Those touched by Piyush Pandey honour his teachings

On Friday, Indian advertising lost its voice, the one that spoke straight to the heart of India. Piyush Pandey, adman, mentor, storyteller, and the man who taught brands to speak in the language of people, passed away, leaving behind his iconic work and a country that still hums his lines.

The last time I wrote about him, it made him cry. This time, it’s me.

On Teacher’s Day, last year, I had spoken to his mentees, friends, colleagues and clients, all of them overflowing with stories of what he had taught them. He’d later told Lorraine, then Corporate Communications Head of Ogilvy India, that my feature brought tears to his eyes.

As I write this one, it feels heavier. There’s a lump in my throat that refuses to go away.

Because this time, it isn’t a story I’m writing. It's goodbye.

When the news of Piyush Pandey’s passing broke, the entire advertising industry couldn't hold the weight of this loss. How do you put words to a loss like this? It wasn’t just an adman who left us. It was the heartbeat of Indian advertising.

At his funeral, as family, friends, and colleagues gathered to say their last goodbye, something extraordinary happened. Their voices trembled, their eyes filled, and together, they began to sing, ‘Mile Sur Mera Tumhara’. It was a circle closing.

Decades ago, Piyush Pandey had helped write the lyrics to what would become one of India’s most enduring cultural moments, a song that first aired on 15th August 1988.

And now, all these years later, that same song returned from the hearts of those who loved him most.

As they sang, you could feel it, the lump in every throat, the ache in every heart. It wasn’t just his family and friends saying goodbye. It felt as if the entire nation, the one he had given words and emotion to, was singing him home. That was his legacy, so deep, so emotional, so human, that even his farewell sounded like the India he helped shape through stories.

And yet, for all his grandeur, for all the history he carried on those broad shoulders and that mischievous smile, what I remember most about Piyush Pandey is how he made you feel seen.

One of the perks of being a journalist is that you get to meet a lot of people. It got me to meet him.

It was my first industry event, and he had just launched his second book, ‘Open House’. I was nervous, palms sweating, words fumbling. I was to interview the Piyush Pandey, the legend, the adman.

He sensed my nervousness almost instantly. He cracked a few silly jokes, the kind that make you laugh even when you’re panicking inside. Within minutes, he’d made me feel like I was chatting with an old friend, not a Padma Shri-winning icon whose words had defined decades of Indian storytelling.

During our chat, I mentioned how much I was learning from his wisdom. With that signature twinkle in his eye and a grin that stretched from ear to ear, he said, "You’re not just learning from people; they’re learning from you too."

That’s what he did, he left you a little lighter, a little wiser, and somehow believing you could do more than you thought you could.

His reputation preceded him, the warmth, the wit, the sparkle in his words. When he spoke at the event, one line stayed with me long after, “Hamesha front foot pe khelo.” (Always play on the front foot.)

Of course he’d say that, a Ranji Trophy cricketer from Jaipur who once thought his life would be measured in wickets, cricket metaphors came as naturally to him as punchlines. 

He didn’t just sell products, he sold feelings. “Har ghar kuch kehta hai,” “Kuch khaas hai hum sabhi mein,” “Chal meri Luna,” “Do Boond Zindagi Ki,” weren’t just taglines. They were slices of life, spoken in the language of people, drawn from our daily chaos, warmth, humour, and love.

The Captain and his crew

For those who built their creative lives under Piyush Pandey’s roof, his passing feels like losing both a leader and a home.
Harshad Rajadhyaksha, Kainaz Karmakar, and Sukesh Nayak, Chief Creative Officers at Ogilvy India, said, “The most honest thing we can say is that we’re numb.”

His living room, they said, was their second office. “From the day we joined Ogilvy to this day, he was our Creative Director and we were his team. This is an honour we can’t forget or replace. Even if he can’t hear us present ideas anymore, every time we create something we will be asking ourselves, ‘Will Piyush like this?’ What we can promise as our tribute to him, is to carry on his belief in creativity, culture and bravery.”

To many of them, Piyush wasn’t just a boss, he was the pulse of the place. Rajiv Rao, Director at Nirvana Films and former NCD at Ogilvy & Mather, who worked alongside him for nearly three decades, recalled, “Besides being an incredible captain who always led by example, Piyush was also our greatest cheerleader. I’ll never forget how, every time we won an award and stepped off the stage, he was the first to greet us — with the warmest, tightest hug. His embrace felt like that of a proud father — eyes moist with emotion, filled with pride and affection.”

Those hugs, those proud nods, those pep talks, that was how he built not just a legacy, but a family.

The friend who stayed

Some friendships outlast agencies, awards, and time itself,  bound by shared love for life and ideas.

KV Sridhar (aka Pops), Global Chief Creative Officer Nihilent Limited & Hypercollective, reflected on his bond with Piyush Pandey, a friendship that spanned more than four decades. “Our journey was over 40 years long,” he said. “We were contemporaries, the same age group. He was a year older, but I started in advertising a little earlier. We were competitors and collaborators, working for the same clients, on different brands, serving on juries together, representing the country, fighting for brands, for business, for talent. We nurtured talent together too. Many people who worked with me went on to work with him, and vice versa.” Pops recalled that their last conversation was about Harshad and Kainaz, how well they were doing, and how proud both men were of them. “He was full of praise for them, and I was too. We were both so happy and proud to see such wonderful talent.”

Pops described Piyush not just as a professional ally but as an affectionate friend. “He wasn’t the kind of friend you meet every evening for a drink,” he said, smiling softly. “We cooked together, ate together with passion, and spoke about life, more than advertising. What I valued most about him were his values, his zest for life, and his love for ideas. That’s what kept our friendship alive for so many years. There was never gossip, only conversations about life and creativity.”

