In the Wonderland of Indian Managers

Imagine Alice tumbling into a corporate rabbit hole where promotions hinge on tea-time gossip and training programs produce more confusion than competence. That's the wonderland Sharu Rangnekar maps in this slim, savage volume. Published in 1973, it dissects the 'inbuilt idiocies and idiosyncrasies' of Indian management: recruitment rituals that favor nepotism over talent, probation periods stretched into purgatory, and boardroom decisions dictated by hierarchy rather than evidence. Rangnekar's prose is lean and lethal, spotting hypocrisies that feel eerily familiar five decades on. Why does it matter? Because it reminds us that bad management isn't cultural destiny—it's a choice, often a lazy one.

Rangnekar structures his assault thematically: chapters on training, appraisals, and promotions read like dispatches from a madhouse. He doesn't just complain; he prescribes fixes, from merit-based hiring to clear communication chains (imagine that). The real genius lies in his pairing with R.K. Laxman's cartoons—those iconic 'Common Man' sketches amplify the satire, turning abstract folly into visual farce. A manager nodding off during a lecture? Laxman nails it. Readers in 1973 must have winced with recognition; today's cubicle warriors will too. It's proof that good nonfiction thrives on specificity: no vague platitudes here, just named absurdities.

What elevates this beyond mere rant? Rangnekar's insider cred—he knew the trenches, from trainee to director levels. His solutions aren't pie-in-the-sky; they're pragmatic, like decentralizing decisions to kill the 'file-pushing' culture. The book targets all ranks, democratizing its wisdom. In an era of breathless management tomes promising disruption, Rangnekar's restraint shines: he demands evidence from traditions, not blind faith. (Parenthetically: why do so many business books skip this step?) It's a model for cultural criticism that punches without preaching.

Yet here's the rub—and my sharpest reservation: datedness dulls the blade. Written pre-liberalization, it misses globalization's shake-up, multinational influences, and tech-driven shifts that have (somewhat) modernized Indian firms. References to government enterprises and family businesses feel archival, not urgent. Worse, the humor, while dry, occasionally veers repetitive—same idiocy, different department. At 134 pages, it could trim 20% without loss. Laxman's cartoons, timeless as they are, can't fully compensate for the era gap. Still, in a post-pandemic world of hybrid absurdities, its spirit holds.

Rangnekar's wonderland endures because it flips the familiar: Indian management isn't 'unique' or 'charming'—it's fixable farce. For business readers weary of optimistic drivel, this is antidote. It matters now, as startups ape old hierarchies and executives chase fads over fundamentals. Read it for the laughs, stay for the quiet revolution it urges. In nonfiction, sentence craft signals thought rigor; Rangnekar delivers. Your next performance review? Approach with new suspicion.