6:45 at Willie's?

Reminiscing my personal rockstar

It was a balmy October evening in 2006, around 6:30 pm. I had been summoned by the head of HR of Lowe Lintas to Express Towers in downtown Mumbai. To meet with a certain Mr. Fali Vakeel. Back story to this situation was that I had been interviewed for an opening at Lowe Lintas. I was selected and the head of HR had made me an offer. I had been underwhelmed by it. And there was a bit of back and forth that had happened over a few phone calls that continued over a couple of weeks. There was a stalemate. Which is when, as a final way out of it, I was summoned to meet up with Fali who had been tasked by someone who reported to him to get me on board!

I reached the 13^th floor office of the agency, was met at the reception by the lady who had summoned me and was immediately rushed into Fali’s office. I walked into a corner office that was thick with cigarette smoke. Fali was in the middle of dictating a piece of correspondence to his Executive Assistant in the classical style of dictations - “Dear Mr. So and So … para … This is in reference to your mail dated so and so … para …” - and so he gestured me to take a seat. For the first time in my career I was face to face with someone who was the perfect embodiment of the word “distinguished”. Once done with the dictation, he turned around and turned his full attention to me. He told me that he had been told I was good and that if he was not successful in convincing me to join, his life would be made living hell by the business head who had upward delegated. He went into full spiel mode of telling me how good the agency was, how great the team that I would be working was, how it was the most dynamic team across all offices, how I would do really well in an institution like Lintas, etc etc etc … And then he abruptly stopped. With a piercing gaze that held, he said, “But why the fuck am I telling you all this!?! The fact that you are sitting here means that you have made up your mind to join. So, stop playing hard ball and just fucking join!” It all lasted not more than 15 minutes, including the time he took for finishing his dictation.

I did join. And remained there for the next 15 years.

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Why am I telling you this? Because Framroz H. Vakeel, aka Fali Vakeel, took a one-way trip to the other side just short of a couple of weeks ago. And it has left a void in me that I know will be impossible to fill.

This post is not an obituary. How he would hate me if this were one. It is more a celebration of, and a reflection on, how Fali influenced me over close to two decades with tips (not lessons, never lessons) that will last me for life. Bear with me as I indulge in my recollections of a man who has been a massive influence on me, for me. In today’s times when there are personal trainers, personal stylists, personal this and personal that … I feel privileged to have had my personal rockstar in Fali.

Fali never taught. He didn’t have the patience for it. And he didn’t take himself so seriously as to think of himself as a guru. If you were keen enough, you learnt from him.

And boy, was I keen!

I learnt about leadership from that first encounter with Fali. Here was a man with authority, but who wore it lightly. Lightly enough that he was willing to be tasked by his senior subordinate if it meant reaching a resolution. And though the authority was worn lightly, he knew the weight his word carried. Which he used extremely judiciously and precisely.

I learnt how to know my numbers well. At all times. Fali had this ritual of taking a walk along the corridors of the office with a plastic folder thick with sheets which were only filled with numbers. And as he passed by, he would casually stop and check with the likes of me as to how business was doing. My baptism by fire happened when on one of his walks, he casually asked me about a specific metric. And I was caught unawares, which in front of him felt like being caught with your pants down. So I mumbled something. He just flashed his famous smile and enlightened me about the state of my businesses. My businesses which he knew better than I knew about – especially when it came to numbers. And this was true for all the businesses of the entire agency which had offices spread across all the metros.

I learnt how to cut through crap. Fali couldn’t be bothered and bored with details. He was the quintessential big picture man. But never in a high handed, perched-on-a-throne way. When in a meeting, he would produce a unique take on the creative product which was at once simple, and yet quite telling in a slap-your-forehead kind of way. It was always a point that would be kind of conclusive in the agency’s favour, without antagonizing the client.

I learnt how one should never lose the focus on the ‘business of advertising’. How to balance the two opposing forces of business and creativity. This was of paramount importance since creatively inclined suits like me run the risk of losing focus on the business side in the pursuit of creative excellence. While I never got a chance to directly work with him on any of my businesses (he was always my super boss with a national mandate), there was enough proof all-around of offices that he oversaw doing fabulously well creatively, as well as monetarily.

