Mrs Tara Sinha – down the memory lane

“If you have made these mistakes working under Mrs Sinha ..” My boss kept his dialogue unfinished but the expression in his eyes gave ample indications of the dire consequences. The year was 1984; I was working in a small Calcutta based advertising agency. I did not know much about Mrs Sinha except for the fact that she steered iconic ad agencies. In other words she was too big and too distant for me to be bothered about her .Little did I know that within a couple of years I would be joining Tara Sinha Associates as she would be opening a branch of her outfit  in Calcutta.

 A young energetic gentleman Tapas Gupta (TG) the manager of her new branch handed me the appointment letter and asked me to report sharp at 9 in the morning at Mrs Sinha’s flat at Judges’ Court where the agency had started its operations while the makeshift office at Sudder Street was being readied. In my enthusiasm I had reached early. The attendant opened the door and led me to a spacious, tastefully decorated drawing room. “Mrs Sinha” I asked hesitantly Yes I am Tara Sinha , a tall fair dignified lady in her fifties draped in a tarquaz blue shiffon sadi  entered the room .I introduced myself shook her hand and then said a little apologetically I am afraid I am a little early . She smiled and said that’s a good habit. Please sit down : if you want some tea/ coffee he will serve you. You must excuse me , I am in the midst of some work, she disappeared behind the curtains to an adjacent room. By that time I had heard many awe inspiring stories about her; but whatever I had heard and what saw did not really match. But picture aabhi bbaki hain.

The agency moved from Saddar street to Collin lane in next three months and started running full steam; pitching for accounts, preparing creative briefs & campaigns, designing research , working out media plans . She used to be in Calcutta almost every alternate week. And nothing eluded her scrutiny be it a soggy soap in the soap case, unclean cups in kitchen, cluttered layout , clumsy copy, shoddy scripts ,vague presentations or faulty media plans. How many times she had shot down campaigns which had already been approved by clients. In house presentations to her were far more challenging than actual ones to the clients. There used to be hushed conversations in the corridors how long she is staying this time?

She liked young intelligent people but more than that she liked people with a point of view even if they were not very presentable. She hated being fed. I have seen her stopping smart research people when they would start with a flourish let me present / explain. She would say calmy “You don’t have to present . Give me the report I can read”. Creative directors standing with piles of layouts were often told to spread the campaign before her rather than being presented. Almost impatiently she would say “Show me everything, I know the brief, don’t waste time”. She would often look at the spread with a childlike curiosity and wonder, pushing aside layouts and grabbing campaigns she liked and then breaking into a smile , her eyes would lit up “I like this”. Now she was ready to listen to your point of view often changing her mind about campaigns she did not accept at first sight with a bit of tweaking here and there.

Agency had all the kinds of senior people – some were workhorses, some mind bright some again are sycophants. The last ones would keep tracks of all her social activities and the events she had attended. These would form the crust of their conversation with her. Very often the conversation would go like this –“Mrs Sinha I loved the way you refuted the logic of the opponent in that debate….your such and such article was real eye opener”….and so on. She would listen and would nod and smile; sometimes she would abruptly start conversation with someone else on an urgent basis. At times there was a tinge of shararat (mischief) with which she would tackle these people.  There was this Account Director (AD) whose reason for existence in the agency was his strong personal equation with an important client. Immaculately dressed he would light his Classic filter and would start talking about some TV talk of hers on branding a couple of weeks back. Mrs Sinha nodding at what he was saying would abruptly interrupt “so you liked my talk on branding; did you share it with your team”? Not prepared for the question the AD would hurriedly add “No Mrs. Sinha , I mean yes , I have jotted down some points and would share it with my team soon.” “Good, good, do that” she would say and then add “since you had watched the programme tell me   was I wearing my specs or lens in the programme, can’t remember clearly. The AD hurriedly replied “Specs Mrs Sinha, not lens”. She nodded again. A client had come; she broke away from the group to meet him. Before moving she turned around and say “By the way, I now remember, I was wearing my lenses. Anyway please send me a copy of the presentation you were going to share with your team”. Did I see a trace of suppressed smile on her lips?

TSA( Tara Sinha Associates) opened its branch in Kathmandu and I was the resident supervisor reporting to Calcutta branch head TG. Company hired a two storied building. My office was on the ground floor. On the first floor I stayed with my wife in one wing. On the other wing there was a huge hall with attached balcony and a separate washroom. This used to serve as the telltale guest house where TG and my Calcutta colleagues used to put up on their occasional visits to save hotel costs. The entire office consisted of me, my man Friday Balkishen and my doggy Blakie .A part time secretary would type out bills, reports and letters on a second hand Facit type writer machine, the only asset of the branch apart from  a small refrigerator in the kitchen and a black and white 14 inch TV in my bed room. We used to outsource local agencies for release of ads and minor adaptations of artwork in local languages. The creative hub was in Calcutta.

Mrs Sinha wanted to visit this outfit with TG. I was bracing myself up for the encounter. Updating guard books, video tapes consisting of local ads, branch accounts .Two days before her visit TG called me to break the news that he was not coming. She would visit alone and would stay in my guest house. Oh god why me? I soon regained my composure and firmly opposed her idea of staying in that guest house. No way. I booked a suite for her in the Everest Intercontinental. TG philosophically said “Your chairman, your branch, your decision, deal with it . I will inform her changed booking plans”. I asked Balkishen to buy a fresh set of linens, towels and wash room accessories, decorate the room with potted plants. My wife Rina assured me she would supervise and would also cook a couple of dishes if she really insisted on staying here.  I hired a Mercedes for her and rushed to the airport. The flight landed in the evening at the Tribhuban International Airport.

