Management tips from magicians

Stumbling across a beloved children’s magazine online brought to mind lessons that help navigate a world full of modern dragons.

The Art Of War by Sun Tzu. That book, possessed of supposedly almost career-changing skills, which if people are to be believed, I should keep a copy on my bedside table to refer to on a regular basis to help me tread the ruthless world of corporate culture. For when I switched from an over-decade long career in journalism to a role in content marketing, everyone kept throwing the word ‘strategy’ at me. Other equally helpful friends sent me their book recommendations, listing authors who ranged from Jim Walsh to Taiichi Ohno, Steve Jobs, or even Deepak Chopra for a more holistic perspective. I bit down the urge to tell them that navigating the often treacherous waters of publishing was proof of my survival skills. But obediently, I set aside time to learn from these gurus.

Now, while all these pages revealed nuggets of information that I carefully stored away to use when needed, I realised that I had already come across a lot of what all of them were trying to say — from when I was five years old, in fact. The source — an old Indian magazine called Chandamama. As a child who always had her head buried in books, I loved my weekend visits to my grandfather’s house, for apart from meeting him and the rest of the family, my granduncle, who also stayed there, had a subscription to Chandamama. The magazine was available in English and 14 other regional languages, and was founded by B Nagi Reddy and Aluri Chakrapani in 1947, and once boasted of contributors like Mulk Raj Anand and Ruskin Bond. So, before I even said hello, much to the dismay of my mum, I would demand it, and would sit down to wholly escape into this fantastic world, utterly fascinated.

So many takeaways

The pages were filled with history, mythology, adventure, heroics, and folklore, and proved to be both enthralling and educational. Here, Indian kings and queens would come alive; some wise, others cruel. I met learned men, I met frightening men; I met women who could strategise with the best of them and women who knew how to use ancient arts to their advantage. I met animals who were wiser than the stars, and vampires who tried to confound kings. Legends, myths, and morals came alive through those pages, which was also cleverly interspersed with trivia, facts, and general knowledge, and the qualities of generosity, valour, sacrifice, honour, and honesty were explained beautifully.

As for the takeaways, from the tales of wise King Vikram, to the stories of astute men like Tenali Rama and Gopal Bhand, it had characters who came alive through prose and illustrations. It was, by far, the best way to learn about staying focused on goals, not losing sight of the big picture, and understanding how the human mind works. At every stage of life, I’ve found that the lessons I learnt here have trumped all others, even when it comes to management.

For instance, a key insight that helped me all through my school years was the advantage of thinking quickly on my feet, courtesy Birbal, the quick-witted advisor in the court of the Mughal emperor, Akbar. I confess I might have used this to get out of chores I hated, but when it came to jobs, it held me in good stead in the fast-paced, overwhelming world of magazines where deadlines are sacrosanct and challenges, many.

The splendid Vikram Vetala tales about the king who managed to outfox the devious vampire Vetala were a firm favourite. The devil is really in the details, and I found that following instructions carefully, delving deep into understanding the intricacies of case studies and learning to find a solution even when the task seems impossible, were lessons that proved invaluable during my college years. Imagine my surprise when I later learnt that some organisations do, in fact, use a management training method called the Vikram & Vetala method, based on these clever tales.

Cult following

I eventually grew up and forgot about this much-loved subscription; and a wave of scandal, which followed a software services company that had bought a 94 per cent stake in the magazine, ensured it died a painful death. This was, of course, until I had to survive in a corporate world, and the lessons came rushing back. What’s more, during the lockdown, I discovered the magazine still had its share of cult followers who have digitized the editions and made them available for all to read online. I’ve since spent many a happy hour digitally poring over old favourites, and discovering even better, even older ones for the first time. The change in the medium does take some getting used to; try as I might, it’s difficult to match reading on a tablet with the sheer pleasure of holding the actual magazine in one’s hands.

Though I have for some years now boasted an e-library of books that rivals my physical shelf, when it comes to this magazine, the wait for the actual copy was what added to the joy of reading them as a child. But, what doesn’t change is the fact that just like when I was a little girl, I am once again transported to this adventurous world, and am reminded of the wisdom that lies within its pages, or rather, its web pages.