e Magus

  This Diwali holidays, apart from the regular cleaning of the house, I also spent time clearing out old files, an archive of past pitch decks/presentations, from my laptop to save space. As I went through these remnants of previous efforts, one thing became clear: the pitches that resonated most with clients and were successful, were those that was anecdotal rather than data-heavy. Rather than charts, graphs, and research reports that dominated the slides, it was structured narratives, telling a story that clients connected with. What kept me thinking was, why do we instinctively lean towards stories, and why do stories often win over data? Our everyday interactions offer clues. Stories, whether in advertising, news, or casual conversations, are more memorable and engaging than standalone facts. Psychologists have long suggested that humans are “wired” for stories. Studies such as those by Daniel Kahneman, author of Thinking, Fast and Slow , reveal the power of heuristic biases—mental

It’s Diwali time, and most brands release festival films that aim to capture the spirit of the festival, their brand essence, and oodles of emotions in their storytelling. One such film I came across is the new Parle G Biscuits Diwali ad (link here ). The film tries to revive cherished memories of traditional Diwali celebrations, which are often lost in today’s ‘instant’ world. Yet, the brand fit feels forced, especially with the image of a boy carrying a pack of biscuits that stands out awkwardly. And somewhat abruptly, the ad transitions into a message about finding happiness in the happiness of others. But, looking at the YouTube comments and the number of views (13+ Million in the last count)…the film seem to pull the right chords. What struck me, however, was an unspoken idea the ad triggered—the idea of waiting. Maybe my recent article on the ‘weight’ of communication subconsciously resurfaced, nudging me to reflect on how we are losing the fine art of waiting. Waiting, once an

How Weight Influences Perception and Engagement in Communication In the world of advertising, the debate between traditional and digital media has become almost as enduring as the mediums themselves. While digital platforms increasingly dominate the contemporary landscape, many industry veterans still swear by the effectiveness of print ads, direct mailers, and other tangible forms of communication. Their reasoning might not simply be nostalgia or a Neo-Luddite behaviour —it could hinge on something more substantial: the weight of the medium itself. I remember as a child, my mother used to judge the quality and perceived usefulness of kitchenware—typically stainless steel—often by its weight. The same held true for furniture or household items; heavier meant better. Even plumper children were once considered "healthier." Seen through a different lens, the concept of weight as a proxy for value shows up in the metaphor “penny wise, pound foolish.” Beyond the monetary differenc

It was a delayed flight—a rather ordinary event in the course of an ordinary day—that gave me the time to reflect. The sight around me was typical of any airport lobby: faces buried in screens, couple of overworked executives busy on their laptops, a few weary heads nodding off, and snatches of conversations filling the air. Among these was a father’s gentle voice explaining to his son that life is like a journey, much like the flight we were about to take. The comparison was simple, even obvious, but it stuck with me. Why do we so often think of life as a journey? This metaphor, at first glance, is instinctive. Life starts at birth and ends at death—one long stretch, seemingly linear, from point A to point B. We speak of careers as journeys, with "journeyman" once being a common term for someone still learning their craft, moving from one stage to another. Life has lot of adjective icons: roadmaps , milestones , break-ups, crossroads , and destinations . But is life really t

We often hear that necessity is the mother of invention. Perhaps it's time to recognise that convenience is its father. In today’s hyper-connected, on-demand world, convenience is no longer just a feature—it's the driving force behind most modern innovations. The desire to simplify life, minimise effort, and enhance ease has woven itself into the very fabric of our daily existence. Cultural evolution has long been shaped by geography, religion, language, and shared history. But over the last few decades, an unanticipated player entered the fray—technology. Where once culture developed slowly over generations, technology has accelerated this evolution. The printing press, which sparked the spread of ideas, religious movements, and democratic revolutions, was perhaps the first modern agent of mass cultural change. Suddenly, everything was accessible to everyone. Knowledge spread, education increased, scientific reasoning became the norm, etc. But the shift we’ve seen since then,

A few days ago , I encountered a beggar on the street, and a genuine instinct to help him arose. I reached into my pocket, only to find nothing—no coins, no small notes. I realised then that I hadn’t carried physical cash in a long time. Like many of us today, most of my transactions had shifted online. The tactile feel of money had quietly disappeared from my life.   This absence was a stark contrast to my childhood, when money wasn’t just an abstract means of exchange—it was something you could hold, touch, and count. Coins and notes were more than just currency; they carried weight, both literal and symbolic. As children, we were sent on errands with a few rupees, and those coins felt powerful. The act of handling money, of saving it in a clay piggy bank (We had a Mr. Potato Head bank), counting it on slow afternoons, gave a sense of responsibility. Each paisa had its place, each rupee was revered. In India, money has long been more than just a transactional tool—it is intertwined w