Packaging – The Silent Salesman

In 2002, while working as a marketing faculty at Bahirdar University in Ethiopia, I found myself in a land full of opportunity and learning, not just for the students, but for me too. Marketing was in a very rudimentary stage back then. The market itself was just entering its introductory phase, and naturally, there was very little in the way of teaching aids. No visual support, no props, and no real-world examples that students could relate to.

So, I reached out to my parents back in India and asked them to send me packaging materials — toothpaste tubes, soap wrappers, detergent boxes, and even Kellogg’s cereal cartons. Armed with these seemingly mundane items, I walked into my class. I vividly explained the difference between packing and packaging. Packing, I said, is for protection. Packaging, however, is for marketing.

A Lesson Etched in Memory: Years later, one of my former Ethiopian students approached me and said, “Dr. Anil, I still remember that class where you taught us the difference between packing and packaging. You said something I can never forget.”

He reminded me of what I had said in that session: “Packaging is the silent P of marketing – the silent salesman. When all the other Ps fall silent, it’s the humble packaging that must speak. It has to lure, seduce, cajole, and make the customer pick up the product. Once the product is in the customer’s hands, the chances of a sale shoot up. In a supermarket, buying decisions are made in a flash — and in that flash, every microsecond matters.”

That phrase – “silent salesman” – fascinated him. He pondered the contradiction in the phrase: Salesman and silent? How can a salesman be silent? Salesmen, after all, are often imagined as non-stop talkers, persuaders with overflowing enthusiasm. But in truth, some of the best salespeople I know are excellent listeners. They talk less and listen more. And in that silence, they uncover the real needs of the customer.

The Divine Design: Listen More, Talk Less. Even God, in His design, gave us two ears and just one mouth — a gentle reminder to listen more and speak less. That one class, that one metaphor — the “silent salesman” — made a lasting impact on my students. And perhaps, it made me a more thoughtful teacher, too.

Teaching Beyond the Textbook: I’ve always believed that a teacher should excite, not explain everything. Don’t be a kindergarten teacher who spells out each word. Ignite curiosity. Propel the student onto the path of self-discovery. Let the student read, question, and explore. If you create the spark, they will find the fire. And yes, sometimes, that spark can come from something as simple as a soap wrapper.

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Twitter to X: The confusing rebranding exercise!

 I’m actually quite surprised by the rebranding of Twitter as “X.” Yes, Twitter had a nice feel to it — clean, friendly, and full of energy. And let’s admit it, the word “Tweet” sounded exciting. It had personality. It had charm. But for whatever reason, Twitter is now X. Just X.

And that’s where the confusion begins.The most surprising part is this: the symbol "X" — in most contexts — stands for exit. On a screen, when you press X, you close a page, you leave. So why name a platform after something that subconsciously signals “go away”?

Yes, I agree, the rebranding didn’t exactly damage the platform. People still use it. Maybe most users shrugged it off, thinking — “What’s the big deal? It’s old wine in a new bottle.” The app still works, the posts are still there, and the timelines are still as chaotic as ever.

But from a branding perspective? X is flat. It’s minimalist, yes. Simple, maybe. But is it memorable? Does it convey energy, emotion, or identity? I'm not sure. And here's the part that really baffles me — what do we even say now?

We used to say, “I tweeted.”

Now what? “Did you X today?”

“Did you post an X?”

“I saw your X (sounds like your-ex)?”

Sorry, but that sounds more like a typo or a code than a conversation. Maybe this is what happens when branding becomes too cool for its own good. Maybe simplicity won over storytelling. Or maybe, just maybe, Twitter was more than just a name — it was a feeling. And that feeling has quietly exited… with an X.

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When Cricket player Warner outscores Nitin the telugu Film Hero - The Curious Case of 'Robinhood' and Warner Mama

Check out the depths to which the Telugu film industry has plunged. The much-hyped movie Robinhood, starring Nithin and Sreeleela, arrived... and disappeared without a ripple. Despite being led by two recognizable names, the film struggled to generate minimal buzz. It was almost as if the audience collectively shrugged and moved on.

