THE TALE OF TWO CITIES

Chandu Mhatre  was the ILLUSTRATED WEEKLY’s chief photographer. He was a loner. He usually looked on even a casual “Hi” as gross infringement of his privacy. He also had a parochial streak in him. To him, I was but a lowly trainee. And a Madrassi at that. Having come to know him, I kept my distance.  So I was naturally surprised when he came up to me one evening, his motorised camera slung over his left shoulder, smiled pretty decently through his thick beard and said : “Hi Junior... Wanna join me on an assignment?”

I readily expressed willingness. I was keen to see how all those wonderful pictures that made the WEEKLY  what it was, were shot. We hailed a cab. He gave instructions to the driver in rapid Marathi. I did not understand a word but I had a distinct feeling that it related to much more than just the destination.  

As the cab started forth, I asked him where we were going. “Not very far”, he smiled mysteriously.

Right through the 20 minutes drive he appeared restless. He kept muttering to himself. For some time he was lost in thought. Deciding that discretion was the better part of valour, I remained quiet.  Suddenly he stirred. I felt that we were reaching journey’s end. He weighed his camera in his hands, looked through the eyepiece and then shot some more instructions to the driver. He turned to me.  “Whatever happens, don’t get out of the cab”, he told me. By now he had a virtually terrified look on his face. “But where are we going?” I asked. “You’ll know in a few moments”, he said.

I looked out of the window. We were just entering a long, narrow road, lined on either side by concrete tenements. We were in a rather impoverished part of the metropolis, I realised. Then I noticed something else. On the pavement at intervals were steel cots – one stacked above the other, with a mosquito curtain covering both. At each doorway stood girls of all ages, colours and sizes, garishly made up and in various stages of undress. A motley crowd of young men were following our vehicle. As our taxi slowed down, the women started beckoning, gesturing provocatively. Then someone noticed that my companion was busy shooting pictures with his motorised camera. A cry went up and a group of toughies came charging towards us. “Don’t stop”, Chandu shouted at the driver. “Drive fast... Get the hell out of here...”

The car picked up speed and in a few moments we were a safe distance away. Chandu’s hands were shivering. And he was sweating. I suddenly realised that I was too.

My first tryst with the sleazy underbelly of India came in 1983 during my early days as trainee sub-editor of THE ILLUSTRATED WEEKLY OF INDIA in Mumbai (then Bombay). We were working on an article titled “Walking the Wild Side” about the vice dens of Grant Road and Kamathipura. The story had been written by Malavika Sanghvi and Pritish Nandy had deputed Chandu Mhatre to shoot the photographs to illustrate the story...

A year later, I was posted as Special Correspondent in Chennai. I was writing for both WEEKLY and FILMFARE as Pritish Nandy was the editor of both. Those were the days when the term Malayalam Film had a nasty connotation in Chennai. A special genre of films, which rarely hit the screens in Kerala, were exclusively being shot for a voyeuristic Tamilnadu market – the so called soft-porn movies, often masquerading as films on sex education. I decided to do a story on this trend for FILMFARE.

The day after I sent in my story, I received a call from Nandy. “You *#@*##^*”, he said (he uses expletives when he is happy). “It’s a damn good story you’ve sent. Let’s not waste it in FILMFARE. Do some more researching, interview some of the stars and with some good pictures to go with it, we could use it in the WEEKLY ”.

The article was completed. But the problem of organising the photographs remained. I contacted various film photographers. All of them claimed that they could not help me. I tried to source clips from some of the films that had been released. But again met with failure. I wandered through the by-lanes of Kodambakkam in search of those elusive photographs. And then, someone referred me to Raju (name altered to conceal his identity). I even got his telephone number. I called up Raju and told him I’d like to meet him regarding some photographs. He told me where he lived and I went over.

It was a typical T Nagar “Bunglow”. And Raju was an elderly person, close to 70 years of age. Very respectable looking, very jovial for his age and pretty well informed. “How can I ask this man for stills from porn films?” I wondered.

He offered me tea and snacks. We talked about various things. Finally, with great difficulty, I broached the topic. “I am doing a story on the soft-porn films being released in Tamilnadu and I wanted some stills to illustrate it”, I told him. “Photographer Asokan referred me to you. He said you may be able to guide me...”  