I learnt how to go the extra mile for the team – especially when your immediate subordinates are on the cusp of taking the lead over from you. I was fortunate to have become a business head who he took under his wings … or rather who he gave wings to fly by just being there. Every time. Especially on new biz pitches. I remember him making time on a Saturday to accompany me for the final round presentation of a new business pitch. I remember him catching an earlier flight from Delhi just so that he could be part of the negotiations meeting of a new biz that was based in Malad. I specify the location because for someone for whom the Worli sealink was akin to the edge of city limits, and the airport was a necessary evil that had to be visited. Coming to Malad was like doing a cross-country drive. But come he did. Did he need to? Probably not. But he realized the importance of the support that I needed of an organization standing behind me. And him being the classical organization man, who better could I ask for to be with me.

I learnt how to be around when needed by the team. Where the need of the team is not of taking charge of a meeting, but just being there. Fali was always there. Always. And he had a way of being there without being imposing. He volunteered to be there just when you wanted him to be there, but were unsure if it was the right thing to do to impose yourself on his time and schedule. Fali made it a point to be there. I am hard pressed to remember where I had read this line, but had found it so apt for Fali’s style of leadership that I had noted it down in my phone –

“Not what you asked for, but just what you needed. That doesn’t happen very often. When someone combines generosity, insight and bravery to provide something before we know that’s what we need, we are particularly grateful. It’s a special form of leadership.”

I learnt how to know things. Especially important when one is navigating a massive ship like Lintas. Nothing missed Fali’s eye. He knew … just knew. His famed walks around the corridors of the office a few times a day, stopping by to chat, to flirt, to overhear, to crack a joke, and yes to check on numbers with the suits, on campaigns with the creatives, and even on financials with the bean counters … all played a huge part in Fali being on top of things. Always. In what was a pitiable version of Fali’s walk, I used to stand by my cabin door just generally observing my team going about their stuff. Fali must have observed it a few times ‘cos one day he came by and asked me, “What the fuck are you doing here standing like a Lebanese pimp?” Jokes aside, if there was one thing that I often managed to surprise my team about was how much I knew about the stuff that they were doing, without hovering above their shoulders. No small credit to the man I learned it from.

I learnt how not to take things, or myself, too seriously. I remember a meeting that happened on the day of our annual day party. The party had started at 11 in the morning at Lower Parel. Our meeting was at 7 in the evening at Hyatt, Santacruz. Fali was mildly pissed, and massively pissed off that the client had insisted on having a meeting that same day in spite of being told about our party. But business was business. So off we went in various states of inebriation. The client arrived. We were at the bar. The client said we could have our drinks later again after the meeting. So without paying we went to a conference room that had been booked. The meeting started. Was going well. Till such time that the client made some silly points and then started insisting on them being implemented. The mildly pissed, but still massively pissed off, Fali in his ‘smooth operator’ ways made some rather strong points refuting what the client said. Client argued back. At which point Fali announced that he was no longer needed in the room since the client had already decided what they wanted. And walked out. I made some incoherent sounds that sounded apologetic, and rushed out to pacify Fali. Who, it turned out, was grinning and told me he would be at the bar. He said the client wasn’t going anywhere as he was in love with the work, so don’t worry on the business front. He was just getting bored and wanted a drink and so he put on an act! Told me to go back inside and wrap up the meeting. Later on at the bar he spoke to the client but didn’t exactly apologize for walking out. And once the client was out of earshot said to me, “Isn’t this absolutely fantastic? We piss off the client, and yet get him to pay for the drinks!”

Most importantly I learnt how to ‘sense’ things when it came to the team. My first taste of Fali’s sense of sensing was when one day late evening I was sitting to collect my increment (and hopefully promotion) letter, from a newly anointed CEO who, though he was an old hand at the agency, I had never worked with before. The agency had been through a leadership churn and so, things were a little ‘fragile’ if I could call it that. The only senior management person that I knew well and who knew me well was Fali. My take is that Fali had ‘sensed’ that the new CEO too needed him to be around while handing over the letters. I was handed mine. No promotion. I put the letter back in the envelope, said thank you and left the room. And left for home. I didn’t let out any emotion. Or so I thought. The mind, however, was whirring with stuff like updating my CV, putting in my papers the next day, going on leave and putting in my papers, how life at Lintas had suddenly become worthless, etc etc. The next morning, en route to office, I get a call from the Executive Assistant of the CEO asking me to first come meet her boss before going to my office. So, I went to the CEO’s office. Who told me that Fali and he didn’t like the way I left the room last evening without saying anything. I said I had nothing to say. So, the CEO told me that Fali and he had a chat and … he handed me another envelope and said, ‘Congratulations!’ I never explicity checked with the CEO, but something tells me that it was an outcome of the fact that Fali ‘sensed’. I never checked with Fali either if it was he who put in a weighty word for my promotion. Fali always sensed when one was under stress, when one could do with a smoke in his cabin - smokefree offices had happened by then, but Fali’s office had a window that opened just that wee bit, just enough to flick the ash from his cigarette - or a strong coffee … or a strong drink at a nearby bar. Like the earlier learnings, this too has been a tough act to follow the man.

