Reading Time: 3 minutes
Ruchira’s memoir provides a unique perspective on the early days of Indian journalism, detailing the challenges and rewards of the media industry, exclusively for Different Truths.
I have been associated with the Media industry (journalism & Mass Communication) for thirty-odd years (and still counting).
Would you believe if I said that I sauntered into this sphere? Yes, that is the truth. I majored in English literature. Once my academics got over, I chose to become a teacher of English language in a couple of schools. But soon the realization dawned on me: This was not my cup of tea. So one fine morning I chucked it all up and looked for other options. Since I always enjoyed writing and (supposedly) had command over the language I searched for a suitable vacancy in journalism.
My first job was with a so-called ‘City Magazine’ in the National Capital. The species has long become defunct, hence the youngsters might not have heard of them.
Anyway, the editor-cum-proprietor was a learned man but a harsh taskmaster. Payment-wise, he was the proverbial Mr Scrooge (Dickens’ protagonist in A Christmas Carol). Immature and impulsive that I was, after six months or so, I decided to quit and look for greener pastures. This was indeed a milestone for me since it catapulted me into the arena of “freelancing”.
This was no cakewalk but nevertheless challenging and interesting. For one, I didn’t own a personal phone; my parents had no phone either. (mobile or cellular phones were unheard of then.) Therefore, I had to lean heavily on the public phones installed at post offices, drugstores et al. Often, they malfunctioned which caused me great harassment.
A couple of years later, after I got hitched, I was allowed to use the in-laws’ phone albeit under the strict vigilance of the father-in-law and his daughter. The old man even obliquely demanded payment for the calls. As if this was not enough, at that point in time I didn’t own a typewriter either. Therefore, after finalizing the handwritten copies, I trudged to the typists’ shops in the neighbourhood. At times I would need to catch a bus to Connaught Place (city centre) and sit for hours in steamy, crowded shops while the men furiously worked on their machines. A few of them overcharged but I complied. Sometimes a generous editor or two (of the dailies I wrote for) allowed me to use their office typewriters. However, my work was sometimes disrupted when some garrulous staffers indulged in revelry in the vicinity.
Nevertheless, the silver lining was that these publications (all of them frontline ones) paid fairly well, which was enough for my bread and butter (and occasional cheese).
Sadly, the flip side was that occasionally, after commissioning a story, the supervisor would backtrack. It was emotionally painful and implied less or no payment. Worse, once the coordinator of a pan India daily – who handled me – strongly recommended me to the Editor for a full-time position. Upon reporting there on the stipulated day I discovered somebody else had been appointed as per orders from above!
At this juncture, Dame Luck seemed to smile at me! Over the next few years, I achieved a hattrick of jobs, which boosted my morale and confidence. One of them was with a Mumbai-based media house that published popular upscale film magazines and glossies.
My situation eased further when I finally managed to buy a desktop/PC precisely at the turn of the century! This synchronized with the advent (read ramification) of the Internet. Thus equipped, I was able to pursue full-time desk jobs with online portals; during leisurely weekend offs, I also managed to handle some more assignments which helped me to rake in a little more moolah.
Picture design Anumita Roy