Raju did not bat an eye-lid. “What sort of photographs do you want?” he asked “Nude? Partially nude?”

I was flabbergasted. “They have to be photographs fit to print in a magazine like the WEEKLY”, I said weakly.

“Take your pick”, he said and brought out a voluminous album bursting with photographs of women in black and white and colour. I started leafing through the pages. “This”, he said conversationally, “is a Brahmin girl. She does these types of photographs for money. 500 rupees per session. And this”, he said pointing at a topless woman, “is an IAS officer’s wife. She does it for the heck of it...”

I chose a few photographs which I felt would go with my story and left. My head still spinning.

A fortnight later was my marriage. The day after, I had a call from Pritish Nandy.” I have packed a wedding gift for you in this week’s WEEKLY”, he said mischievously, before hanging up.

The next day the WEEKLY hit the stands and my story was the cover story. My first cover story.

The following week, we went to Kerala to meet sundry relatives. My parents-in-law accompanied us. All along the way, wherever we stopped to refresh ourselves, we saw copies of the WEEKLY dangling in the news stands. Even in relatively small towns we could see chaps in dhotis walking up, look to the right and left, before purchasing a copy and walking off after surreptitiously folding it and tucking it under the armpit. This particular issue of the WEEKLY was obviously a sell-out!

In Kerala, my father-in-law would introduce me to his relatives. “This is Sunil”, he would say proudly.  “He is a journalist with The Illlustrated Weekly”. And prompt would come the smiling reply from the other side : “Oh, you are the one who writes about blue films, aren’t you”. It was an embarrassing ordeal for all of us.

But the lighter side apart, I have often wondered about the value systems that govern two large metropolises – Mumbai and Chennai. In Mumbai in those days, vice was open. It was organised. Red-light areas were defined. Hookers and call girls openly solicited from under lamp posts on busy thoroughfares. In the tradition-bound Chennai vice was always under the wraps. People never talked about it. But it was very much there!

Openness versus hypocrisy – you can take your pick.

DEAR MR PRIME MINISTER...

We were standing on the platform of the Mysore railway station – my parents and I. Our neigbour’s son, Muralidharan, had got selected as a Pilot in the Indian Air Force and was leaving for Secunderabad for his training. And we had gone to the station to see him off. I still vividly remember the scene. Murali leaning out of his compartment, all smiles, waving to us as the train chugged out... It was the year 1964, and I was hardly 6 years old. Yet the scene remains firmly etched in my memory.

A couple of years later, we relocated to Chennai (then Madras). And we lost touch with Murali’s parents. In 1971 came the Indo-Pakistan war, which India won. The war ended in the birth of Bangladesh. But not before it had claimed many a brave Indian life. We heard that Murali had died in the war. During a sortie, his plane had been hit while in Pakistan territory. “I have taken a hit... I am going down...”, were reportedly his last words to Air Base Control. One of his fellow pilots in the same sortie returned to inform that he had seen Murali baling out before his plane exploded.

During the post war assessment, the wreckage of Murali’s fighter plane had been identified. His helmet, with his name on it, had been recovered. But there was no sign of his body – charred or otherwise. The parents believed that he could be alive in Pakistan territory. They petitioned the IAF authorities, who after sending them around in circles, finally directed them to the corridors of political power. They trudged through South Block, North Block, Defence Ministry, Parliament House.... They found that there were several other parents like them. They walked. And trudged. And trudged... Until they died!

Even in death, they believed that Murali was alive.

The case of the missing Indian soldiers has been whispered about, even written about. It has been raised several times in Parliament. But the successive governments in power in Delhi did precious little about it.

Now the Government has changed. Narendra Modi’s BJP regime is in place. Modi has the reputation of being a man with a mission. And hence this blog on behalf of the several Indian soldiers who could still be prisoners in Pakistan... On behalf of the thousands of Indian soldiers who still silently shed tears for their missing brothers... On behalf of the families of the missing soldiers whose tears have run dry after four decades of crying...

