Behind the News: Voices from Goa\'s Press by Various

V >> Various >> Behind the News: Voices from Goa\'s Press

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14

WCT hit the newsstands in early-July 1978. We raced. In Margao,
I concentrated on at least one off-beat,
human-interest, interview-based or photo-story per day,
carried usually boxed or in anchor position. Aware of
our printing process strengths, I never lost an
opportunity to get Manik shoot a good pic, including
one that had to be clicked from a bubbling canoe in
choppy waters off a rocky beach in Betul, South Goa.
[This one was of a rotting human male corpse --
sprawling, shocking and white on the dark rocks - which
the cops had neglected to recover despite the local
Sarpanch's days-long complaints. P.R. Menon splashed
the pic in the lead-story position. I had to take
Papa's reprimand the following morning -- it seems the
Lt. Governor was taken so aback picking the morning's
WCT that his P.A. personally called Papa to complain
about bad taste. But I still considered the
two-and-half Rupees paid to the canoe man for the ride
a fine expense!]

Consciously, though, we shunned sensationalizing and Kaka
firmly shot the idea of carrying the day's matka
figures. We refrained from gimmicks like carrying dummy
advertisements, especially in the Classified columns,
barometer to a newspaper's popularity.

Instead, we went for innovative editorial content.
[Including, at my instance, a SundayMag column on
Sleight of Hand by the Salcete magician, Marco. When
Marco didn't show up for a couple of weeks, leading to
howls from eager readers of his column, Y.M. Hegde was
so furious that I had to fill in with a piece on how
Marco had performed the Vanishing Trick and restore
YM's trademark smile!]

To further notch up circulation, I almost coerced Madkaikar
into breaking the back of monopoly newspaper
distributors in South Goa -- by selling retail bundles
to any willing vendor on an initial sell-or-return basis.

Results were evident. By month 6, we sold around 4,500
copies in and around Margao alone, compared to less
than half that number by NT. Circulation problems,
however, persisted in North Goa, including delayed
deliveries to news stalls in the northern talukas. But
then, we had just two vehicles to cover the entire
territory. ("Penny wise, Pound foolish," P.R. Menon
forever rued, he never carried much of an impression
about the managerial abilities of Goan mineowners --
all his life, after all, Menon had worked in a
establishment owned by the Karnanis, Marwaris to the
core!) Even then, overall, WCT's print order would be
just about 2,000 copies short of the NT. And at the
rate we were going, the gap would fast be closed and surpassed?

My heroes, of course, were Shivram Borkar and Babal Borkar,
ace drivers who by day ferried the shift editorial
staff to and from quarters in Margao to office in Davorlim
. By night, the duo snoozed whatever time available, on
heaps of 'raddi' in the press. And zipped their way
with newspaper bundles to either end of Goa before the
crack of dawn -- in terribly overloaded, ramshackle,
dieselized Ambassador cars that should have been a
delight to Mario Miranda and Alexyz (we used a
syndicated pocket cartoon, incidentally, since Mario
was with the ToI group in Mumbai and Alexyz hadn't yet
surfaced as a cartoonist.) Babal and Shivram, true
heroes who virtually were at call, round the clock,
round the year. [They of course made out-of-pocket
money, ferrying passengers on the return. When this
reached Papa's ears, he tailed one of the drivers one
fine morning. When the unsuspecting fellow stopped to
take in passengers, Papa is reported to have pulled
alongside and advised the driver, "Bhara, bhara, taxi
ti!" The man was often magnanimous. The driver did not
lose his job.]

By the first year of publication, despite impressive
circulation figures, there were no signs of advertising
revenue picking up to reach the financial break-even
point. To the sheer dismay of our well-knit editorial
team, there were also no signs of implementation of the
pan-Konkan Plan. The management, instead, began
fighting shy to inject fresh investment in the
enterprise. Corners started getting cut. Virgin plates
came to used only for jacket pages, inside pages were
processed on recycled plates. Papa's dream began to
show signs of fatigue?

By the third month into the second year of publication,
amid this uncertain scenario, arrived Nicholas
("Nicky") Rebello, a lino-typesetter and leader of the
NT worker's union. I will not hedge a bet if Nicky was
'inspired' by his employers, but having been in touch
with him much after his retirement from NT at his home
in Betim, I can vouchsafe Nicky didn't travel to Davorlim
by any 'political' inspiration. My best guess is that
some restive workers of the WCT press, aware of wages
being paid at NT, must have approached and invited
Nicky to Davorlim. The workers of WCT press got
unionized and Nicky soon served a Charter of Demands.
The management stood its ground, often unreasonably in
the opinion of the editorial team - which of course had
no locus standi in the imbroglio. As the strike showed
signs of protraction, P.R. Menon, known for leftist
leanings from his fiery days at the FPJ, tried to
intervene with the management. To no avail.

