The Hindu Business Line : Ten years ago...

It is rare for a journalist to be a part of a business paper even before the first edition came out and all of us were more than jumpy awaiting the first edition of Business Line on the morning of January 28, 1994. If one is putting down in pr int an admittedly inexact bit of BL history (the memory pad needs replacement) it is because Indian journalism has not cared to put down its tale.

"SAAB, dus saal bahut juldi se gaya (Ten years have gone too fast)," said portly Sohan Singh with a chortle. He recalled everyone from the first few who started working out of Mumbai for Business Line.

Sometimes when one walked home alone in the night, Moti would be there with a namaste, before closing the office. One doubts whether he has ever read the paper in the 10 years of our being with each other. There is something of a Buddha in these men and women coming from Nepal that they hold on to even in a city like Mumbai. Their habit of an unhurried laughter inspires.

There is a laugh somewhere inside when one thinks of the times when the Mumbai bureau had men from Madras (now Chennai) manning it. Murali, Shaji and Ramki (popularly known as Mogli) came to Bombay (now Mumbai) like the Britishers of yore shipped out of their homes in beloved England to India. They were all on their first trip out on work to Mumbai. It continued with Giri, the joking devil, Govardhan and Vyjayanti and by then my good friend Kurup had taken charge of the bureau.

Somewhere in between, Paul walked in with camera and home-made wine made from the best of deep violet grapes growing in his dear old Goa. When Murali laughed, the Government officials working in the Excise Department on the other side of the wall (which separated our office from theirs) nearly jumped over it to know what happened.

Shaji's moods fluctuated like the hands of the clock on the wall that ran on its own whim, sometimes slow, sometimes fast. Mogli had a permanent cat-grin like the cats outside, which now are under the tutelage of Lyla. They formed the strike force those days with the back-up being provided by Usha, Anuradha and Linus. We could say anything to Usha and she took it as she revelled in it; Anuradha started as a quiet customer to turn into one of the toughest stock market correspondents picking up fights with everyone. Usha is in the US and Anuradha in Singapore.

BL was a new product for the business capital of India and they could not be blamed if they initially kept us at a distance. Any one of us would have done the same though it unnerved us. There was enough office space guaranteeing everyone ample room and in about two to three years, additions cramped movement.

Shankar Bhagwan, with his trademark coffee, started with us along with quiet Usha and Kumar. It is rare for a journalist to be a part of a business paper even before the first edition came out and all of us were more than jumpy awaiting the first edition of Business Line on the morning of January 28, 1994. If one is putting down in print an admittedly inexact bit of BL history (the memory pad needs replacement) it is because Indian journalism has not cared to put down its tale.

In Kolkata, one had been on the staff of a monthly magazine from its birth. But it closed down and on the final day, the editor made a pronouncement looking at a 21-year-old me: "You are no good at anything." And I replied, "That's what my father told me long ago." He asked me to get out immediately. It was shocking then as for about six months one had worked as reporter, sub editor, space seller and delivery boy and here was the boss saying one was good at nothing. That was the time one was convinced that journalism is the best occupation for know-nothings as one remains forever in a state of pristine ignorance though that's not the way my friends look at it. For this writer, his times at BL can be broken into pre-Lachman and post-Lachman eras.

By the time one had started working in BL, one had shifted from Dombivili, some 49 km away from the work place to Borivili, about 34 km away and the family lived on a long thread of daily change as Borivili had more to offer. Initially, one missed Dombivili and the card and non-card friends one had made travelling 18 years by the Central Railway local, an event to look forward to every day.

But one day Borivili offered me Lachman Singh, the man from Dehra Dun, who worked on the rice fields. On my morning walks one saw him working in the fields; the relationship grew to a mutual exchange of Siya Ramji ki, before one day he offered me a cup of tea made on a wood fire and a beedi as he smoked in those years, to become a permanent presence like BL in Mumbai.

More Stories on : Newspapers & Publishing | Reflections

Article E-Mail :: Comment :: Syndication :: Printer Friendly Page

Stories in this Section
Ten years ago...

Upcountry marvels

F1 dreams drive him high