AN OPEN LETTER TO THE PRIME MINISTER OF INDIA

Dear Mr Prime Minister,

I have been seeing your photographs in various newspapers spending quality time with our jawans in the border areas of our country, encouraging them and inspiring them to greater heights of glory. I also understand that you are working out a complete overhaul of the wage structure in the defence forces. No hike would be too high for the brave guardians of our nation’s frontiers. I must complement you for your efforts. However, I am constrained to bring to your notice a black spot on the flanks of the Defence Ministry, which, unless erased, will retard the commitment of our soldiers, undermine their confidence and deter them in their valiant duty of defending our frontiers. Your efforts in this regard will also restore the pride of the armed forces, making it a favoured choice of young and competent job-seekers.

Some time back I had occasion to read a book titled INDIAN PRISONERS OF WAR IN PAKISTAN. This is a book which chronicles the heart-rending stories of the families of Indian prisoners of war (POWs) and the apathy of the Indian Government in getting them freed from the clutches of the Pakistani authorities. It highlights the flaws in the system leading to the traumatisation of many families which had sent their sons, husbands and fathers to serve the nation only to find them serving unspecified periods in abominable jails under a hostile government.

Let me put things in perspective.

Following the 1971 war between India and Pakistan, 3,703 soldiers from West Pakistan and 93,007 from East Pakistan (now Bangladesh) were imprisoned by India. In addition, the Indian Army occupied 9,047 sq kms of Pakistan territory in Punjab, including 90 villages. This was one of the largest surrenders in history since World War II. For its part, Pakistan took 2,307 Indian soldiers as POWs. The equations clearly showed that India was the victor and Pakistan the vanquished. It was as a result of this Indian victory that Bangladesh was born !

At the end of a war, every man has to be accounted for, alive or dead. The list of all those who are reported missing, believed dead or taken prisoners are compiled and exchanged between the nations concerned. One list is also handed over to the International Red Cross. Dead bodies have to be identified with the help of ID discs on their clothes or by other soldiers. No soldier is ever allowed to be abandoned in a hostile land. In case any dead soldiers are recovered by enemy forces, convention has it that their remains and/or their ID discs and personal belongings like wrist watches are repatriated. These help the bereaved families in identification. No country ever returns the enemy’s prisoners unless their own are fully accounted for. Conventionally, the victors get their imprisoned soldiers repatriated first before returning the opponent’s POWs.

However, after the 1971 war, all these conventions were given a go by. Following the Shimla Accord of June 28-July 3, 1972 between Prime Ministers Indira Gandhi and Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto India acceded to releasing the POWs held by us as a gesture of reconciliation and goodwill. India vacated Pakistani territory by August 7, 1972. The POWs of Pakistan were released on December 1, 1972. At that time, two lists of Indian POWs in Pakistan had been handed over to India. A third list was under preparation. Following the repatriation of the Pakistani POWs, the third list of Indian POWs never came. Of the names of Indian POWs reported to be in Pakistan’s custody, which was announced on Pakistan Radio on August 8, 9, 10 and 11, 1972, at least 55 were missing from the two lists that were submitted to India. When the Indian POWs were finally repatriated, only those names that figured in the lists returned. The whereabouts of the others was not known.

The Indian Government under Mrs Indira Gandhi was responsible for the unpardonable crime of allowing some of our brave soldiers to languish in the hands of a hostile enemy. The grieving families of these soldiers were forced to roam the corridors of power in New Delhi, in vain. Though India won the war, Mrs Gandhi lost out to Zulfiqar Bhutto at the negotiating table !

There are various evidences which confirmed the presence of Indian POWs in Pakistan, long after the war :

1.      The Internationally respected Time magazine illustrated its cover story on the “Bloody Birth of Bangladesh” with, amongst other pictures, a photograph of an Indian jawan behind bars in a Pakistan prison. The prisoner in the photograph was identified as Major A K Ghosh of the Indian army. However, when the exchange of POWs took place, there was no Major Ghosh.