(P.R. Menon was forever of the conviction that
managerial skills of Goan mine-owners were limited to
blasting, transportation and shipping -- and after the
importer's cheque arrived, to distributing the proceeds
to those who had blasted, transported and shipped. And,
of course, to profits!) Papa, strangely, sometimes used
queer management methods. There was this Chief
Accountant, hired for the PTI group, on a then princely
salary of Rs.4,000 a month. To get a feedback on the
Chief Accountant, Papa assigned a peon drawing no more
than Rs.250 a month. After office hours, the peon would
report to Papa on the activities of the C.A. from
which, inferences on the Chief Accountant were drawn!

But a man of immense experience and intuition he was.
From the streets of native Assolna in Salcete, where as
a child he hawked textiles, a wooden yard measure slung
across his shoulder and a coolie with a headload of
wares in tow, Papa must have surely post-graduated from
the University of Experience. On occasions when I was
seated in his chamber, his P.A., Sambari would buzz to
announce a visitor. In a flash Papa knew why the man
had come, what he would say, and had the replies even
before the visitor entered! I personally saw flaming
creditors leave his chamber smiling, even though not a
paisa had yielded! He had that rare ability to disarm
even the most irate visitor. But when it came to the
WCT strike, I have always held the belief that a man of
such calibre who could have easily placated the
agitated workers and even broken their Union, was
somehow carried away with the opinion of one trusted
man, who was obviously misleading him -- and since I've
named names, I will exclude Madkaikar and Kurwar.]

With no end to the strike in sight, Bailur, Hegde, Kaka
and me next met and virtually pleaded with Papa to
concede some sops to the striking workmen and get the
publication going. I think the establishment (may not
have been Papa) thereafter regarded as being pro-Union!

The editorial team, bulk of which was from outstation,
met frequently during those bekaar days and finally,
the painful decision emerged that we tell the
management to either settle the dispute with the Union
or we quit en masse. The management was unmoved. We
quit, but Papa's dispenser of bad advice insisted on
serving 'dismissal' letters!

And thus a lofty dream to publish from Goa, the land of
Banna Halli, an English daily serving the entire of
Lord Parashuram's Konkan on the West Coast of India,
went phut. A modern press and process, an excellent
editorial team -- path-breaking infrastructure in Goa's
history of newspaper production -- lay in waste.

The venerable Bailur returned to retirement, as did
P.R. Menon. Y.M. Hegde joined Mumbai's Shipping Times
as Editor. The Chief Subs and Subs returned to their
original publications or to new jobs. A Goan Sub,
Vincent Rangel, from Tivim-Bardez, went into business,
as the Mumbai-end partner of Manvin Couriers. I joined
the FPJ Group (Free Press Journal, its
tabloid-eveninger Bulletin and fortnightly, Onlooker)
as Goa Correspondent; moved in like capacity to IE when
FPJ's Chief Editor, S. Krishnamurty joined IE's Mumbai
edition as Resident Editor; played a role in J.D. Fernandes'
decision to start an English avatar of the near
defunct Portuguese O Heraldo (including the hiring of
its first editor) -- and almost joined, but didn't
quite -- as that newspaper's Chief Reporter, for
reasons that Rajan Narayan should know. And finally got
into business. Without regrets.

Chapter 4:
Novem Goem: The Roof Caves In

Paul J FernandesPaul Fernandes, known to journalists in the state for
his amiable nature, as also his ability and inclination
to do off-beat and far-from-the-beaten-track stories,
has published a vast amount on issues that concern
rural Goa, archaeology and the average resident of Goa.
He was recently winner of a Centre for Science and
Environment (Delhi) fellowship to study water issues in
Goa.

Konkani as the official language of Goa was then still
a distant dream. And granting of statehood to the Union
Territory, a remote possibility. A few Konkani
protagonists casually discussing the issue felt that a
medium was sorely needed to project the aspirations of
true Goans. And only a "people's newspaper" free from
the shackles of the capitalist could achieve that, they thought.