While some of these rational, tangible traits could be learnt … acquired skills if I can call them … what could never be learnt or even emulated to any respectable degree by anyone was the undisputed suaveness, charm and charisma of Fali that were hardcoded in his DNA.

All the tributes that have flowed in industry magazines and journals since his passing all have one thing in common that everyone said – Fali was the last of the Mad Men of advertising. One of my non-advertising friends who had watched Mad Men was shocked to hear that I hadn’t. When asked why, I simply told him that I have worked with a man from whom the show could take a leaf or two.

There were many Fali’s you came to know when you worked with him.

Fali, of the excellent sartorial tastes. A line I read in a feature on the British actor Bill Nighy says,

“Because the point of clothes, to him, is not just the cut or the quality, but how you wear them. The Holy Grail of style, for Nighy, is to wear expensive clothes casually.”

Fali epitomized this line.

Fali exuded class. Fali never had labels screaming. If you knew, you knew. And what does one say about Fali’s exquisite collection of shoes … ufff … with a shine that was always never too shiny … just right. In my early days in Lintas I once mustered up the courage to ask Fali as to how many pairs he owned. “Don’t go there, Shantanu”, is all he said. I persisted throwing numbers like 20 … 30 …? He persisted equally with the same line. On getting to know him a little better I once again asked him. His reply was the same. A guy noticing another guy’s shoes is par for the course. But for a (then) 13 year old girl (my daughter) to also notice them when Fali graced our home says a lot! We had a joke going between some of us that if Fali was kidnapped, all that the kidnapper had to do was to strip him and sell his clothes, shoes and watch and he wouldn’t feel the need to demand a ransom. Of course it would help the kidnapper if kidnapped Fali in his own car which happened to be a BMW 3-Series before he retired (which I then became a proud owner of - again a pitiable way of trying to see if some of Fali’s charisma could rub off on me), and later a Mercedes A180 and a Jaguar XF after he retired.

Fali, of the colourful language. That was the only dead giveaway of his Parsi genes. Otherwise, Fali could be easily mistaken for a Londoner. It is said of Urdu that ‘gaali bhi tareef lagti hai’. It was like that with Fali. He could blurt out a line laden with expletives, but with such flair that it almost sounded poetic.

The only people Fali had sympathy for - faux, of course - were the residents of the above town. He would say, “Imagine spending a lifetime not being able to tell where they are from! Poor things.”

Fali, of the alternately witty and sarcastic repartees and one-liners that would be enough to deflate anybody. It’s become the stuff of urban legend within a certain pedigree of Lintas-ites. The Lebanese pimp one I already mentioned. Then there was the time when Fali was with someone who ordered an Old Monk and when asked next what he would like, Fali replied coolly, “A young nun!” There are so many that an entire book can be written on this subject.

This used to be pinned on the soft board in Fali’s office, which he handed over to me on his last day in office.

Fali, of the many quirks like a desk full of pens that he had picked up from the various hotels he stayed in on his frequent travels around the country and the world. Or his childlike enthusiasm about the latest Kingfisher calendar.

The pens!

The sexiest woman in Fali’s life. “She’s exquisite. I must have her”, he said to the real owner of this figurine and she was generous enough to let her be part of Fali’s office. Many years later, “I must have her” is something I told Fali and he was generous enough to part her with me. She now has pride of place in my drawing room.

Fali, of the politically incorrect points of view that in today’s times could have possibly landed him behind bars. “Thank god, I left in time”, is what he had to say about that.

Billy Mack (Bill Nighy’s character in ‘Love Actually’) has a classic line that goes, “Hiya kids. Here is an important message from your Uncle Bill. Don't buy drugs. Become a pop star, and they give you them for free!” It’s a line that best encapsulates Fali’s irreverence, wit and sarcasm. I can see Fali say something like this with a flourish, give his broad smile, with the perennial twinkle in his eyes and fully get away with it without getting bruised.