2.      The Pakistan Radio broadcasts of August 8,9,10 and 11, 1972, quoted above.

3.      The book authored by Victoria Schoffield, the BBC’s correspondent in Pakistan titled BHUTTO – TRIAL AND EXECUTION, in which she describes the tortures that the deposed Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto was subjected to by the military junta that ousted him. She says : “At Kot Lakhpat (prison), Bhutto was subjected to a peculiar kind of harassment. His cell, separated from a barrack area by a 10-feet high wall, did not prevent him from hearing horrific shrieks and screams at night from the other side of the wall. One of Bhutto’s lawyers made enquiries amongst the jail staff and ascertained that they were in fact Indian Prisoners of War who had been rendered delinquent and mental during the course of the 1971 war…” This was in 1978-79, seven years after the war. The book quotes Bhutto of saying that there were 50-odd Indian POWs lodged in the ward.

4.      During the SAARC summit in 1989, Zulfiqar’s daughter Benazir Bhutto, who had by then become Prime Minister of Pakistan, informed her Indian counterpart Rajiv Gandhi, who had succeeded his mother Indira, that 43 Indian POWs were still there in Pakistan.

5.      In December, 2005, Jabid Rashid, the Editor of the Daily Jang, Pakistan’s leading newspaper, while on a visit to India, confirmed the presence of several Indian POWs in Pakistan.

Mr Prime Minister, diplomatic bridges are being buit with Pakistan. “Confidence-building measures” are being put in place. Diplomats and political leaders from the two countries are exchanging visits. Handshakes are being exchanged. Photo-ops are taking place involving dignitaries of the two countries. And efforts are under way to simplify visa procedures between the two countries. This is the time to also take up the issue of the Indian POWs, who could still be languishing in the Pakistani jails. This matter has been hanging for 42 long years. Many of the POWs may have died. But it is still not too late. Even if you can get back the surviving few, it would be a great service to the grieving families. It would be a great morale boost to the armed services. This one deed would be more reassuring to our brave soldiers than all the other confidence building measures put together.

On behalf of the grieving families who have been running from pillar to post for some news about their brave sons, on behalf of the lakhs of soldiers serving the Indian armed forces and on behalf of the hapless POWs, who have survived this 42 years ordeal, I appeal to you to address this issue as a priority. Posterity will remember you as the Prime Minister who restored the pride and confidence of the personnel of India’s armed forces in themselves.

With kind regards,

K P Sunil

List of missing Indian soldiers tabled in the Lok Sabha in 1979 by Samarendra Kundu, Minister of State of External Affairs, in reply to unstarred question 6803 raised by Amarsingh Pathawa

