On 19 December I made a choice that every parent secretly fears admitting to.

My child was performing at school. Day two.

And I chose to attend Prasoon Joshi’s Lifetime Achievement Award instead.

Before you judge me, let me explain.

I have known Prasoon for 25 years. I met him in 1999, when a young man moved from Delhi to Mumbai and joined Ogilvy. Intense eyes, restless, chewing gum or maybe mukhwas, staring at people’s faces, often looking slightly lost. It took me some time to realise that the look was not confusion. It was poetry happening internally.

Very early in his career, he wrote a song for the polio campaign. It was so powerful that even the toughest advertising minds felt it deserved more than airtime. Piyush Pandey and the team turned it into history. Polio Mukta Bharat was not just a campaign. It was poetry disguised as persuasion.

That poet never left him.

Last week, when Prasoon stood on stage to receive his Lifetime Achievement Award, he did not give a speech. He performed. For nearly an hour. It was part memoir, part masterclass, part poetry recital. He spoke about advertising, cinema, people, journeys, friendships and failures. Then, without warning, he spoke about artificial intelligence.

And this is where only Prasoon could do what Prasoon did.

He told a story. Three friends meet. Two are old school friends. One is new. The new friend hears one of them sing beautifully and says, “You sing so well.” The old friend is shocked. He says, “Twenty years ago, this fellow could not sing at all. Where did you get this idea from?” Prasoon smiled and said, “That old friend is data. The new friend is AI. Data knows who you were. AI only knows who you are now.”

It was funny. It was sharp. It was frighteningly insightful. And it landed perfectly.

Someone once said, “Jo na dekhe Ravi, woh dekhe Kavi.”
If that line ever needed proof, that evening was it.

Many people do not know this, but Prasoon is an excellent singer. Fewer know that he has an astonishing grasp of Marathi poetry. He knows Marathi songs by heart. One lazy afternoon, without warning, he sang a Bhimsen Joshi composition perfectly. No lyrics sheet. No preparation.

Then he said something even more interesting. He said when you practice, you must sit in front of a mirror. Because certain notes need certain facial expressions. Sometimes you look completely ridiculous. But the audience sees you before they hear you. So you must rehearse your face along with your voice.

It sounded funny. It was also profound. I learnt something new that day. Small riyaz matters. Even if nobody is watching.

Prasoon also has some mischievous poetry. The kind you only hear if you have earned his trust. There is probably a secret book somewhere. You do not ask for it. He opens it when he wants to.

Officially, Prasoon is a Padma Shri awardee. He has chaired the Censor Board of India. He has served on the McCann Worldwide board. He now sits on Omnicom’s global board.

Unofficially, he is something rarer. A man who never let the poet inside him die.

In an industry that often confuses money for meaning, Prasoon chose meaning first and somehow got success anyway. He smuggled poetry into advertising, emotion into strategy, and humanity into systems. There is still fire in his belly. Still chamak in his eyes. And when he looks distracted while listening to you, do not fall for it. He knows exactly what he is doing.

Travel with him abroad and you understand his reach. In New York, strangers ask him for photographs. Advertising professionals whisper, “Who is this man?” People with bigger titles stand nearby unnoticed, while Prasoon quietly becomes the celebrity.

Hard work did that. Passion did that. Madness did that.

My friend Gayatri Yadav said that night, “Picture abhi baaki hai, mere dost.”

I believe it.

Prasoon is not done. Not as a marketer. Not as a friend. Not as a poet. His songs and films are woven into my family’s pop culture and into my life’s background score. Outside advertising, he may well be the most recognisable advertising man India has produced.

And that is why, on that evening, I chose to be there.

Because some performances truly are once in a lifetime.

Raj Kamble is founder and CCO, Famous Innovations.