In the heart of the Vindhya forest, the animals had long lived in harmony, thanks to the mighty Bhagirathi Dam—a rock-and-mud marvel built by the beavers, engineered by the elephants, and guarded by the crocodiles. Every summer, it released just enough water to keep the forest green, the streams humming, and the ponds full.

But one unusually dry year, the sky stayed empty. The monsoon was missing.

Cracks appeared in the dam’s edges. A tremor one night widened them. And then, one morning, with a sound that split the air like thunder, the dam gave way. Water surged and disappeared in hours. The ponds turned to mud. The air grew dry and anxious. Leaves curled. Wells dried. Fear spread.

Ellamma the elephant, once again, called a forest council.

She didn’t pretend things would get better on their own. “The dam is gone,” she said. “And there’s no rain in sight. We must act now.

Ulka the owl flew across the hills to study what remained. She returned with a dry truth: the upstream river had shifted course. Rebuilding the dam wasn’t enough - the water itself was gone.

The council gasped. This was no ordinary drought. It was a collapse of their entire system.

Bhairav the bear suggested rationing. “Let’s conserve what little we have. Share in shifts.

Madhavi the bee warned that the flowers were already dying. “We may not last if we only defend. We must explore.

Chatura the fox said what others were thinking but feared: “What if we relocate - temporarily - closer to the new riverbed?

A silence followed.

Tathagat the tortoise slowly nodded. “Our roots are here, yes. But we survive not because we stay still, but because we adapt.

And so began the migration - not a flight, but a plan. The younger monkeys mapped a trail to the distant river. The birds scouted shade. The porcupines helped dig tiny wells on the way. Even the stubborn peacocks agreed to walk.

They didn’t abandon their forest. They left guards, planted seeds, and stored what could be saved. And as they walked, they talked, taught, and sang songs to keep the little ones brave.

Weeks later, when the first rains returned - not much, but enough - the jungle was reborn. Not where it used to be, but near the new stream. The animals had bent, not broken. And from the dam’s ruins, they built a smarter irrigation path, this time with overflow channels, backup routes, and watchtowers.

The forest had lost its past - but gained a future.

Crisis-leadership lessons

  • Don’t deny the system is broken - acknowledge it.

  • Act fast with diverse, empowered teams.

  • Gather ground truths, not just assumptions.

  • Ration where needed, but also look forward.

  • Be open to unthinkable solutions - like relocation.

  • Carry your values with you, not just your structures.

  • Involve every voice - from scouts to elders.

  • Communicate with courage and empathy.

  • Use the crisis to build better systems, not repeat old ones.

  • Prepare to pivot, because no river flows forever.

This story is a subconscious reflection of my recent learnings from the ISB CTO program’s module on crisis management and the need to embrace change with clarity and courage.

In today’s fast-shifting world, especially with the rapid rise of AI and uncertainty about what the future holds, what truly sets us apart is not prediction, but preparation. It is the mindset to accept disruption, stay curious, and constantly learn that adds real, lasting value to our lives and work.

In moments of crisis or transition, don't go it alone. Tap into your trusted circle: your colleagues, mentors, and friends. Just like the animals in the forest, every one of us has a role to play in each other’s journey. Whether it's wisdom, challenge, encouragement, or quiet presence, your support system is one of your greatest strategic advantages.

Stories like these are not just for us. They are seeds of resilience for our children. When we pass them on, we help the next generation see that challenges are not roadblocks, but invitations to grow stronger, wiser, and kinder.

Crisis will test us. But it also gives us the chance to reconnect with what matters, lean on those we trust, and emerge wiser, stronger, and more whole than before.

Let’s keep walking. Let’s keep learning. Let’s keep growing—together.