathetic hands in his
direction. Any guy leaving the room with the match
interestingly poised deserved sympathy.
As
he left the room, he could hear liberal advice being
dispensed the batsmen's way. "Play with a little
more responsibility, you fool" was one such volley."
Ram
smiled to himself as he entered the adjoining conference
room and began pulling out old ads from the archives.
"Don't expect tea easily today because I want
to see the match will go which way."
For
once the tea cup was empty and Ram watched forlornly
as Chai-La disappeared through the key hole into the
conference room with the TV.
 The
writer is an idependent strategic & ideation consultant.
He is also the patron saint of Juhu Beach United,
a football club that celebrates the "unfit, out
of breath media professional of today." You can
write to him at (vinaykanchan@hotmail.com).
(The
views expressed here are those of the author and Indiantelevision.com
need not necessarily subscribe to the same)
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