Remembering Piyush Pandey Through the Eyes of a Young Creative

A young creative recalls meeting Piyush Pandey and the lessons that shaped her journey in advertising.

Piyush Pandey's last words to me were: socho aur banao, do-chaar aur! (Think and make two-four more) Think and create.

(Photo: Aroop Mishra/The Quint)

25 April, 2016.

I saw Piyush Pandey for the first time at my convocation, felicitating advertising students. Then, I learned advertising.

Cut to: 20 December, 2024.

We went to pitch for a client. Waiting in a room outside, we quickly went over the flow of the presentation, shared some selfies in an internal group, did fair bit of small talk—the usual stuff. We were called next to present.

Our business head led us through a narrow alley to the meeting room. We were all behind him. I still remember the exact sequence of events: he opened the door, closed it instantly, turned around and said: Andar toh Piyush Pandey hain (Piyush Pandey is inside.)

The Man, The Myth, The Legend

Before these words could settle in, hello-hi’s began being exchanged across the long table in the room.

Through scattered handshakes, I finally saw him—the man, the myth, the legend—in a floral-print shirt and the iconic moustache, scribbling on a piece of paper.

He did not seem to care about the performative round of introductions. As the crowd cleared, I realised everyone had taken their seats. My team, very cleverly, chose seats away from Piyush Pandey. I had my seniors on the left, and peers on the right. And there I was, in the middle, with a heart waiting to explode over that wooden table that stretched from one corner of the room to the other. I took my seat, right in front of Piyush.

The presentation began: who we are, what we stand for, our creds, brief recap, and so on. Nothing. Piyush did not look up even once. He could not care less, I suppose. Even though the screen was on my left, I kept staring straight, observing the greatest man in advertising. He snoozed through 150 slides of faff.

Finally, we arrived at the creative part of the presentation. I had to narrate my script—a 3 on 5 at best—to the legend, revered for almost every iconic ad made in India. That is when he looked up. Imagine, as an aspiring filmmaker, if you were to pitch a script to Martin Scorsese or your novel to Stephen King. There is no way you can ace it. I did what I had to do. Took a deep breath, made eye contact, and just started.

I gave everything I had in me to make the narration right. Of course, I fumbled. You cannot meet a lion’s gaze without feeling a chill run down your spine. Somewhere, I also thought, this was my only chance. I could either make it or break it. I just wanted him to remember me.

The Conversation That Counted

At the end of the presentation, he engaged in a discussion with us. This was our victory. We knew he liked our thoughts because he built his own on those. He saw potential in us, and my at best 3 on 5 script. I wrote down every word he said, every preposition and parlance.

Piyush decided to leave while everyone was busy wrapping up the discussion. What I saw next, makes so much sense now, as I read tributes popping up on my timeline.

Even though the discussion was on, my seniors and team members rose from the chairs to touch Piyush's feet before he left. Who knew when they would see him next, seek his blessings, or draw on his Midas touch that made every ad unforgettable.

Fortunately, we found him downstairs later. My peers took pictures with him, spoke about their Ogilvy experience, reminded him how they met him when they were just starting. Meanwhile, I was standing at a distance, feeling too shy to approach and too dumb to strike a conversation. Thankfully, my colleagues introduced me, and we all took pictures like starstruck fans. I thought I had lived my greatest moment in advertising.

 The Greatest Moment

Cut to: 10 January 2025.

I am in a WhatsApp group with Piyush Pandey. The client had chosen us, and we were to work directly with Piyush as their creative advisor. The first time he called, I took a screenshot.

He would give feedback on the lines I wrote. He was on our side in every creative discussion. He defended our work, our viewpoints. After months and months of Saturday early-morning calls and several in-person meetings, we released the films. He was proud of us. And we could not be prouder for being appreciated by the man who defined advertising in India. I probably wanted to put this under the awards section on my resume.

Cut to: 24 October. 2025.

I woke up to the news of Piyush Pandey passing away. There was chatter around him being unwell. However, a senior put it very well when he had said: He’s a monster. He’s a lion. He will spring back. We knew he would come back. Even when I met him the last time, he left the premises telling us to think of more ideas and do not let the momentum die.

To me, his last words were: socho aur banao, do-chaar aur! (Think and make two-four more) Think and create.

This is what I am taking away from my last 10 months of working with him. I may not have a legendary story as most advertising veterans do. However, I do have a special moment that reminds me that my voice matters, even when I think it does not. It was during a meeting when Piyush Pandey called out my name and said, “Akshita, tum batao. Tumhe kya lagta hai? (What do you think?)"

THAT was my greatest moment in advertising.

(The author is an advertising professional with over 10 years of experience. This is an opinion piece and the views expressed above are the author’s own. The Quint neither endorses nor is responsible for the same.)