But then came the twist — the promotional campaign decided to ride on the shoulders of an unexpected savior: David Warner, affectionately dubbed “Warner Mama” in Telugu-speaking states. Zee and the PR machinery tried to inject some oxygen into the movie’s dying pulse by giving Warner all the limelight. David Warner plays a cameo in the movie for two minutes and 50 seconds. And he was reportedly paid a sum of 3 crores!!

The implication? That a cameo by a cricket star — foreign, no less — was more valuable than the star power of the film’s actual leads. What does that say about the current standing of our Telugu heroes and the sorry state of content?

I sat through this lifeless flick for over 50 minutes — painfully — before giving up. Not a single glimpse of Warner Mama until then! Maybe his appearance is strategically buried deeper in the film, counting on curious viewers to fast-forward or wait it out. But perhaps that’s the trick — on OTT platforms, you only need to watch a few minutes for it to be marked as a "viewed movie." It’s not about compelling storytelling anymore; it’s about algorithms, impressions, and play counts.

Let’s also take a step back and consider this: cricketers have rarely succeeded in films. History is full of such experiments gone wrong. From Sandeep Patil’s forgettable stint to Sunil Gavaskar’s cameo, and even Varun Chakravarthy, who started in cinema and turned to cricket — the reverse journey! Salil Ankola is another telling case — once a promising cricketer, he lost his way chasing an elusive acting career.

Not to forget others like: Ajay Jadeja, Kapil Dev, Vinod Kambli, Harbhajan Singh, Sachin Tendulkar (in his biopic), Yuvraj Singh, Shikhar Dhawan, Irfan Pathan, Brett Lee, and Sreesanth. 

Their appearances might amuse fans, but let’s be honest — star value in cinema is earned, not borrowed. So here's the big question: Is Telugu cinema so creatively bankrupt now that it has to bank on a cricketer’s cameo for survival? If the answer is yes, then Robinhood isn’t just a movie — it's a mirror to an industry that’s losing its plot."

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what's in a name and in the logo - Everything - Operation Sindoor!!!

Operation Sindoor is more than a title. It’s a visual, cultural, and emotional response to a nation’s loss — and a reminder of its resilience. The red mark of sindoor, worn by married Hindu women, becomes a powerful symbol when linked with the forehead of India, Jammu & Kashmir. But when that sindoor is missing… it tells a different story.

This video explores:

The symbolism behind the colors of the logo

A tribute to the victims of the Pahalgam attack

A cultural metaphor that connects grief, strength, and strategy

A subtle nod to the Indus River and the strategic Indus Water Treaty

Every frame is a layer. Every color, a statement.

This is not just a video. It’s a message.

#OperationSindoor #IndiaFirst #IndusRiver #SymbolOfStrength #PahalgamAttack #JammuAndKashmir #CulturalResistance #RedForSacrifice #SindoorSymbolism #IndianWomen #VisualProtest #EmotionalTribute #IndusWaterTreaty #MilitarySymbolism #IndianHistory #ViralVideo #ReelsIndia #InstaReels #ShortsIndia #Storytelling #EmotionalVideo#Indianarmedforces

Operation Sindoor: The Name, the logo, the Message, A Masterstroke!!!

We’re not going to talk about the airstrikes here — let’s focus purely on the name and the logo of the operation. And I must say, the Indian Armed Forces have done a fantastic job on both fronts. First, take a look at the background colour — black. Black is traditionally the colour of protest, and in this context, it symbolically conveys that India is mourning the Pahalgam attack. Subtle, but powerful.

Now, the name — Operation Sindoor — is just as symbolic. If you visualise the map of India as a lady, then Jammu and Kashmir would be her forehead — and Sindoor is traditionally applied there. That alone makes the name rich in meaning.

It is also worth mentioning that the operation is dedicated to those unfortunate women who lost their life partners (Sindoor). The colour of Sindoor is the same as the sindoor that Hindu married women wear in their hair to symbolize their marital status. And when a lady loses her husband, she no longer wears the sindoor,    

But there’s more. "Sindoor" also subtly links to "Sindhu", the Sanskrit name for the Indus River. So, in a not-so-subtle way, the name also points towards the Indus Water Treaty, which India had previously put on hold. It’s a quiet reminder, but a strategic one.

All in all, a brilliantly designed logo and an even smarter name — one that really resonates with the public and frames the situation in exactly the right light.