Even though they never worked in the same agency, their friendship and mutual respect ran deep. “We always felt that we represented India, especially when we were on global juries,” he said. “In fact, we were among the first from India to go to Cannes and speak to the world about Indian advertising.” Their bond, he explained, was built on shared passion for ideas, for talent, and for showcasing Indian creativity to the world. “Wherever I go, people ask me, ‘How is my friend Piyush?’ Whether they’re from Lowe, Leo Burnett, or anywhere else, it’s always the same. That’s how loved and respected he was globally.”

For Pops, the loss goes far beyond advertising. “It’s not just Indian advertising or business that will miss him, it’s the entire nation,” he said . “He gave Indians pride in our language, our culture, our identity. Some of the things he did went beyond advertising, they touched patriotism, values, and the way we saw ourselves.”

As he paused, his voice softened. He said, “It’s hard and it feels very sad to lose a friend who was your age, your contemporary. But some things stay valued for a very long time. The memories, the work, the world he created, they’ll live on for years. Our lives begin and end, but what we create remains. That’s what Piyush has left behind.”

And perhaps that’s true for all of us who crossed paths with Piyush, we carry a little bit of what he created.

The legend who listened

In an industry driven by ego, Piyush stood out for something rarer, his humility.

Lorraine Martin, who worked with him for nearly three decades at Ogilvy, knew that warmth well.

“Piyush was pure joy to work with. There was never a dull moment with him. Even in a crisis, he found a way to make us laugh by looking at the humour in the situation. Only he could do that — he was our gift, our blessing,” she shared.

She recalled one instance when a press report ran without fact-checking and the outcome was inaccurate and negative. “I was agitated,” she said. “Piyush simply smiled and said, ‘Lorraine, it’s okay. Remember, they also have a job to do.’”

That was him, grounded, empathetic, and calm, even in chaos. “Although I had already spent several years in publishing and public relations, I learnt so much more on my journey with him. I will cherish my time with him and hold those memories close to my heart,” she said

In every story shared about him, the common thread was the same, warmth wrapped in wisdom. 

Talha Bin Mohsin, Writer, Filmmaker, and Co-founder at Better Late Than Never Films, called him “a life of bold ideas and quiet strength.”

“You came from Jaipur, played Ranji-Trophy cricket, tasted tea, then walked into the corridors of Ogilvy & Mather India and rewrote what Indian advertising could be. You crafted campaigns that didn’t just sell, they spoke to the heart of India, in its language, culture, humour. You gave us “Har Ghar Kuch Kehta Hai,” “Kuch Khaas Hai,” among many others,” he wrote.

But beyond the work, what stayed with Talha most was his humility.

“What struck me most were not the awards or the global accolades (though you had those in abundance). What struck me was the humility behind the legend. The way you’d listen, really listen, to ideas, even when you had decades under your belt. The way you encouraged young voices, asked questions, challenged assumptions, pushed us to find the “truth” in the story rather than chase the flashy.”

“Goodbye Sir. Till we meet again,” he said. 

In every story told with honesty, and every idea rooted in truth, Piyush will always be listening.

The man who saw beyond the obvious

For many, Piyush was the person who saw you when no one else did.

Nandita Chalam, advertising faculty at XIC and former Creative Director at Ogilvy and JWT, remembers how he changed the course of her life.

“I will be eternally grateful to Piyush Pandey because he helped me come back into advertising after a 7-year ‘baby break’,” she shared. “He didn’t care that the only ‘creative’ thing I had done in those years was having a baby! He remembered a Johnson & Johnson campaign I had done before I left India and hired me on the strength of that. He was always about the big picture, the big idea, the big emotions. Will miss him and his loud roaring laugh.”

That ability to see potential where others saw pause, that was Piyush’s quiet power. And then there were stories that captured his wit and instinct in full flight.

Ashiish Patil, Chief Storyteller, CEO & Co-founder at Isspeshal StratCon LLP, recalled how Piyush helped him “wake up” MTV when it had hit a creative plateau.

“MTV was riding high. Ratings roaring, revenue soaring, until it wasn’t. I needed to shake things up. That’s when I reached out to Piyush,” he said. “True to form, he condensed everything into a line that hit harder than a shot of espresso after an all-nighter: ‘Patil, main aa ke bolunga… JAAGO MOHAN PYAARE!’”

Piyush dismantled excuses, decoded complexity, and reminded teams to stay nimble, desi, and bold.

“Budget nahi? (No budget?) ‘Highway chhod, patli gully pakad.’ (Skip the highway, take the narrow lane.)

Boss ya client ko idea pasand nahi aaya? (The boss or client didn’t like the idea?) ‘Naya idea soch.’ (Think of a new one.)

How can we be aspirational in Hindi? ‘Party mein Sukhbir ke gaane pe naachta hai ya U2 ke?’ (At parties, do you dance to Sukhbir or to U2?)

Mic drop!

And we went out to relaunch, reposition MTV

In one of the most ambitious campaigns that I’d ever worked on.”

Ashiish added, “I am beyond honoured and overwhelmed that Piyush graced the foreword for my book.”

That was the thing about him; Piyush always showed up. For the work, for the people, for the stories waiting to be told.

When I think of him now, I go back to that moment, his voice echoing in my head, “Hamesha front foot pe khelo,” that glorious moustache, that twinkle, that grin only he could wear. Maybe that’s what he taught all of us, to live, to create, to feel, always on the front foot.

And so we will, carrying his stories, his laughter, and his spirit forward.