When Usha Bhandarkar taught a terrified rookie that advertising had a heart

MUMBAI: The news arrived at the worst possible moment. Kiran Khalap, founder and managing director of Chlorophyll Brand, was about to address 500 Gen Z students at Mumbai’s Rachana Sansad art college when he learned that Usha Bhandarkar had died. His voice caught. His composure crumbled. He made the unsuspecting crowd stand in silence for a minute. They had no idea who she was. But Khalap knew exactly what she had done for him.

Lintas in 1983 was a temple of glamour. Beautiful people. Alyque Padamsee’s disciples. Theatre meets advertising. Into this arena stumbled Khalap: terry cotton pants, oiled hair, fresh from Chembur—galaxies away from Nariman Point. For six months he clung to his writing skills like a man dangling from a ledge. At Friday’s open bar, he stirred Fanta drops into water to fake whiskey. Lost. Isolated. Terrified.

Then Bhandarkar arrived. “This is very well-written, Kiran. Present it to Shunu Sen.” Sen was Unilever’s marketing director. Khalap had been in advertising for six months. Bhandarkar for two decades. “That’s six months more than any of them,” she said.

She sent him to lecture at IIM Ahmedabad. She found him freelance gigs when he confessed his only reason for joining advertising:  paying for his parents’ surgeries. She commissioned his father, a commercial artist, for a Unilever illustration. She gifted him a Walkman (“Increase your understanding of western music”). Most importantly, she didn’t drink either.

When Surf Lalitaji launched in metro cities, Bhandarkar told the client: “I’m not coming if my creative team isn’t coming.” Khalap discovered that self-respect was non-negotiable in advertising. Also: five-star hotels and flights.

Her clarity extended beyond campaigns. “Keep quiet, Kiran. There’s only one real modern artist in India. Anjolie Ela Menon.” Or: “Stop these grandmother nuskhas. Pop an anti-allergen and come back to work.”

After three years of grooming, when Khalap was offered a creative head role in Calcutta, Bhandarkar said: “Go. I’ll miss you, but go. It’s good for you.”

Decades before “bringing your whole self to work” became corporate jargon, Bhandarkar turned up with haldi stains on her jeans. In an industry built on insecurity and one-upmanship, she was selflessness incarnate. She left in peace and stillness, asking others to do the same.

Khalap’s parting shot: a photo from her eightieth birthday, both laughing at a past that no longer exists. “Bye, Usha.”