In this last part of the article, I deal with the death of journalism. Let me just say, ‘ video killed the radio star.’
Read-shit rut:
The move to the internet was not my first choice. I had a job offer from a newspaper. But by then, ‘greed was good.’ Better salary is what lured me into the medium. I had no clue about the medium and once I joined I was jolted with one shock after another. My posting was in Delhi and the treatment meted out by fellow colleagues was sickening. (I got back to them by the way). I was at office one afternoon having returned after covering a protest at some university. I get a call from this colleague asking me why I am not at some fashion week covering the event. I was gutted and I thought where am I. (I didn’t cover it by the way). Not just this. The editor out here had this habit of protecting un-talented people or to be less harsh, people who didn’t work.
I was this puppy until then. Such calls were not coming to me anymore and I don’t think all the journalism, I did or tried to do would end up in a fashion week. With all due respect to the event, it is not my cup of tea.
The style of journalism here was rehash, borrow quotes. Most of the events that people covered were like the Sri Lankan roads that led to nowhere with no development. Anyways, I decided to toughen up and put my foot down. No one here is going to bully me. I covered one event after another. Be it the blasts in Hyderabad or the Mumbai 26/11 attacks. I will not mention the many more because at that time the Indian Mujahideen was active and were all over the place. I am sure all of you remember the number of blasts that took place in the country at that time. I was all over there.
Into the hills after my last dance: Part 1
The Khalistan issue and the Popular Front of India to Kerala radicalisation have all been covered since the past 12 to 14 years. It was never easy because I realised that in this place, it was no more about doing journalism by chasing documents, 100s of sources, thousands of discussions. You write it is was there, no matter what or who.
I managed to do an interview with Faiza Outalah, the wife of David Headley. It was a super exclusive and involved nearly 30 to 40 mails before she finally agreed to talk. It was a big deal as it came a couple of months after the 26/11 attacks. I was super excited. I first called K Sir and told him about it. He said, ‘excellent stuff. Keep it up.’ I was told by my editor that I should send it only to him. I didn’t send it and instead sent it to the entire office as I would be lying if would be saying that I didn’t want to show off about it. Well, he was upset, buried the story. But it got read a lot still because you know why. A good story is read even if it is buried under the sea. That much of basic journalism an internet editor (typo) didn’t realise. Let us call him cabal man.
Journalism for vertebrates:
Once when on an assignment to Hyderabad, I had fixed an interview with a person who had been released from a jail in Gujarat. Parts of old Hyderabad can be really dangerous and I had managed to get in there and get the interview. A question I asked that person went like this: ‘The Lashkar-e-Tayiba says it wants to liberate Hyderabad from India.” His answer, “ I will support that.” I came back running to the room and wrote the entire interview and sent it to him. His answer is that it is too controversial and that story won’t go up. Yes, I was upset, but equally angry that cabal man had no balls to carry it.
My thoughts went back to the days of the newspaper and I thought, we would have gone to town had we had that story back then. This is when I realised that the internet is all frill and frock. But, I wanted to insult the cabal man without telling him anything directly. Hence I changed my blog’s tagline to ‘Journalism is for Vertebrates.’ Well PR is for protozoans. Let us leave that for another day.
While internet journalism did give me a lot of scope and a lot of adulation, it did something within me, which made me distance a bit more from the profession.
It was just gathering news, re-hash and no real challenge with a legal team which would whimper like a puppy each time a defamation quote came up. Once an editor of mine had asked how many defamation cases I had against me. I said 2 and he replied by saying that is not good enough. Have around 150 to 300 and that will make you a good journalist. The basic line was that if you have not managed to rile up somebody, then you have not questioned something or not done your job enough.
While I do thank the internet for teaching me so much, I would always regret the fact that I did not take up nearly three offers from newspapers. My fault!
Woh Saat din:
I will leave a link here as I have already written about it in the past.
A desperate run:
Following my experience in television, I was desperate to come back to writing. I was okay with any salary as long as I could write. I had become used to writing on internal security and had built up a decent amount of readers. I took a massive salary cut just so that I could write. For the first couple of years it was great. I just did my stories and went about my job. Then came a change in management (story of my life) and they wanted a lead for the site. I was given to understand that it would be a one week assignment before they find a person who can head the team.