The thing with Fali was that he said the most incorrect things with such correctness and polish and elan that one couldn’t hold a grudge against him. Like another lady colleague said about him in a farewell book of Fali-ism’s that he was gifted, “Fali is the only person I know who can say the most misogynistic sounding things to men and women alike, and get away with it. He is always irreverent and never offensive, because he is truly the most non-sexist man in the world!” Try beating that!

And last but not the least - Fali, of the how-to-wear-your-impact-lightly kind. There are not many who can claim to induct their friend into a brave new world, and inspire them enough for them to be commissioned to write a book on their inspiration. Fali inducted author Sebastian Faulks into the world of James Bond. Leading him to eventually write '“Devil May Care” and dedicate it to Fali!

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Over the years, Fali and I had this ritual. When in office he would walk towards my cabin and ask, “6:45 at Willie’s?” – Willie’s being The Willingdon Club. When I tried to feign busyness, he would ask me what I was busy with. And on hearing, he would promptly put me in place by reminding me that the share price of my client would either go up or crash, irrespective of what I did in Express Towers. Or to not think that I was saving the world. And so, I would keep my date at 6:45. Willie’s would take on many other names like Bombay Gym, or Opium Den, or Gallops, or Copper Chimney, or Woodside Inn, or The Harbour Bar. But the hour of 6:45 was a constant. 6:45 at Willie’s? then became a WhatsApp text once he retired in 2016. This date of ours, on an average, would be a once in 3-4 months scene. This practice continued right down to early February 2024, i.e. last month, when I last met him. At Willie’s. Little did I know then that it would be the last time …

It has been hard to reconcile to the fact that “6:45 at Willie’s?” is a text I am never going to receive again. Damn!

This quote I picked up from the Instagram story of one of Fali’s Fans (our small WhatsApp group is called that). It is exactly how Fali led his life.

Be braver. Be kinder.

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Watching some really good content was another thing Fali did, especially post retirement. We would often exchange notes on what we were currently watching. Of all the series that we exchanged notes on if there is one that I will pick to share for Keep Watching this time, it will be Slow Horses. To me, Jackson Lamb (Gary Oldman’s character) is the closest to how Fali was - except, of course, in the sartorial and general hygiene department. The way Jackson Lamb is an organisation man in spite of being shunned by the organisation (a fate that Fali, fortunately, never had to suffer), the way he unearths gold in a bunch of (seeming) losers who form his team, the way he backs them, stands by them, the way he berates them often insultingly (something Fali never did), but above all the way he ‘senses’ his team’s state of mind and ensures it is addressed in his own inimitable way are all classic Fali.

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Slow Horses are outcast MI5 agents who have screwed up in their missions and are relegated to inconsequential menial jobs. In this case, however, they find themselves (unwittingly) in the thick of a high profile case that involves members of a fringe right wing Brit group who have kidnapped a Muslim student. It soon becomes evident that things are not what they seem and the highest centres of power are involved in the conspiracy. Eager to prove that they’re as good as, if not better than, the dogs (MI5 field agents), the slow horses soon enough outpace and outthink the dogs. The famed Brit dry, dark and cynical wit is amply evident, especially from the head of the slow horses team - an unkempt, boozing and chain smoking Gary Oldman (brilliant). The 6-episode plot starts off at a meandering pace initially, but gallops at breakneck speed thanks to the slow horses, making the title a bit of a misnomer. 4*

Carrying forward the excellent legacy of S1, S2 sees one of the slow horses’ ex-agent die on a bus. Not entirely convinced that it’s just a heart attack, Team Slow Horses gets into action mode to nail down the perpetrator. Only to find that a mythical Russian undercover agent team is for real and actually behind it. Deploying one diversionary tactic after another the Russians keep the slow horses trotting from one clue to another only to find that it’s all subterfuge and that the real boss and the real agenda is quite different from what they, and we, are led to believe. Once again the brilliant intellect of the Slow Horses’ boss - superbly played by Gary Oldman - is what saves the day. The rest of the team of slow horses is competent as usual.

I never got around to writing my short review for S3 which I watched recently. But rest assured the Slow Horses are doing everything but slowing down in the latest season.

Slow Horses | Apple TV+