Keywords:  Operation Sindoor, Indian Army, Pahalgam Attack, Indus Water Treaty, Sindoor Symbolism, India Map, Jammu And Kashmir, Protest Color, Black Symbolism, Military Naming, Strategic Messaging, Sindhu River, Indus River, Defense Strategy, Emotional Resonance, Military Logo Design, Symbolic War Names, India Strikes Back, Public Sentiment.

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Scrap Metal or Sacred Memory? The INS Vikrant and the Bajaj V15 motorcycle saga

Taken from my Facebook post of 29th October 2016. Bajaj V15 uses INS Vikrant’s metal, but does patriotism belong in marketing? A deep dive into branding, sentiment, and the ethics of emotional advertising.

Bajaj has introduced a bike—the Bajaj V15. Its fuel tank is apparently made from the metal scrap of the INS Vikrant, India’s first aircraft carrier. But here’s where things start to get uncomfortable. It’s not about the bike itself. It’s about how it's being marketed.

Bajaj decided to wrap the whole campaign in the Indian flag — metaphorically, of course — and say that buying the V15 is almost like doing your bit for the country. The message was clear: Buy this motorcycle, and prove your patriotism.

The Patriotism Pitch: Using national pride as a marketing strategy isn’t new. But there’s a thin line between honouring history and exploiting sentiment. And this campaign, intentionally or not, seems to cross that grey zone.

Aamir Khan is the spokesperson for Bajaj V15. He is endorsing the V15, calling it "a piece of history." But if history is what we’re after, then why not just give people a literal piece of the warship?

A Better Way to Remember:  Let’s take a cue from Germany. After the Berlin Wall fell, pieces of the wall were sold in tiny acrylic display cases. Each piece came with a certificate of authenticity, and people bought them not as gimmicks, but as historical artifacts. That made sense. It was symbolic, tangible, and respectful.

Bajaj should have done something similar—a commemorative plaque with a small, certified fragment of the INS Vikrant. That would have been an elegant tribute. Something to keep in your study or pass down to the next generation. Instead, they melted that sentiment onto a two-wheeler tank and called it patriotism.

Should Brands Use Patriotism to Sell? Companies should be inspired by history. That’s fine. Even admirable. But when the messaging shifts from “This is a cool bike with a historic touch” to “Buy this or miss your chance to be a patriot,” that’s where things go off tangent. We live in a country where emotions are powerful, especially national emotions. But it’s also our responsibility as consumers to know when that emotion is being tapped genuinely… and when it’s being sold to us with a price tag.

So, are we unpatriotic if you don’t buy the V15? Of course not. Buy it if you like the specs. Buy it if you like the design. Buy it if you’re a fan of Bajaj. But don’t buy it because someone told you it makes you a better Indian. 

Being a good citizen has nothing to do with what you ride, wear, or own. It's about how you think, how you act, and how you treat others. History isn’t something we buy — it’s something we remember, learn from, and respect. Let’s keep it that way.

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#BajajV15 #INSVikrant #PatrioticMarketing #AamirKhan #BrandEthics #EmotionalAdvertising #IndianNavy #MotorcycleCampaign #BerlinWall #MarketingAndNationalism #IndianBrands #HistoryInMarketing

Keywords: Bajaj V15, INS Vikrant bike, Patriotic marketing India, Aamir Khan Bajaj bike, Bajaj V15 patriotism, History in advertising, Emotional branding in India, Brand nationalism, Indian Navy tribute bike, Berlin Wall souvenirs marketing, Marketing ethics in India, Bajaj V15 campaign review, Bikes made from warships, Aamir Khan endorsements, Brand storytelling India

" Casagrand - High-End Homes, Low-End Placements: A Marketing Misstep"

I was coming home today — usual traffic, slight jam, nothing new. I casually turned to my left and spotted something peculiar.

There it was. A flyer, slapped onto the wall of a bus stand. Nothing unusual in that — except this one was for CasaGrande Apartments, with prices starting at ₹1.85 crore and going up to ₹3.8 or ₹3.9 crore!

