So here’s what provoked this blog. I watched Dabaang last weekend and came out mesmerized with the ‘Main Zandu Balm hui, darling tere liye’ number. No, it wasn’t because of Malaika Arora Khan, rather it was ‘Zandu Balm’ that I realized is such an iconic brand for all pain relievers that it inspired even an item number in a mainstream Hindi movie. It’s almost as if Zandu balm is a generic name for all products that relieve pain.
And this isn’t the only Indian brand that has achieved this status. Amul Butter is another one. I still find paav bhaaji thelas that serve Amul Paav Bhaaji as a distinct item on their menu. They even display empty cartons of Amul Butter on their carts as if to prove that they indeed use this brand of butter. Even if they weren’t they would still use the brand association, because of its perceived generalization as a product rather than just one of the labels that offer this product.
Consider Volvo buses that symbolize the luxury bus category in India. From state transport companies to private travel firms, all of them have tagged their brands with Volvo. So you have a ‘Neeta Volvo’ that plies the Pune-Mumbai-Pune route as a ‘Volvo’, and you also have the state transport run Shivneris and the private Metrolinks that also ferry on the same route as ‘Volvos’. Bear in mind that they do not claim to offer ‘luxury / comfortable road travel from Pune to Mumbai and back’, they simply offer a ‘Volvo’! And what’s more, I have even heard travelers demand Metrolink’s ‘Neeta Volvo’ versus any other ‘Volvo’! I am sure the Neeta Volvo proprietor would be mighty pleased at having created such a cult brand.
Surely there isn’t any other ego boost needed for a marketer when his consumers start demanding its brand name for the product category. And what better a testimony to this than the LIC Chairman’s recent interview, wherein he proudly states that his customers often ask each other, “Car ka LIC kiya kya?” (Have you LICed your car?) to imply buying an insurance for their cars – from a brand that’s actually known for ‘life’ insurance, and not as much for ‘general / vehicle’ insurance.
It’s the same case with Band Aid – I didn’t even know what its product category called, until I researched for this blog (btw, its website calls it ‘brand adhesive bandages’…Isn’t ‘Band Aid’ simpler?). Anyways, I simply ask the chemist for Band Aid and walk out with whichever brand of ‘Band Aid’ he offers. Ditto for Dettol’s ‘antiseptic liquids’. You would probably recall Bajaj as the only scooters or Kinetics as the only step-through, automatic-geared mopeds, even though LML also offered the former; and now of course Bajaj has discontinued its scooters completely. Then there is the legendary ‘Jeep’, that’s actually an SUV brand and not every Mahindra vehicle is a ‘Jeep'.
Some brands get so stuck to their categories that it’s difficult to give up their association even when you come across similar alternatives. For example, a visitor to our family store asked me for red colored Colgate toothpaste, while pointing towards Close-Up. While it could have to do with the person’s brand awareness or literacy levels, the confusion manifests itself even in the more urban populace. After moving to Bangalore, I inadvertently kept asking for directions to ‘Pune Central’, or reading ‘Pune Times’ for some time; in the process, being ridiculed for my Puneri hangover and often jeered for my (apparent) jingoism.
There are enough illustrations of international brands that became generic, Xerox being my favorite for photocopiers; however in the interest of blowing my marketing trumpet, I’d prefer recounting a tale of one that I created. This was for the services business of a company that I worked for. We created brands for some distinct service packages, with the most comprehensive one termed, ‘Service 360°’. The high point was when one of our customers demanded a ‘Service 360°’ from our competition; I was supremely elated. The experience comes a close second to one where a pretty girl riding pillion on someone else’s bike steals a glance at you. So much to flatter the male ego (in this case) and the professional one in the former :)
But what is it that creates such strong brands that achieve generic status? Amongst others, here are some critical ones:
First Movers: Distinct advantage. Period. Amul Butter was definitely the first to brand butter on a national scale, long before the Britannias and Nestles dished out theirs
Protectionist Policies: Not anymore, in this day and age of globalization. However, this was one ace up the brand sleeve of the license era when Bajajs and Marutis dominated Indian roads
Consistent Messaging: This one merits a separate blog; in the interest of brevity, I can simply add that butter wouldn’t have been ‘Amul Butter’ if it weren’t for the utterly, butterly billboard campaigns that consistently associated it with contemporary issues. Like this one that incidentally links paav bhaaji with the Harbhajan Singh slapping S Sreesanth episode with Amul Butter. Truly delicious!
So here’s to these iconic generic brands (the oxymoron surely flatters)! It won’t be long before Malaika endorses Zandu Balm. After all she is also pretty well down the path as ‘the’ item number girl, not to mention her dance moves that indeed relieve all pain and suffering from this inhuman world. Try it yourself; watch this video – Munni badnaam hui, darling tere liye!
It’s yet another of those days; thankfully! Quiet, yet bustling with activity; twilight, yet illuminated; unplanned, yet looking ahead to the week to come; alone, yet with the entire world in my lens. In a life so hectic and so well scheduled (more out of compulsion rather than habit), I seldom get a moment that I can call my own…all by myself…my space.