However that was not to be. My boss made me continue with that position. I insisted that the site will not pick up because I am not leader material. Emotional blackmails, ultimatums followed and I stuck there and did my job, very well as a writer, but terribly as a leader. I would wake up depressed, with no mojo whatsoever. I just went about it and I was over 40 years old and looking out for an another place was no longer exciting. The mental and physical health took a hit as it just did not excite me what I was doing. Meetings with SEO teams who are clueless about the news, an editor who cannot claim credit for even one story. An editor with zero experience in Hindi or English journalism being its head. All of this was not making sense. Journalism too had changed immensely and the headlines for which we used to once upon would discuss for hours had become click bait. As silly as ‘do you know how many lehengas Kareena Kapoor has?” (Hail Google).
Into the hills after my last dance Flashback : Part 2
I would not be lying if I didn’t say that that I resigned thrice. The first time post my resignation I was offered a freelance option. I took that gladly as I thought I would only have to write. However the so-called journalist put me back to team responsibilities and the gullible fool that I and the impossible art of saying no made me do it. After a while I was back on their rolls and then a year later again resigned because these people were doing anything but journalism. That too got rejected. A year and half later I finally made up my to call it quits from this place forever, be it on the rolls or freelance. It gave me a sense of disgust and I realised that I was losing confidence. Well let me tell you how that happened.
A meeting took place with a bunch of people in which they were doing a promo about the company and its journey for 20 odd years. There were a bunch of new faces who had not contributed anything for the company. No mention about the founders and the founding members who had made it a profitable venture. That upset me no end and I thought to myself, ‘what a set of ungrateful people.’ Then came another volley when we were told that stories would be rated on the basis of a score. None of those idiots could explain how it was being rated and questions posed hit a dead end. I thought what on earth is this? Then came the final bam: Those getting better scores on their stories would be given coupons. I said, ‘ that is it. Even if I have to starve on the road, I will not take this nonsense anymore.
Let us call him Khilji or does Aurangzeb sound better?
The last dance:
I got out of that dreaded place and started writing on my blog. I have been enjoying doing that. However I had this sense of hurt within me that it had to end on such a bitter note. I was feeling less confident and would often question if I had made a mistake and that is why I decided to leave.
Then out of the blue I got a call from PGurus asking me to discuss some topics with them. I was really nervous and I was wondering if I could even speak when my confidence is so low. I think I pulled it off because I got quite a lot of messages which said that I spoke well. I accept all those appreciatory messages with a lot of humility. I will forever be thankful to Sree Iyer sir for that opportunity. Let me call that the last dance.
Into the hills:
That leaves me with the question as to what next? A wind up completely or not? It confuses me every single day. After a lot of thinking, I decided, let me go to the hills where nobody knows my name. Wake up, stare into nature, walk around the hills, play some badminton in the evening. Sounds good. But then what happens to writing? That’s a tricky question now. I don’t want to write anymore for a financial gain such as a salary, but for myself.
I actually am not able to write this last line, because I have been an angry journalist all the time. The hills etc do not go down with me easily and also to keep a calm mind. But it is that time of life when a change is needed. Instead of getting up and staring into empty space, I rather spot the hills and pray to Mother Nature every day. Take a walk in the morning, keep the environment clean, talk to nature all day, play some badminton in the evening and come back to nature after that.
And what about writing. Well they say writers are born, they never perish. See you until the next one.
With love
Vicky Nanjappa
And the credits:
K Sir, Amar Bhushan Sir, CD Sir, AD Sir, Karnic Sir, BG Sir, Roja madam, Imran Bhai, Narayan Ammachi, K Sir again, Ramanand Bhat Sir, VY Kumar Sir, Navkesh Batra Sir, J Sai Deepak Sir, Nair Sir, Pramila madam, CV Nagesh Sir, H S Chandramouli Sir, Rina Kushalappa (Mummy), Sanjit Aiyappa (Bhai), For my ever loving wife, Rupali Nanjappa and to all my readers (Sniper)
(The three part series ends here)
Vicky Nanjappa 
Post your thoughts