Now, here’s where it gets interesting — or rather, absurd. Who exactly is this flyer speaking to? Let’s be honest. The average person waiting at a bus stand isn’t in the market for a ₹3.8 crore apartment. That’s just not how demographics — or logic — works. The kind of person considering a luxury apartment like that is probably not commuting via RTC buses. They’re more likely zipping by in a Mercedes, an Audi, BMW or at the very least, a cushy Uber.

So what’s the strategy here? Sticker shock? Accidental discovery? Or is someone at the media agency just ticking off deliverables without applying consumer insight?

Outdoor Media (OOH) has its place, especially in posh pockets like Gachibowli, Jubilee Hills, or Banjara Hills. Giant hoardings? Sure. Prime LED signage? Makes sense. But sticking a luxury apartment flyer on a dusty bus stand? That’s like promoting Rolex watches in the RTC timetable booklet.

And on a lighter note — maybe, just maybe, some of those Merc or BMW folks might notice the flyer while stopped at the signal. But what’s the brand perception then? Premium real estate stuck to public transport infrastructure? It’s a mismatch, and it cheapens the brand. The message you’re sending is confusing at best and contradictory at worst.

Let’s talk celebrity endorsers now. The face of this campaign? Venkatesh. Great actor, lots of respect, but let’s be honest — he’s past his peak when it comes to aspirational value for the younger, upwardly-mobile crowd. It feels like a safe, affordable choice rather than an impactful one.

What about someone like Ram Charan, Junior NTR, or Nitish Reddy? Even Sania Mirza or a young, dynamic achiever like P. L. Sindu could’ve added a fresh spark. Someone who aligns with ambition, aspiration, and modern luxury.

Affordability in endorsements is important, yes. But is affordability the reason we’re picking a celebrity who no longer connects with the target market? That’s a branding misstep. Just like that flyer at the bus stop.

So here’s some food for thought: Luxury brands must act like luxury brands. That means everything — from the celebrity you choose, to the place your flyer shows up — must reflect the image you're trying to build. Or else, you end up with a ₹3.9 crore apartment ad being read by someone figuring out if they can afford even a Rs 30 lakh apartment.

#LuxuryApartments #HyderabadRealEstate #CasaGrande #RealEstateMarketing #OutdoorAds #CelebrityEndorsement #GachibowliLiving #PremiumHomes #MarketingFail

Pakistan’s Copycat Syndrome: From Culture to Chak De India

All the rants from across the border — “We are superior,” “Our culture is superior,” “Our people are superior” — fall flat the moment you start observing the little things. Scratch beneath the surface, and what do you find? A nation that simply cannot resist copying India. And not just any India — they seem particularly fond of our filmi culture.

Take this recent snapshot of the Pakistan women’s cricket team celebrating their ICC Women’s World Cup qualification. They're all smiles — and rightly so. Qualifying for a global tournament is no small feat. But here’s the catch: their celebration was marked by a now-familiar gesture — the motion of a plane taking off.

Sound familiar? It should. It’s the exact same gesture that Shah Rukh Khan makes in Chak De India, when the Indian women’s hockey team gets the green light to fly to Australia for the World Cup. The parallels are striking. A women’s team. Doubts about qualification. An uphill battle. And a triumphant gesture of flight. It’s not subtle, it’s not accidental — it’s inspired. And by “inspired,” I mean blatantly copied.

Let’s be honest. It’s not just a hand movement. It’s a cultural imprint, a reference that only makes sense if you’ve seen the film. And from the look of it, every single one of them had. They’ve seen Chak De India. They were influenced by it. Possibly even motivated by it.

And that’s where the irony kicks in. For all the nationalistic chest-thumping and “we are not India” rhetoric, when it’s time to express raw emotion and celebrate the feel-good, the hard-earned, the heroic, they fall back on Indian cinema. And not just any Indian cinema — they fall back on Shah Rukh Khan.

If copying is the highest form of flattery, then Pakistan is a master in the art of imitation. From television formats to cricket leagues, from music videos to movie scenes, from news anchors to national narratives — if it’s Indian and it works, it eventually makes its way across the border with a few tweaks and a lot of denial.

So here’s to the Pakistani women’s team — for qualifying, for making history, and for giving a nod (whether they admit it or not) to Chak De India. Sometimes, gestures speak louder than words. And sometimes, even louder than borders.