A few years earlier, Uzvadd, reincarnated as Novo Uzvadd
and Novo Prakash, had become defunct after its editor
Evagrio Jorge learnt a few bitter truths. The Herald --
in its new English-language avatar as also in the
much-touted role of a champion of Konkani -- was yet to
appear on the horizon.

It was then in 1980 on a dark night ... in Panjim ...
that the idea of launching a Konkani daily was born.
And talk about the requirement of funds for the mammoth
project threw up a novel idea. The way out was a 'pad-iatra
' (or, long march across Goa on foot) through the
villages of the then union territory. At a follow-up
meeting, the individuals involved formed a Trust --
called the Novem Goem Pratishthan. They crowned the
then young seminary-student turned trade union leader
Christopher Fonseca, who floated the idea of a
pad-iatra, as its general secretary.

Trustees were Sara Machado, Advocate Pandurang
Mulgaonkar, Gurunath Kelekar, Dr F M Rebello, Advocate
Antonio Lobo, and Gustav Clovis Costa. Mathany Saldanha
and Fr Braz Faleiro played a stellar role in getting
the idea through.

And so began an eventful, and an unforgettable, 70-day
trudge through the nooks and corners of Goa. There were
some 70-odd volunteers, which included a few women and
two vivacious sisters, Tina and Colete Xavier, students
at that time.

The pad-iatra started on October 26, 1980. Fonseca
recalls that wherever they went, they received a good
response. Money, small and big sums, was contributed.
There were occasions too when -- language being a
sensitive issue in Goa -- they were insulted. But they
had decided not to retaliate in any way. A person spat
on a young pad-iatri, Srikant Chodankar, when he
knocked at his door for his contribution for the new
paper. But he bravely said 'thank you' and stepped out
with the others.

Two of the girls accompanying him burst into tears, as
participants from that venture recall.

The eventful 'pad-iatra' ended on December 31, New
Year's eve. By then, the volunteers had managed to
collect around Rs 250,000, a tidy sum considering that
this was just in the start of the 'eighties, when the
rupee still had more value than now.

Needless to say, it took about six months to create the
requisite infrastructure to launch the daily. Finding
premises, purchasing machinery and recruiting the
staff. When the Novem Goem first hit the stands in
1980, many naturally had great expectations that it
would serve as a people's paper. Several dailies in the
past had not survived for long, given the huge
requirement of funds

Indeed, Novem Goem could not scale great heights; but
it had many 'lows' during its span. The coverage could
not be extensive, nay it was even below average. This
is perhaps understandably because the publication could
not engage a big team of reporters or set up a network
of reporters in all corners of Goa. But it carried to
work with few expectations and fewer rewards.

During the agitation, the tabloid served to keep the
mass of Konkani lovers, specially in its heartland of Salcete,
if it can be called that, posted of various
developments. The paper served to forge a relationship
and bridge the gap between the old Roman Konkani
writers and those who had just started writing in the
Devnagri script. Well-known poets, writers, such as
Uday Bhembre, Dr Bhikaji Ganekar, Manoharrari Sardesai
were among those who often contributed their writings
to the paper.

The paper also sought to raise the standard of Konkani
among its readers by often explaining difficult words,
as compared to the poor quality of writing in most
Roman script periodicals. I myself recall contributing
to a column Aichim Don Utram (Today's Two Words), which
gave the readers two new words to learn daily, with
meanings in English and also illustrated by examples.

'Konkni uloi, Konkni boroi, Konknintlean sorkar choloi'
(Speak Konkani, Write Konkani, Administer The State In
Konkani), the slogan coined by one of the trustees,
Gurunath Kelekar, gained currency and set the mood
among Konkani lovers.

While the paper finally closed down, coincidentally, it
did so after Konkani was included in the Eight Schedule
of the Constitution of India and Goa was granted
statehood -- two of the avowed objectives for which the
Trust had launched the paper. Many may be skeptical
about the contribution of this small paper to these two
great and important causes. But having worked in this
paper for just over three years as a sub-editor, I
recall that Dr Rebello, as its editor, contributed
significantly to the chorus for the twin demand.

DURING THE ENTIRE existence of the paper, its
management had to face several struggles and even
upheavals among the trustees.

Its problems started from the day the presses were set
up. While an offset machine could have been bought, a
Glockner machine owned by one of the Trustees was sold
to the Trust. With that, it was only possible to print
a tabloid paper. The machinery subsequently gave
several problems. How a newspaper cannot survive
without infusion of frequent doses of capital was best
exemplified here. Advertising revenue was very low,
though there were phases when its staff pooled their
efforts to raise funds by canvassing for advertisements
through their own initiative. There were managerial
problems, too. With lack of experience in running a
paper, and negligence by some of the Trustees at
certain stages, the roof finally had to cave in.