“Welcome to Kathmandu Mrs Sinha”  I greeted her as she came out of the immigration room , she smiled and said “I believe you don’t want me to stay with you ?” Aaj Mar gaya!( I am dead today ).I put up my bravest front and replied “ Yes I don’t want my chairman to stay in that guest house although it has been reluctantly readied. A string of meetings have been lined up for you including a guest lecture at AAN( Advertising Association of Nepal) . Local press can cover you. It’s a small place and everybody knows about everybody here. “I had said whatever I had to and was now ready to face the consequences. Surprisingly nothing had happened. She smiled, a rather tired smile, said I appreciate your sentiment. Today I am very tired and will check in at Everest. No, you need not come with me to hotel I can do that” said she as she appreciatively looked at the Marc and smiled again, this time with joy “Rather fancy car !” She got inside and told me” Pick me up tomorrow at nine, I will come to your office, attend your meetings and would stay at the guest house at night. Driver chalo(move).”

After a quick look at the financial figures and some routine comments on outstanding payments she started going through creative works and competitive guard books. I had hired a TV and VCR to run the compilation of local TVcs, specially of STC(Surya Tobacco Company) an ITC collaborated Nepalese cigarette giant . She meticulously went through everything including a small dip stick study that I had conducted on the proposal of a low end cigarette brand for STC. Now she wanted to see the TV commercials. I put the VHS cassette in the VCR. The TV screen showed no input . I tried three four times, perspiration build up on my forehead. This was not the first time that gadgets betrayed me. I remember it was an agency credential presentation at  Exide Battery  conference  room. All the slides have been put in the carousel projector tray , agency show reel was put into VCR – a trial run went off smoothly . Mrs Sinha entered the room and asked “Everything fine?” I nodded. Then the hell broke loose. The cassette got stuck in the VCR, the carousel started spitting out slides, and whole team ran around the room to catch the flying slides. TG rushed to me whispered “Call up the vendor and ask him to send another set of equipment immediately, go go go” . Was there any time left? Would the vendor have a spare set and most importantly would I have my job intact at the end of the day?

“Don’t be so depressed, let me help you” , Mrs Sinha’s voice brought me back to the present . Before I could say anything she sat on the parquet floor checking out the plug of the VCR in the extension cord. Then she said your TV vendor must have left the TV remote inside the packing box. These are heavily used ram shackled TV sets whose off and on button only worked. And it was working alright. I put my hand in the packing box and fished out a remote. She said there should be a search button which should work. There was button and I pressed it and low it worked. With a victory smile she sat back on the sofa and started seeing the tape of competitive commercials seeping black coffee which Rina had served. I told her “please help me get this STC account. They are dilly dallying with the product launch and made me do occasional research with dummy packs”. She said “they have to give you the account- its sincere work! Where is this office?”. I said about 12 km away, at a place called Tripureswor. They are on the third floor. On top of a two storied departmental store called Blue Bird. “Departmental store, good , let Rina and me go there after these meetings for shopping’.

I stammered “Rina Mrs Sinha , Rina would not be able to make it , she is not well…” She looked at me with surprise and also with anger. Why can’t she go, she looked alright to me this morning .I could make out she was offended. I slowly said ‘she is pregnant, third month, nausea, steep stair case…..” She glared at me got up from the sofa, climbed the stairs and knocked at my apartment. Surprised Rina opened the door, she went inside and shut it on my face. For almost half an hour there was closed door conversation of which I am not privy to anything till date. A s the door opened I could hear her say” Remember what I had said “and then looking at me she said “Hey you, We are going to Vanchha Ghar( a famous Nepalese Restaurant ) for a spicy ethnic dinner tonight – three of us.”

“But your dinner at AAN?”

“Not attending. After my speech I would excuse myself. Now let’s rush for you meetings, we are getting late. “The STC meeting was in the afternoon. She spoke extempore for 45 minutes, talking about market, consumer, communication. How much she could extract from little material I had presented to her! She told the marketing team why they should have a brand at the bottom to fight local competition and why they should think of moving into foods from tobacco as a long term strategy .In India ITC foods started 10 years after this. My mouth was gaping wide.  She looked at me, and then with a twinkle in her eyes said “they should give you a brand after this”. I nodded and went down to Blue Bird. And there she was so happy. Next half an hour she gave me hands on lecture on retail, display design, headlines, typeface, color schemes, brand positioning, point of reference, points of difference. What is smart and simple and what connects. In half an hour I had a crash course on design, communication, branding, and promotion. Finally I had to tell her to take some rest; she still had one more meeting and AAN lecture. She said I don’t feel tired when I talk about advertising.”

What I thought to be a nightmare turned out to be a lifetime experience. Next morning as I took her to airport she was already busy scribbling her thoughts on a piece of paper for some meetings in Delhi. I could make out she was preoccupied and was forgetting her hand bag. I told her I am carrying her handbag and would hand over before security checkup. She said she would like to make an ISD call. I took her to the booth in the airport and she spoke to somebody for some time  and then I found her running towards me with complete lost look on her face till she saw the hand bag in my hand . She braced herself, heaved a sigh of relief and laughed.” I completely forgot that the bag was with you”. Now I wonder was it temporary forgetfulness or indication of something much bigger than that. She crossed the security enclosure, waved at me from opposite side of the glass door and then showed me the hand bag she was embracing with both hands.