Indian Army

1. Major SPS Waraich IC-12712 15 Punjab

2. Major Kanwaljit Singh Sandhu IC-14590 15 Punjab

3. 2/Lt Sudhir Mohan Sabharwal SS-23957 87 Lt Regiment

4. Capt Ravinder Kaura SS-20095 39 Med Regiment

5. Capt Giri Raj Singh IC-23283 5 Assam

6. Capt Om Prakash Dalal SS-22536 Grenadiers

7. Maj AK Ghosh IC-18790 15 Rajput

8. Maj AK Suri SS-19807 5 Assam

9. Capt Kalyan Singh Rathod IC-28148 5 Assam

10. Major Jaskiran Singh Malik IC-14457 8 Raj. Rifles

11. Major SC Guleri IC-20230 9 Jat

12. Lt Vijay Kumar Azad IC-58589 1/9 G R

13. Capt Kamal Bakshi IC-19294 5 Sikh

14. 2/ Lt Paras Ram Sharma SS-22490 5/8 G R

15. Capt Vashisht Nath

16. L/Hv. Krishna Lal Sharma 13719585 1 JAK RIF

17. Subedar Assa Singh JC-41339 5 Sikh

18. Subedar Kalidas JC-59 8 JAKLI

19. L/Nk Jagdish Raj 9208735 Mahar Regiment

20. L/Nk Hazoora Singh 682211303

21. Gunner Sujan Singh 1146819 14 Fd Regiment

22. Sepoy Daler Singh 2461830 15 Punjab

23. Gnr Pal Singh 1239603 181 Lt Regiment

24. Sepoy Jagir Singh 2459087 16 Punjab

25. Gnr Madan Mohan 1157419 94 Mountain Regiment

26. Gnr Gyan Chand Gnr Shyam Singh

27. L/Nk Balbir Singh S B S Chauhan

28. Capt DS jamwal 81 Field Regiment

29. Capt Washisht Nath Attock

Indian Air Force

30. Sq Ldr Mohinder Kumar Jain 5327-F(P) 27 Sqn

31. Flt Lt Sudhir Kumar Goswami 8956-F(P) 5 Sqn

32. Flying Officer Sudhir Tyagi 10871-F(P) 27 Sqn

33. Flt Lt Vijay Vasant Tambay 7662 –F(P) 32 Sqn

34. Flt Lt Nagaswami Shanker 9773-F(P) 32 Sqn

35. Flt Lt Ram Metharam Advani 7812-F(P) JBCU

36. Flt Lt Manohar Purohit 10249(N) 5 Sqn

37. Flt Lt Tanmaya Singh Dandoss 8160-F(P) 26 Sqn

38. Wg Cdr Hersern Singh Gill 4657-F(P) 47 Sqn

39. Flt Lt Babul Guha 5105-F(P)

40. Flt Lt Suresh Chander Sandal 8659-F(P) 35 Sqn

41. Sqn. Ldr. Jal Manikshaw Mistry 5006-F(P)

42. Flt Lt Harvinder Singh 9441-F(P) 222 Sqn

43. Sqn Ldr Jatinder Das Kumar 4896-F(P) 3 Sqn

44. Flt Lt LM Sassoon 7419-F(P) JBCU

45. Flt Lt Kushalpal Singh Nanda 7819-F(N) 35 Sqn

46. Flg Offr. Krishan L Malkani 10576-F(P) 27 Sqn

47. Flt Lt Ashok Balwant Dhavale 9030-F(P) 1 Sqn

48. Flt Lt Shrikant C Mahajan 10239-F(P) 5 Sqn

49. Flt Lt Gurdev Singh Rai 9015-F(P) 27 Sqn

50. Flt Lt Ramesh G Kadam 8404-F(P) TACDE

51. Flg Offr. KP Murlidharan 10575-F(P) 20 Sqn

52. Naval Pilot Lt. Cdr Ashok Roy

53. Sqn Ldr Devaprasad Chatterjee

54. Plt Offr Tejinder Singh Sethi

DEDICATION

There are two people who are no more in this world; but without whom I would not be in this world. My parents. 

I AM, because THEY WERE. 

Its decades since death snatched them away from me. Yet hardly a day passes that I do not think of them. For them, I was their entire world. They lived for me. To give a measure of the love they had for me, I reproduce a letter written to me by my Mother on the 6^th of August, 1984 :

My dear Mon,

Yes, you have made it. Congratulations.

I have had very few happy moments in life. Thinking of them, I feel that real happiness is always mixed with tears. One such moment was the time when you were born. After that severe pain ended, I heard that loud cry. I had no feelings at that time. I was simply lying on my back, staring at the wooden ceiling of our house. My mind was blank. A sort of numbness was there. Then, all of a sudden, the midwife placed a small red bundle on my chest. That soft baby hair was touching my chin. It was still smelling of blood – my own blood – and Dettol. I touched those silky soft hands and feet. And tears – tears of happiness – began rolling down my cheeks. I wept  and wept. I just could not control myself.

You may not remember the day you wrote your first A all by yourself. When you proudly showed it to me, tears of happiness clouded my eyes. I thought it was the most beautiful handwriting I had ever seen. I showed it to the neighbours, the servant, everybody... I kept it till Achan came back from office. Both of us were waiting for him. When he came and saw it, he jumped of joy and really danced around taking you in his arms. It was a very proud moment in our life. Later you brought home your progress reports, merit cards, certificates and finally your Gold Medal!

