Rediffusion Sonny

Sonny Deenadayalan: He is a vague memory from the Rediffusion days in 2000. Sonny makes for a great first impression: he is tall and Dravidian dark, hair sticks on its end like bristles, a lean long face, dressed mostly in jeans over a half-sleeve shirt in bright checks, and a mouth that drips honey. He talks Queen’s English with perfect accent, not a foul word would escape him. And when I found that I was in his team, I was overjoyed at first.

Rediffusion was the agency for Citibank and it was a curse that never slackened every day, and every hour of my stint. It is marriage of two elephants; one a monolith and as international and a hierarchy longer than the number of carriages of a superfast train. So an advertising layout would go through each layer and each one had to offer a suggestion or critique to justify their existence. It’s that typical glib talking crowd at Citibank and it is here that Sonny found his mark.

Sonny knew more about Citibank than their staff at Madras. He knew all the international guidelines of colours to be used, logo size, and half a dozen details that are mandatory. If “Sauvé” needs a human representation, it would be Sonny. He kept everyone – the whole hierarchy of executives at the Bank, the Branch Manager at the agency, the production guys, and even the mercurial Umita in good humour; a task no less Sisyphean.

The entire office on Shakti Towers smelled like that of a Congress party; there were rumours floating everywhere, people were getting chopped and sliced that not many survived the first 3 months (I certainly didn’t!!), gossip and tantrums. Just walking into office at 10 in the morning and you could sense a war waiting to erupt and a head about to be severed; frankly I have not seen an office that bode so much ill-will even when silent. But Sonny not only survived here but thrived too. He must do well in hell too.

Sonny was my reporting boss and he was quite co-operative one initially. Payal, a junior executive was his favourite, he went out of his way to shield her. She was a bright woman herself and ensured that she was not harassed by the system. As for me, I never fitted into the mould – I neither appealed to the client nor my tummy take kindly to Umita’s outbursts- and soon drifted to such a depression that my own words started to come in sputters and sounded alien to the ears. I was crumbling and sensibly walked out of the place.  

Sonny carried that elegance even in his cabin; they would be table lamp with a shade, nice choice curtains, some paintings, and even a tape recorder when the man was in a mood for music. We all worked long hours in humouring the client though the work we did was meager and mediocre. Sonny had worked in Far East and with that clipped American accent there was a feminine streak him; metrosexual. He was man who was punctilious in sending bouquets to his wife on her birthday, wedding day, and Valentines. I would often overhear him cochie-cooeing on the phone, “Nands (westernized for Nandini!!!), did you get that from the bakery?” Sonny is frightfully western to the last gene and so much so that his original name “Venkatesh Deenadayalan” had officially changed to “Sonny Deenadayalan”. And when he spoke in Tamil it sounded as if from a Yankee’s lips.

He resides in Thiruvanmiyur and I frequently see him on his Kinetic Honda (things like that add to the feminine touch!!) but I don’t stop to recognize and greet. There is a washed up feeling about the man but as a survivor he was supremely gifted. If you planning a Sahara expedition or to the Antarctic, I would heartily recommend the bloke. 

Verdict: Rajas

Lesson to be learnt: Corporate Survival Skills.