A former trustee alleges that the quantum of
advertisements released by the government to the paper
was meagre, and the staff even led a morcha to the
Secretariat, alleging shabby treatment. This continued
even after Konkani was made the official language of
the state.

If the paper survived for around a decade, it could be
termed as a miracle of sorts. There were around 7,000
readers, who religiously read the daily. However, the
poor coverage towards the end saw its readership go
down sharply. The emergence of a slickly printed and
produced Konkani-monthly Gulab also hastened its death.

However, there was no dearth of sympathisers. Gulf Goans
contributed generously, and quite often, to keep it
afloat. But tiatrists were largely not among them as
they showed apathy towards it vis-a-vis advertisements
of their shows. They preferred an English-language
daily and very few advertised in Novem Goem, if at all rarely.

The real heroes and the sufferers in the bargain were
the Novem Goem workers, who toiled during its entire
10-year existence. Lack of revenue meant that they
often received their salaries late. On the 10th of any
month, it was not unusual for the management to
announce they would give some advance on the salary.
For one thing, the salary was being delayed; over and
above, to be told that they would get it in
installments was the ultimate affront. More so when
these were people with families to feed. But this went
on month after month, specially during the last few years.

They were entitled to a scale of salaries under Palekar
Wage Award -- the Central Government-notified standards
then in force for minimum wages to be paid to
journalists -- but they accepted graciously whatever
they were offered. This was, naturally, much below the
Wage Board recommendations.

And the employees, having few options, hung on with
commendable courage, though there was no hope of a turn
around. Their toil and sacrifices were really something
to think about. After the paper closed, they should
have received their dues from what came in as the
proceeds from the sale of machinery and the balance of
a raffle draw, which had been floated to raise funds
for the paper.

But they are yet to be given their due.

The paper finally went to bed for the last time some
time in June 1988. And a novel experiment to offer a
people's paper to the masses made a quiet and sad
exit....

Chapter 5:
The Herald of A New Ethos

R.K. NairR.K. Nair sees himself as a battle-scarred veteran too
(adding, "though close friends in Goa may describe me
as bottle-scarred"). He has 'seen action' in Kuwait and
Iraq after his departure from Goa. Back in India after
the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait, he worked for the Indian
Express. He then went to Oman, returning again to take
up an assignment with the Hindu, where he currently
works.

So the Rajan era has finally come to an end at the Herald
. Sad though it may seem in human terms, it is unlikely
to surprise anyone who has at least a nodding
acquaintance with his brand of journalism -- especially
his strident and sensational approach to contentious
issues, such as the language agitation of the 'eighties.

By the time I arrived in Goa, the Herald (formerly O Heraldo
) had celebrated the third anniversary of its
re-incarnation as an Englishman -- but it was not yet
out of the birth pangs. It often looked like a one-man
show. The six-to-eight page broad-sheet was Rajan
Narayan's play-field, and he played with gusto -- solo
at times, fast and loose frequently. His output was
phenomenal. He wrote the lead story, the front-page
anchor, the edit almost everyday, six days a week, for
several years. Besides, there also was the long-winded
'Stray Thoughts', on Sundays.

Life at The Navhind Times was sedentary by comparison.

In keeping with the image of Goa being a land of
laid-back lotus eaters, the NT staffers were under no
pressure to perform. Being the dominant daily, news
came naturally to the NT. In those days, it operated
out of a small rented building, adjoining a bar and
restaurant, on the outskirts of Panjim as the new
building near the Panjim market was under construction.
The bar and the building belonged to the then Mayor of Panjim,
an affable man whose employees entertained the NT
staffers on credit. The editorial staff got an off-day
after two days of work -- that's 10 offs a month, which
was a luxury that journalists in other papers could not
dream of.

The first thing that struck one about the
English-language Press in Goa in those days was its
utter lack of respect for the readers' intelligence.
I'm sorry if this view offends anyone, but the
small-town mentality, the self-serious posturing and
the patronising editorialisation of news reports were
all too obvious in both the NT and Herald.

But there ended the similarity. In other respects, the
two papers were a study in contrast. Herald was
technologically superior. Having introduced computers
ahead of the NT, its printing was neater but the paper
was replete with errors -- typographical as well as
factual. The NT too had its share of typos. But it made
few factual errors, because, as critics would say, it
seldom reported facts!