On 4^th evening,Achan brought home a copy of the Weekly with a smile. I snatched it from his briefcase and looked through it impatiently. Yes, I saw your name in THE ILLUSTRATED WEEKLY OF INDIA. This time I controlled my feelings because the workers, office peon, etc were there. I just went through it then. At night, in the darkness of the bedroom, I wanted to give vent to my feelings. I took one Calmpose, pulled a rug over my head and wept noiselessly until my nose got blocked and the head became heavy. They were tears of extreme happiness. Slowly, the Calmpose put me to sound sleep. From the next morning onwards, we were showing your article to everybody including our illiterate maid servant. Then I remembered that big, first A of yours. Now I am praying to Lord Krishna to bless you and give you all happiness and peace of mind in life...

Lots of love,

Amma

 The reason for her emotions was very simple. My first by-lined article had been published in THE ILLUSTRATED WEEKLY OF INDIA.  It was only a sort of filler. When the pages for the issue had been made and the D-day for closing the issue had come, we suddenly realised that a one-pager on cinema had not come in. We had to cook up something, and we had only an hour or so for it. It was an emergency situation. And the onus fell on me. For some strange reason, the topic I chose to write upon was about Indians' foraying into Hollywood and not quite making it big. I was not too happy with what I had written. If time was on hand, I could have done some more researching (remember, those were the days when the worldwide web did not exist). But then, the July 29, 1984 issue, when it hit the stands, carried my first story.

My Dad was a lot more realistic in expressing his views. In a corner of my Mother's emotion-packed letter to me, he made his views succinct :

 I fully agree with Mother’s sentiments. We feel so proud about you. Though this is not your best, yet it is the beginning. Keep it up and God bless you.

Love,

Achan

I dedicate this Blog : THIRD EYE to these two people who mean so much to me.

When they died, they died leaving me feeling that I had not done enough for them! I would like to tell them how much I care for them. But words fail me. So I have taken the easy way out. I have linked below the writings of one who is far, far greater than me in every way. Aadhi Sankara, in his immortal ode to his mother, which every human being should read :

http://www.funonthenet.in/forums/index.php?topic=138872.0

The acknowledgements do not end with this. There is one person who has stood by me through thick and thin. When I vanished without a trace for three weeks in the Vanni Jungles of Sri Lanka on the LTTE trail in 1992, when my house was attacked by goons of the DMK in 1989, when the Sankaracharya of Kanchi sent a hit team to attack me in 1987, when an arrest warrant was put out against me by the AIADMK regime in 1992... she was with me like a rock -- supporting me emotionally, taking up jobs she was never accustomed to when finances were strained, taking care of the family and house when my attention was on my assignments... To my loving wife, I dedicate this blog.

After spending more than two decades in the visual media, there had to be a compelling reason for me to return to writing. And that reason came in the form of my Son and Daughter-in-law. Both have been insisting that I should resume writing. And when I said I was planning to blog with THIRD EYE as my Blogsite ID, my Daughter-in-law dipped into her "thought box" and came out with several little drops in the form of a series of logo designs. Through their insistence, they gave new meaning to my life. I present below the various design options. It would be great if readers can send in their comments on which the ideal Logo design would be.

THE FIRST POST

Today, when I start my career as a serious blogger, my mind goes back to the year 1983, when I started my career as a journalist. As a humble trainee with the famed ILLUSTRATED WEEKLY OF INDIA (or just WEEKLY). 

The WEEKLY was hallowed grounds. My Dad used to bring home copies of it every week from the circulating library in his office. Edited at that time by none other than the jovial, yet venerable Sardar, Khuswant Singh with his naughty sense of humour, the WEEKLY was my favourite reading as a little boy. I loved the articles. I loved the photographs. I lapped up Khushwant's naughty but pertinent point of view on a wide variety of subjects ranging from bottom-pinching on the busy thoroughfares of Mumbai (then Bombay) to his penniless sojourn in the costliest of metropolises -- Tokyo. I loved to read his thoroughly enjoyable, tongue-in-cheek weekly editorial column "With Malice Towards One And All".  Sitting inside a bulb (a caricature created by Mario Miranda), he mocked at the world. I loved the comic sections with Dennis the Menace, Phantom, Hubert and Flash Gordan strips. I diligently worked on the Weekly Crossword. I even loved the classified ads that appeared on the last two pages -- ads for products and services that were not seen anywhere else, like realistic-looking airguns with plastic bullets for self defence, hypnotism courses, X-ray glasses and much more... 

