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Anand Sweets
A Bengaluru institution's first store outside the city. We planned the whole arrival — strategy, films, radio, hoardings, creators, guest list, opening day — so Mysuru met it as one of its own.
Anand Sweets had spent decades becoming part of Bengaluru — the box you carry to a wedding, the name on the Diwali table. Mysuru was the first step beyond, and Mysuru doesn't hand out belonging. It has its own sweet shops, its own loyalties, and a quiet way of letting a Bengaluru brand know it's a guest.
A loud launch would have said "the famous brand is here." Mysuru would have heard "the outsider is here." The brief wasn't a campaign. It was an entrance.
We started where every launch should and most don't: with the city, not the brand. Who in Mysuru decides what's worth queuing for? Where does word travel — the market, the temple road, the morning radio, the WhatsApp family group? Which faces does the city trust?
From that came one principle for everything: don't tell Mysuru who we are, show Mysuru that we know who it is. Then a launch plan built in layers — online to create the question, offline to make it unavoidable, people to make it personal, and one day to bring it all into a single queue.
The brand name holds the Kannada word for joy. The campaign line came from inside it: Ananda Aagthaide — joy is happening. A greeting, a hashtag, a jingle, a hoarding. Never once says Bengaluru. Underneath it: Nanna Mysuru. My Mysuru.
Five short films, one character. Anand walks Mysuru as a Mysurean: the market before dawn, the hill, the palace at night, the streets you know by shortcut. Real Mysureans on camera, not actors. The city is the hero; the brand stays in the background. In the fifth film, Anand chooses to stay. Released in sequence so Mysuru asked the question before anyone answered it.
Hoardings on the routes the city actually drives. Kannada radio carrying the jingle through the morning commute. Scripts written in Mysuru's register, not Bengaluru's. If you lived in the city that fortnight, you heard Ananda Aagthaide before you knew what it was for.
A two-tier influencer strategy. Mysuru creators first: the ones the city already follows, telling it in their own voice, so it never felt imported. Then Bengaluru creators brought to Mysuru, so the brand's existing audience watched its own city's favourite arrive somewhere new. Local trust, outside reach, in that order.
A guest list built for the city, not for the brand: Mysuru's own faces, families and press in the room. Vijay Prakash — a son of Mysuru — cut the ribbon. Not a celebrity visiting a store; a Mysurean welcoming a brand home. Run to the minute, from arrivals to the first box handed over the counter.
The queue outside on day one was the first proof. The second came a month later, when Anand Sweets asked us back for the anniversary campaign. The third came after that, when they asked us to take them to Hosur.
The work
