Fahad Bombaywala’s journey into advertising began in 2008 when he joined Adcom, where the industry’s fixation on flashy aesthetics over meaningful substance quickly caught his attention.

“It was a time when advertising was obsessed with what looked good,” he recalls. “Advertising in Pakistan is often behind the curve. It reflects a society designed to keep people ignorant, unaware and dehumanised.”

This is not just an abstract criticism; it is personal. “I remember working on Safeguard in 2011, and we had to use the Urdu word jaraseem instead of ‘germs’ because marketers thought people would not understand the English term. It’s a small example, but it shows how low we set the bar.” The mediocrity did not sit well with Bombaywala.

At the time, he believed that the solution lay in controlling quality. “I thought if we could centralise authority to regulate advertising, we could overcome mediocrity.” Inspired by India’s National Design Institute, he pitched the idea of a federal design cell to oversee Pakistan’s advertising and government communications, convinced that control was the answer. He envisioned this body as the solution to Pakistan’s fragmented and subpar advertising scene. “There were too many small agencies producing mediocre work. I thought if we could control the output, we could improve the quality.”

That mindset, however, began to unravel when he pursued a master’s in philosophy. “Philosophy made me question everything – the system, authority and the role of advertising in dumbing down the public. It was liberating.” His exploration of pragmatism and critical theory led him to rethink the notion that creativity could be regulated. “I realised that control is an illusion. Creativity thrives in freedom, not in restriction.”

This intellectual transformation led him to reject the notion that advertising should be a top-down endeavour. He saw that the authoritarian mindset he once clung to was not only limiting creativity – it was complicit in perpetuating a culture of mediocrity. “The more I understood philosophy, the more I saw how power dynamics play out in every industry, especially in advertising. It is not about dictating the narrative; it is about opening up space for ideas to breathe.”

As his views on creativity evolved, so did his understanding of censorship, a constant force in Pakistan’s media landscape. Over the years, he has been no stranger to censorship battles. One of the most significant was his work on the Embrace pads campaign. In a country where menstruation remains a taboo subject, advertising had long relied on blue liquid to symbolise blood, a subtle way of avoiding discomfort. However, Bombaywala was not interested in perpetuating that silence. “I pushed to use red liquid instead of blue. Why are we ashamed to show periods as they are?”

The campaign was met with immediate backlash and banned from airing on TV; critics arguing it was too graphic for mainstream media. Yet, the ban had the opposite effect – it made the campaign more popular online. “Young women took to YouTube to defend the ad, saying it was time to stop hiding behind euphemisms. The ban actually helped the conversation grow, showing that sometimes censorship backfires.”

This experience was not new to Bombaywala. He faced similar resistance with his Defence Day campaign, an independent project he uploaded on YouTube. The campaign challenged the state’s narrative that Pakistan’s defence was the sole responsibility of its military, instead spotlighting citizens like Malala Yousafzai, Abdul Sattar Edhi and Iqbal Masih – figures who fought for education, humanity and justice on the ground. “I wanted to show that Pakistan’s true defenders are its people, not only its soldiers.” The video went viral, garnering more views than official ISPR content that year. “The response showed me that people want alternative stories and real heroes.”

These campaigns reflect his commitment to challenging norms entrenched in Pakistan’s labyrinthine society, and Bombaywala’s work has increasingly taken on a socio-political dimension. As ECD at M&C Saatchi Group, he manages the agency’s offices in Lahore and Islamabad, working on campaigns that span consumer brands and development projects alike. But it is his work with international organisations and non-profits that has had the most profound impact. “We have done campaigns on polio for UNICEF, family planning initiatives, and anti-terrorism work in Afghanistan. These are not just ads; they are issues that matter.”

Bombaywala’s work on the polio campaign in particular stands out. “We worked on the polio campaign at a time when paranoia and hysteria around vaccines was rampant. Communicating to people in a way that respects their intelligence, while cutting through the fear, was a real challenge.” It was a challenge he embraced, navigating the delicate balance between public health messaging and the cultural sensitivities that surrounded it.

Bombaywala’s appetite for pushing boundaries extends beyond traditional media. His involvement with 365 Digital, a relatively new digital platform, has allowed him to explore these ideas further. He was tasked with rebranding the channel and used this opportunity to push the boundaries of what digital media could do. “At 365, we were not just creating shows; we were creating a platform where uncomfortable conversations could happen.” Through 365, he developed content that subtly pushed against censorship norms while still toeing the lines of restrictions and regulations on public discourse. “You have to be clever about it. Sometimes, you can’t directly confront the boundaries, but you can push them just enough that people start thinking differently.”

Navigating these tensions is a constant. On the one hand, Bombaywala has collaborated with the government on campaigns; on the other, he has repeatedly found himself at odds with the same structures, pushing back against the censorship that defines Pakistan’s media environment. “There is always this tug-of-war between what you are allowed to say and what needs to be said. Like any form of media, advertising is a tool for controlling narratives. But it can also be a tool for challenging them.”

That belief drives much of his work today – using advertising not just to sell products, but to question the assumptions that underpin society. “I have had ads blocked because they were deemed too rebellious, but that is part of the job. I am not interested in creating work that just pleases the elites in the industry or the establishment. I want to create stories that live beyond their campaigns.”

Despite the pressures of his career, Bombaywala remains grounded in his personal life. He often reflects on the balance between work and family, particularly the challenges of raising his two young sons. “It was tough when my first son was born because I was just starting in advertising. But now, with my second, I have the luxury of being more present.” This balance between personal and professional life is something he has come to value, particularly in an industry known for its relentless pace.

Looking back at his career, he sees a clear evolution – from a control-obsessed young adman to a reflective creative who believes in the power of letting go. “Philosophy made me question the need for control. It taught me that the best ideas come from discomfort and freedom.” Yet, despite the intellectual depth that drives his work, he remains pragmatic about the practicalities of advertising. “At the end of the day, you are speaking to people, not just selling to them. You have to respect your audience. Whether it is an ad for a consumer brand or a campaign for public health, the goal is the same: to communicate something real, something that matters.”

In a field where mediocrity often thrives under the guise of creativity, he stands apart as someone unafraid to push the boundaries. As he continues to shape the narratives of brands, development projects, and public health campaigns, his focus remains on telling stories that matter. “If your work doesn’t make people uncomfortable, then you are not doing anything meaningful,” Fahad Bombaywala concludes.