Long before the Frontlines and the India Todays were born, the WEEKLY existed. It was undoubtedly the most popular English publication of the time. I still vividly remember the special cricket issue in 1971 featuring Sir Garfield Sobers and our very own Sunil Gavaskar on the cover. Gavaskar was fresh from his magical debut in the West Indies and had been selected to play for a dream World Team under Sobers against Australia. This was the issue that sold more than 4 lakh copies -- simultaneously establishing the WEEKLY as the number one publication and Cricket as the most popular sport in India. The cover story was written by Raju Bharathan, one of the best cricket writers of the time. 

And then I remember an issue which was devoted to the Nairs of Kerala. I still vividly recollect my Dad and Mom poring through the pages with excitement. Hailing as we did from the Nair community, the issue was of special interest to them as it chronicled Nair traditions and customs and also listed out prominent members of the community, many of whom were known to them or related to us. Featuring Usha Chettur on the cover, this issue remains in my library long after both my parents died...

The WEEKLY, for me, was the ultimate in journalism. To work for the WEEKLY was a dream I nourished right from my school days. A dream that I never thought would become a reality. 

But then, the impossible happened. 

I was working as a Preventive Officer in the Madras Customs (Chennai was called Madras in those days). Though a respectable uniformed job, the ambiance was nauseating. I was wallowing in a sea of corruption, trying to swim against the currents. But the going was getting increasingly tougher by the day. So I took the only sensible route I could think of. I quit. And then I took the entrance test for the position of Trainee Journalist in the Times of India group and got selected. 

After three weeks of initiation, I found myself in the office of Pritish Nandy, who was now the Editor of the WEEKLY. It was meant to be a three week training stint and I started work with trepidation. Nandy had only just taken over the top job. Still in his thirties, he was facing a lot of opposition from others in the staff, most of whom had been part of the Old Lady of Boribunder (the nickname for the Times Group) for donkey's years. A sort of a work-to-rule pattern was being followed with all the senior staffs striding in at the stroke of 10, twiddling their thumbs during the whole day and stalking out at the stroke of 5! The advent of a trainee into this scheme of things came as a Godsend. I used to reach office at 9 in the morning and work right through till 9 at night, virtually handling the content of the entire issue single-handedly. 

The first issue I handled featured actress Rekha on the cover. Sailesh Kottary, who as Deputy Editor was my immediate boss, had done the interview. The cover was designed by M G Moinuddin, a creative genius, albeit hearing-impaired. When the magazine hit the stands, I was thrilled. Though I had seen the issue at various stages before and after it went to the press, seeing it on the stands and leafing through a copy bought off the shelf gave me an extra thrill. The feeling was akin that of a young mother holding her newborn in her hands and looking into the eyes. Even more gratifying was watching the reactions of others looking at the magazine, leafing through it, making an observation to those with them and ultimately buying a copy.

I knew I had come home!! The WEEKLY was my home. I dreaded the prospect of being transferred to some other department of the vast Times Group at the end of the mandated 3 week period. But my fears were ill founded. When my transfer letter came, Pritish Nandy tore it to pieces. "No more transfers for Sunil", he yelled at PC Sethi, the Training Head of TOI. "He will continue to work for the WEEKLY!"

And continue I did, for the next 10 years, shifting to Chennai a year later, on completion of my training period, as the first ever Regional Correspondent of the over-a-century old publication.

More than three decades have passed since I took my first hesitant steps in the highly combative and challenging field of journalism. More than 1000 articles in the WEEKLY, Filmfare, The Observer of Business & Politics and Sunday Observer... More than 2500 hours of entertainment programming as the head of Telly Zoom. More than 10,000 hours of news bulletins on Raj TV and Jaya TV... Three decades of agony and ecstasy, highs and lows, achievement and rejection, happiness and sorrow... It is these and much more that will feature in the THIRD EYE. Some of the stuff that appear here may have already been published, but are being reproduced because they are still relevant. Much more will relate to issues and happenings Behind the Byline. I may be appreciated. I may be riled. I may even be crucified. But on this blog, please remember, TRUTH ALONE MATTERS.