What’s the Plan for Kopa Mall, Yash?
“What’s the plan for Kopa Mall, Yash?”
My colleague asked casually yesterday.
I blinked, still staring at my screen. “What do you mean?”
She looked at me like I’d missed the obvious. “The event’s just three weeks away.”
Funny timing. Just that morning, someone had called asking me how kids’ mall events should evolve. Not sure why they asked me—I’m not a child (unless picking my nose and aiming boogers into an imaginary hoop qualifies me), and I’m no retail wizard either. But I gave my two cents anyway.
I told them the truth:
Retail is no longer just a location. It’s a feeling.
People don’t wander into malls the way they used to. You’ve got to earn that footfall now. Not with balloons and leaflets—but with something they can’t scroll past.
Immersive experiences. Hands-on discovery. Something tactile, surprising, unforgettable.
So when my colleague asked about the Kopa event, I wasn’t caught off guard like a clueless intern who forgot to send a client pitch. I was thinking about it all day. What surprised me wasn’t when we’d start—but how far we were willing to go.
Back Then, Malls Were the Plan
In college, going to the mall was the outing. A Sunday ritual. We’d nurse a coffee for hours—extra sugar, extra ice, extra whipped cream—and chat like we were important. 500 bucks, two drinks, infinite stories. One time, I drank mine so slow, the coffee split into layers. Looked like a failed chemistry experiment. Hydrocaffeinic acid.
Post-college, malls turned into places of gifting. New shirts, maybe a dress. But post-Covid? We stopped going.
Two reasons.
One: everything is online.
Two: we’re tired—and we don’t like admitting it.
Does that mean malls are dying? Not quite. But the playbook has changed.
Today, there’s a festival every weekend. A new brand every scroll. Too many options. Too little connection.
So We Went with What We Knew Best
Science.
Not the textbook kind. The hands-on, curiosity-filled, make-your-own-magic kind.
Instead of setting up a stall, we created a full-blown Science Festival.
Eight+ activities—slime, laser mazes, invisible ink messages, mini circuits.
Stuff kids could build, break, take home.
Stuff that made parents look up and say, “Wait, that’s actually cool.”
We didn’t wait for the crowd. We called it.
Three weeks before launch, our team hit the phones.
We reached out to schools, old clients, teachers. Not a flyer. A conversation.
Ten schools signed up in week one. I personally visited academies and handed out invites. A little gesture. A big shift.
And Then… the Crowd Came
First weekend: 1000+ kids.
Not just passing through—but staying, building, laughing, learning.
The mall wasn’t buzzing with discounts.
It was buzzing with curiosity.
By the end of four weekends, we’d drawn over 2000 children, 5000+ parents—and an entirely new audience who didn’t come to shop. They came to experience it.
Mall management asked us to extend. The audience asked for more.
We didn’t run a campaign.
We sparked a memory—of what learning used to feel like.
Of what Sundays could feel like again.
And maybe, just maybe, we reminded people that you don’t need screens to be amazed.
Just a spark of wonder, and something real to hold on to.
Curious how we pulled it off? Here’s our full activation blueprint.
(And maybe, the beginning of your next mall revolution.)