Whodunnit?

I saw a film the other day. A lovely piece of work. Emotive, poetic, made you want to hug your mother, call your therapist, and buy that wretched product .. all at once.

But I wasn’t watching the film as much as I was reading the credits.

But man .. the credits! What a scroll of honour! Or perhaps dishonour, depending on which side of the meeting room you sit.

They rolled on like the Chinese dynasty, one grand title after another.

The Supreme Creative Lord. The Emperor of Imagination. The Maharaja of Mood Boards.

The Executive Regional National Global Intergalactic Creative Director (West Zone). The Senior Junior Intern Assistant who once held the coffee cup of the guy who got the brief. By the time they were done thanking the driver’s dog for not barking during the shoot, I had forgotten what the film was about.

Now don’t mistake me, I’m all for teamwork. India won the World Cup with 11 players, not just Tendulkar swinging his bat like Jesus with a headache.

But somewhere in this parade of self-importance, I found myself asking a rather impertinent question...

Whose bloody idea was it?

Not the polished one. Not the script that survived 47 rounds of feedback, 8 PowerPoint decks, and a “let’s just add a celeb” moment from the client’s wife. I’m talking about the spark. The whisper in the storm. That scrappy, fragile little thought that first crawled out of someone’s tired brain on a rainy Tuesday when the brief had just landed and nobody wanted to be there.

You know the one ...“I have an idea,” that someone mumbled, chewing their pen cap, half-lost in despair. And suddenly, everyone sat up like a class that just heard the word “free period.” Yep, that person. That moment. That creative sneeze that turned into a storm.

What happened to them?

Vanished. Disappeared. Eaten alive by the hierarchy. Buried under a pile of titles so dense, you’d need an archaeological dig to uncover them.

Its more tragic than I want it to be... In this age when AI can churn out taglines faster than your copywriter can order a latte, we are quietly killing the human behind the idea.

No, I’m not calling for patents or pompous awards. Just a line. A whisper. A nod.

Somewhere.. even if in font size 2, tucked in the corner like a guilty pleasure .. just write this:

“Original idea by So-and-So”.

Because when you pretend no one had the idea, when you make creativity a collective fog, you send a dangerous message. Nobody matters. Nothing matters. Just smile and sign off the next version.

And when the thinkers stop thinking, what are we left with? A brochure written by a bot, selling a shampoo with the emotional depth of cardboard.

We need our thinkers. Our mad geniuses. The one who sees poetry in a detergent. The one who turns a brief into a battle cry.

So, dear agency folk, brand managers, and those who believe fonts are more important than feelings ... I leave you with this thought:

 “A nation that forgets its poets ends up governed by Excel sheets.” - (That’s mine. You can quote me.)