I began my career at Enterprise, where I met my first copy partner, Abhijit Avasthi, known to everyone as Kinu.

Kinu, Piyush's nephew, lived with Piyush Pandey at Malabar Hill, and that’s how I first met him.

I went there one evening with Kinu, not knowing that I was walking into a friendship that would change my life.

In Marathi culture, anyone older is automatically family. So when Kinu called him Mama, I did too.

From that day on, for the next three decades, he was always Piyush Mama to me.

He never made anyone feel like they worked for him. You always worked with him. He had a gift for making people feel like they belonged, no matter who they were or where they came from.

There are a thousand stories I could tell, but one I’ll never forget is from Cannes, when he received the Lion of St. Mark (in 2018) the highest honour in our industry.

That evening was meant to be private, just family.

Mithila Saraf our CEO and I went to congratulate him, planning to stay a minute and leave quietly.

But he spotted us, smiled, and pulled us into his table like we were part of the family.

He spoke to us for 20 minutes, asking about our work, our lives, our dreams.

That was Piyush: large-hearted, spontaneous, many times silly, and endlessly curious.

Another time in Cannes, he saw me on the phone negotiating monies with a client. He took the phone from my hand and said, “Raj, if I ever hear you talk money with a client again, I’ll slap you. You’re a creative person. Don’t let money define your worth.”

It was said half in jest, half in truth but it stayed with me forever.

When I left BBH, he called me home. He offered me a role and a title, but what he really gave me was belief.

That was Piyush’s real gift. He didn’t just hire people. He built them.

I remember when I moved to London in the late nineties, Piyush and Prasoon came over one evening with their families. I didn’t drink, but I used to collect miniature alcohol bottles, more than a hundred of them.

They saw the collection and began teasing me. “Which one looks the worst?” they asked.

Every time I pointed to a bottle, they opened it, drank it, and laughed.

By the end of the night, half my collection was gone, but the laughter was worth every drop.

He loved my wife Pratibha’s bheja fry and Marathi mutton. He’d always ask for it and never forgot to thank her. He also never forgot her birthday and wished her every year. That was him: thoughtful, funny, and full of heart.

I once saw his eyes fill with tears while explaining an idea. He was that passionate about his work.

And when someone else had a better idea, he’d quietly keep his own aside and celebrate theirs. Ego never entered the room when Piyush was in it.

He wasn’t just a creative genius. He was a human genius. He didn’t just create campaigns. He created people.

I will miss his laughter, his hugs, and the way he could make everything feel okay just by being there.

Rest in peace, Piyush Pandey. You will always be family.

The author is founder and CCO, Famous Innovations.