1976. Mike was back from Delhi, trailing a striking path of success. He had done his thing there. Just four years earlier, that office was teetering on the edge. But now there was no looking back. He was here now in the Bombay office, the largest, most visible HTA office, slovenly in the way it moved and not knowing where it was going, while Madras and Calcutta looked at least washed and ironed. Three of the four offices were doing fine. Bombay, the largest, needed some doing. Subhas Ghosal’s mandate for Mike: Do the Delhi in Bombay.
Mike thought it might help to have me brought back to the city. We had a good run together in Delhi. There was a chance it could continue here. But things were not that easy. The office had evolved some excellent systems and boasted some of the finest talent in the city. Sadly, much of it was lying fallow while a few other fine people had metamorphosed into prima donnas.
Almost all copy was written by freelancers, while six of our own good ones sat twiddling their thumbs. “We must change all that,” Mike said. And Mike did. Feathers got ruffled, but at least there was a flapping of wings. Not easy, this flapping. I remember with anguish still one of the first meetings we had there. There arose a battle of wills between me, and the AV executive. A disagreement over the aesthetics and relevance of an AV treatment. Before I knew what was happening, the AVE’s resignation was on Mike’s table. Mike’s usual rational emollients did not work. He turned to me and said, “Ivan, now you listen to me,” to which I belligerently said, “This time, Mike. No.” He ended the meeting there. I went home that evening as if walking on burning coals. I confessed my transgression to Ingrid, my wife, and said that I had to apologise before the sun set. We went to Mike’s place. He heard my act of contrition and said. “Don’t apologise. You were fighting for what you believed. And so was the other fellow. We’ll meet tomorrow morning.” The next morning saw resolution and handshakes. The audio-visual presentation went on to win awards.
Subhas Ghosal was heard to have said at an awards ceremony where HTA walked away with 24 pieces of metal: “Mike, you have showered me with an embarrassment of riches.” Mr Ghosal was due for more ‘embarrassing’ riches when year after year Mike Khanna’s office showed growth that could only be reported with at least some show of bashful modesty.
Global greatness When in 1985, Mike took over from Mr Ghosal an agency, which the latter had polished to a shine that reflected his own refinement and professionalism, he knew that he was stepping into shoes that were not easy to fill. The eyes of the entire industry, many of them with the sceptic’s squint, watched as HTA hopped, stepped and jumped across borders to be counted among JWT’s top performers globally. Those shoes had morphed into sneakers, it would seem, as the agency sprinted ahead.
It was a seamless transition. Subhas Ghosal as Chairman Emeritus remained Mike’s mentor and chief cheerleader, his choice of successor more than vindicated. Mike’s quiet and most often unfailing logic was a screen that hid a sharp insight into people and an intuitive grasp of issues that eluded more overtly brilliant minds.
To some (like me) who tended to get blinded by the neon glare of corporate showmanship, Mike’s logical approach was a revelation and at most times a buffer to my own, very fallible ‘creative leaps’. It made him an ideal counsellor. That is how he was able to create leaders who today are at the helm of the country’s most respected companies.
Many of them openly admit their debt of gratitude for his role in their growth. To their litanies of praise and thanksgiving, I add my own, with the hope that it may wipe out the memory of the day I had to say ‘Sorry, Mike!’
Ivan Arthur is the former national creative director of HTA. His blog is Excalibur: arthurivannoel.blogspot.inivan.arthur@gmail.com