Journalism can leave you with tattered minds and bloated egoes: so were the wise words imparted to me by the late RK Laxman early on in my career. He was right: over the years, I have seen perfectly decent men and women allowing themselves to be overcome by hubris and petty battles. Did I get my byline? What happened to my piece to camera? Why should I share screen space with someone else? If anything, television has aggravated the problem: when you are recognised at the airport, you are almost convinced of your mini-stardom. Forget about the original purpose of journalism as news gathering, you now see yourself as a self-styled oracle strutting around like a peacock. Only the feathers are missing!
I write this on a day I lost a friend who was not your typical journalist. Diptosh Majumdar was not a ‘star’ anchor or editor, but he was a very fine journalist. More importantly, he was a bloody good human being. We worked together for about five years at CNN IBN. They were wonderful years: he was our national affairs editor and really helped mentor what became the finest team of young political reporters. He was good with young people because he didn’t suffer from the pomposity or insecurities that ravage this profession. Instead, he was like a father figure, always looking to share story ideas with the team, his eyes and ears always receptive to information like a sharp news hound. He understood politics but imparted his wisdom in a typical understated manner. On our tv debates, he was a real asset: a genial, ever smiling presence who would make his point firmly but without raising his voice.
I met him on Friday in hospital as he was battling cancer. The gods had not been particularly kind to him with his health but he was not letting it get him down. I suggested we get a small tv in his ICU room so that he could watch the Delhi counting day live on Tuesday. ‘Yes, I would very much like that,’ he said, excited at the keen contest which had been building up. We both agreed to share notes after the verdict. There is nothing like an election to enthuse a political journalist. Sadly Diptosh will not be around on Tuesday to see the results, but his spirit will be watching over us. Farewell Dada: elections will come and go, you will stay in our hearts.