The NT used vintage Lino machines for composing and its
antiquated printing machine broke down quite often. The
morning paper hit the news-stands well after 10 am on
such occasions. The printing was awful -- full of black
patches, missing letters and blank spaces that
challenged the imagination of the reader. Still it
retained its readership, mainly because it was
perceived as the more credible of the two.

Rajan Narayan failed to rise to the occasion and offer
a credible alternative. Herald behaved like a spoilt
brat throwing tantrums. It lacked a sense of
proportion. Too often, it played to the gallery, fanned
sectarian passions and threw norms to the wind. With
its rabble-rousing shrillness, Herald managed to gain a
foothold among a section of the Goan population,
especially in South Goa where the NT was perennially
late to arrive. But Herald was not taken seriously even
by its ardent supporters. Journalist Devika Sequeira
once summed up the situation neatly: Herald was
laughable and the NT evoked tears!

All that changed with the arrival of the Gomantak Times
. The NT Chief Reporter Pramod Khandeparker quit to
join the GT. The NT was jolted out of its complacency
-- it was facing a challenge it had never faced before.
Work on the new building was speeded up, and the
relocation carried out in a hurry. Computers were
installed and a new printing machine was ready.

But all that was not enough to ward off a threat from
the rivals. Its content had to improve. Acting Editor
M.M. Mudaliar was in a bad mood. His calm and composed
disposition gave way to a brittle temper. He yelled at
the management people, and threatened to have the
editorial staff sacked.

One day, I diffidently approached him with a piece of
writing and asked for permission to launch a column in
the Sunday supplement. He was reluctant. I was new and
untested. And I was not even a regular -- I was on
voucher payment. But he decided to give it a try and
carried the piece on the front page of the Sunday
Magazine. It was titled 'A peep into Goan psyche'. The
column was called 'Small Talk' and it appeared under
the pseudonym of R.K. Yen. The response to the first
piece was incredibly good. Mudaliar readily published
the second one and, when the third piece appeared, I
got the appointment order.

By then Mudaliar had been confirmed as Editor and the
paper was ready to face the world with new vigour. The
editorial offs were curtailed to once a week. The
printing improved and new features and columns were
gradually introduced. The NT had arrived. The threat
from GT looked feeble now. They had good journalists
and better technology, but had forgotten to hire good
proof-readers. The paper was full of typos, even in
headlines.

The NT was relieved -- at least temporarily.

The arrival of GT had a big impact on the Herald too.
Rajan Narayan began to behave like one possessed. He
blamed Chief Minister Pratapsing Rane and the NT for
all the ills of the world. His frustration was
beginning to show. He railed against the NT and Rane at
the drop of a hat. Once, two people were killed in
police-firing in Vasco following a group clash. It was
the lead in the next day's NT, but the Herald
completely missed the news.

A reader's letter was published in Herald a few days
later: "Where was your reporter when the firing took
place in Vasco? Had he gone to Baina for a quickie?"
The Editor's reply: "We don't enjoy the patronage of
Chief Minister Pratapsing Raoji Rane. So we missed the news."
(As if Rane had called in the NT and given out the news!)

Rajan Narayan is essentially a rhetorician. He has a
way with words and can argue his case convincingly. But
his writings carried little conviction, which was the
major reason for Herald's credibility crisis in those
days. But the fact that he changed the media scene
there cannot be disputed. In my view, the fundamental
error he made was to plunge into the middle of things,
rather than remaining a level-headed observer that a
good journalist is supposed to be. He made an
over-zealous effort to ingratiate himself with a
section of the Goan society and failed miserably. The
fact that even today his Goan credentials are
questioned bears this out.

As everything has two sides, the Herald experiment (if
one could call it that) too had its pros and cons. The
single most significant achievement of Herald, in my
opinion, was to raise a breed of bright young
journalists who cut their teeth in journalism there.
Most of them left disillusioned and bitter with the
paper and its Editor, but they have done reasonably
well elsewhere. But for Herald, they would not have
come to this field.

And Herald did manage to provide some relief (comic
relief, according to critics) from the tedious fare
offered by the NT. It was sharp and pungent -- too
pungent for many. Almost every report packed a sting in
its tail. Some of the fare dished out in the guise of
investigative journalism was just gossip laced with
outrageous bias. But all this lighted the scene up and
served as a reminder to the NT to wake up and take notice.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14