Parle-G wasn't just nostalgia, it was our middle class childhood scrapbook

For father, a cup of piping hot tea, received eagerly. For us, mugs of warm milk, received with almost gratuitous frowns. The morning is underway, these little rituals playing out against the other auditory markers of the hour: speedy neighbouring kids already dressed up in their ironed uniforms (today, they would be giving the rest of us slovenly kids #MorningGoals), the door-to-door sabziwala/fishseller hollering his wares till kingdom come, grandpas and grandmas inching their way towards the welcoming sun.

To us, however, the strictly utilitarian feral kids of the '90s, the morning was evaluated on the basis of how many biscuits we could scarf down without mother calling us out for it. And for me, like it was the case for many of us, the biscuit of choice was Parle-G.

It was the answer to Life, the Universe and Everything Else. It was the answer to Monday morning lunchbox blues. It was the antidote to sleep-inducing mathematics lectures.

It was the marker of new friendships forged during recess. It was comfort food much before we knew what that meant.

A couple of days ago, it was confirmed that the Ville Parle factory in Mumbai (synonymous with the biscuits) is shutting down, prompting several groans of disbelief across social media.

There are a lot of brands that inspire fierce loyalty, but brands like Parle-G tap into something that goes beyond first-degree (I like it, ergo I will buy it) loyalty. They tap into nostalgia.

And it is nostalgia one feels when you look at the iconic Parle-G girl illustration on the biscuit packet, cherubic, ageless and providing the kind of spatio-temporal fixity that few things offer in the post-internet era.

Also read - Why India hasn't stopped bathing with Mysore Sandal Soap for 100 years

She makes you feel like you're still eating those biscuits on the sly, sneaking them into your uniform pockets. And who can forget the Parle-ji puns?

Indeed, some of the first TV ads for Parle-G utilised this fairly obvious pun. In one of them, there is, predictably, a dadaji who exclaims, much to the delight of his grandson and granddaughter, that Parle-G is the "right" biscuit for everyone in the family, from mummyji to daddyji and finally, dadaji himself.

It's a genteel, polite picture being painted here, a world where children use the honorific "ji" without being asked to.

Parle-G being a children's brand, the adverts had to keep up with the times. And so, if you look at a modern-day ad, the polite children have been politely relegated to the background.

It's now time for the rebels to step into the fray, the outliers, the lateral thinkers.

In an ad which used to air in 2012 and 2013, we are told "Bachpan se bada koi school nahi. Curiosity se badi koi teacher nahi (There's no school greater than childhood. There's no teacher greater than curiosity.) "

The ad sees kids engaged in a variety of problem-solving endeavours: powering a toy with a potato cell system, for instance, or using a moped's ignition to inflate balloons. From being an inculcator of traditional family values, Parle-G morphed into an agent of change.

The biscuit was about "swaad" (taste) but it was also about "shakti", (strength), right from day one. The new direction was simply about a different kind of "shakti", that's all.

Somewhere along the line, the makers realised that these children had now grown up and were young, confident professionals in their own right, struggling to make it in a world forever resistant to change.

In 2015's "Shaayar Kehta Hai" TV ad for Parle-G, we see a rare meta-scenario for Indian advertising: it shows a group of copywriters trying to come up with a catchy slogan for the biscuits.

When the smell of fresh tea brewing hits the youngsters, ideas start to bounce and they keep playing the word association game: what does Parle-G mean to them?

A look at the motley crew of answers tells you everything you need to know about Parle-G's hold on the middle-class psyche. "Keechad mein ghoomna", "Shaakhon se latakna", "Bhajia ka swaad", "Maa ka aashirwad", "Sachin ki centuries", "Bachchan ki "haayein?". In short, a middle-class childhood scrap book.

Here's to the Parle-G girl: synecdoche, cherub and keeper-at-bay of hunger pangs. May she live long and prosper!