6:00 pm, refreshed after a good Sunday siesta, a cup of ginger tea by my balcony railing, comfortably seated on my jute and wood throne, addressing my digital audience – life doesn’t get better than this. Perhaps it is the din of kids playing downstairs or the sound of drums playing somewhere not so distant, or just the auto revving through the society gate, maybe the pressure cooker’s whistle from someone’s kitchen or the slight hum of an evening prayer…whatever it is, I am loving every moment of this melee of extremely disparate chords.
And then there are the voices within me. What am I going to do next this evening? Am I going out for dinner? Or just grab a movie at home? Catch up with friends online or call folks back home? What’s the plan at work this week? Which page did I leave the last book I was reading? Chuck it dude…I’ll continue gazing through the balcony.
It’s almost impossible to articulate such moments. When you have nothing to do, or even remotely planned for. No timelines, no deliverables, no commitments, no accountability, none to respond, neither to hear, nor to watch, much less to understand. When you can simply BE.
The only thing that comes perhaps close to such moment is the destination-less drive that I sometimes indulge in. When you can just soak in everything that’s around you without judging it, when it’s not important that you reach some place at a specified time to do a specific activity. When you just let Kishore Kumar and the road drive you, rather than the route and the small watch on your dashboard.
It is such moments that make the week’s grind worth it. Every now and then, you need a pit stop to recharge yourself before you are back on your daily track, racing towards the finishing line, hoping you’d be uncorking the champagne on the podium once you win. And of course, you anxiously look forward to the next one post that.
For now, I’d prefer ignoring all that and simply savor this moment. Simply BE.
There’s something about the Ganesh festival that excites me each year. Earlier it is used to be the prospect of a night-out doing the rounds of various mandals across the city, later the delight of checking out the decorations, subsequently the belief in the Lord, and today simply nostalgia of having missed out on the festivity. Here in Bangalore, I see a number of Ganesh idols on display along the streets and families flocking to pick the one of their choice to install in their homes. But the ‘Ganpati Bappa Morya’ chorus while taking him home is missing. Nor did I notice any huge pandals with super-size idols, blaring stereos or the generous spread of gulal anywhere.
Back home in Pune, I am sure it would be a completely different scene. Roads must be blocked (not really a surprise anymore), they must be lined with lights, adorned by Shah Rukh Khan posters selling Airtel, pavements full of make-shift counters vending vada paav…and of course huge pandals with serpentine queues of devotees waiting patiently for their turn to offer their prayers to the Lord. There was a time when I wondered how disturbing it must be for the local residents. These days it is pretty well regulated though and most mandals shut abide by the deadline. Some years back it was utter chaos, but I enjoyed it even then.
More so, my marketing stint over the past few years makes me wonder at Lokmanya Bal Gangadhar Tilak’s vision to create an event out of a seemingly mundane ritual. Conceived as an event to bring people together to spread the message of independence, pulling on the heart strings of devotion, it looks like an ideal case study on disseminating your message to the masses in a very entertaining, relevant environment. Decades later, it continues to inspire marketers with the perfect medium to target their campaigns and for some ad-hoc, small time entrepreneurs to try their hand at some rapid, low investment, high return business.
Professional inspiration apart, the festival has become quite a ritual for me. Every year, I visited at least the 5 maanache Ganpati mandals of Pune and any others with interesting decorations / acts along the route. Not to mention the daily trip to my grand parents’ place since they maintained the idol during the 10 day festival. Aah…and those mouth watering modaks that my aunt made! It’s surprising how much we miss things after we lose them. I doubt if I would find them in Bangalore anytime soon.
Hey, but I am not the only one at loss. I know my folks would miss me as well. I accompanied my grandfather as we handed our idol for immersion on the final day. Man that was one procession that one has to experience at least once in a lifetime. Imagine thousands (probably tens of them) of Puneites and probably an equal number of tourists from around filling up the streets, up on terraces of adjoining buildings, settled with shawls and even mattresses on the stairs leading to shops…all jostling with each other to catch a glimpse of the group dancing ahead of the chariot carrying the Lord. And it’s a pretty unique dance form as well. Half of the people there have never danced in their life and this is their only opportunity to show off their skills, which gives it it’s very own identity! And then there’s the sudden uproar whenever a popular group / mandal approaches.
Sure I miss all this excitement this year. In the same vein, I know Bangalore would have its own version of the festival and I will definitely try to catch up on it. If not this one, I am looking forward to some similar fervor during the Dasherra festival in Mysore. I am told that’s one not to miss. Hopefully, I should be able to post a travelog on that one soon.
Until then I have to make do by offering my prayers online. Even Gods have got pretty hi-tech these days; I recall seeing a credit card swiping machine at Dagdusheth Ganpati few years back for devotees wanting to donate in plastic money. I am sure they have now progressed to social media and I can find my favorite God’s FaceBook profile now. Hope to thank Him there; He’s been with me, always.
