My beginnings at news

My beginnings at news

It was the end of 1980 or 81 when I applied to read news at AIR. At the audition I saw thousands of people. We were all huddled into different rooms, some spilling out into the corridors as well. There were people from far off places, as well as locals. Many of my colleagues, already working with AIR in different capacities and different departments were also there. Some of us were college mates as well as fellow broadcasters who hung around together, doing things together, almost as though there was safety in numbers.

We had no idea what was expected of us, except that perhaps we would be quizzed on news and current affairs and of course a voice test taken. Some asked each other questions, on the days happenings and also names of prominent people that seemed difficult to pronounce.

Anyway, one by one, we went in. Inside the room, there was no one in sight, the only large glass window was also boarded up. The room was carpeted, with white acoustic boards on the walls, a clock and a microphone were the only other props. Just before I entered I was handed a paper with a few words on it and a paragraph. As soon as I reached the centre of the room where the microphone was, a voice crackled on the speaker and asked me to begin reading into the microphone, everything that was on my sheet. It was a little scary, but that’s what broadcasting is all about, sitting in room all alone and communicating to somebody, anybody, everybody out there.

So I began.... half way into the sheet, I was thanked and asked to step out. Just like that, no explanation, no trace of approval or disapproval. Outside, the sheet was taken away, as fast as it was given and I was asked to check the bulletin board in a week or so, for the results.

As soon as I stepped out everyone wanted to know what I was asked and what I did….. the words, were they difficult or familiar etc. It was of no use I said as different sheets were given to everyone and no one could remember all the different words on them. Anyway, I did get selected, but there was another round of interviews to clear before we got anywhere near the newsroom. 

The newsroom was a sacred space for many of us. As announcers we saw the newsreaders, many of them, veterans, come to the studio at the appointed hour to read the bulletin and they would come in quietly read and leave, as quietly. Accompanied by a busy editor who would put newscards under the newsreader’s nose or a peon who would rush in with the latest updates, it was high drama, to watch and you had to be quiet through it all. The only microphone that was live was the newsreader’s and so you had to make sure you did not do anything to distract or draw attention away from her/him. While this is happening,  you have get the next program tape or jingle or announcement cued, so that as soon as she or he said, “ That’s the end of the news”, you were ready to go live again.

So that was the brief window, when you got to see the great masters at work, and marvel at their composure, their utter professionalism, their perfect diction and modulation and unflappable quality. I would watch as though this was a performance just for me, but as unobtrusively as possible… I got to see the legendary Roshan Menon, Pamela Singh, Latika Ratnam, Surajit Sen , Sushil Jhaveri, Sushma Sharma, Sphurti Sinha, Barun Haldar Vijay Daniels, Harish Kashyap, Manohar Kaul…names one had only heard, over the radio. All at close quarters. 

The time spent in the studio then was precious,  it also made you think about how you would perform in the same circumstances. Early lessons on how certain words and certain news items were to be handled, time management and the voice modulation from one item to another.

Coming back to the interviews, I had a tough round, there were several people on the interview panel, some I had no clue of, some I recognized from the organization and there were others who were there because they had to be there. Anyway I was asked questions on my experience in radio, familiarity with news and current affairs, even commentaries and why I wanted to do news. I was even asked whether I would stick around or was I doing this only as a hobby, a pastime. 

Soon I learnt I was selected and had another interview with the Chief News Reader Mr Sushil Jhaveri. Mr Jhaveri was very "English" in his habits and so I was a little nervous. But he immediately put me at ease and appreciated my voice and style and told me that he would soon put me on the bulletins to read. It was the Asian games and so I was busy with the games as well, as I had been shortlisted to do commentary for football and also as an announcer under the legendary Melville De Mellow. So one had to flit between AIR studios, Nehru Stadium and Pragati Maidan and attend college as well. It was only getting tougher. 

AIR decided to broadcast sports bulletins of 5 minutes duration, every half hour and they had to be done at breakneck speed, so that coverage of all the disciplines could be done. Only a few newsreaders could do these special bulletins as they needed speed, accuracy and calmness. I was the only one selected among the newcomers and enjoyed the racy bulletins. Each time I would urge my editors to get me more items to read so that I would be able to do justice to more and more disciplines, which otherwise got trashed.

Reading bulletins for the Asian Games gave me tremendous confidence and also practice with strange sounding names and nationalities. But before that Mr Jhaveri did put us through some training by engaging me and a couple of others to do some research. We used to arrive at the newsroom early, and be with him till his shift ended, which was a five hour shift with four or five bulletins to read. 

We saw how he corrected his copy and also how he marked it. But more importantly we had to read the papers in the morning and take down the most difficult names or words to pronounce and if they were regional names, then go to the different language units in AIR and ask the newsreaders for the native pronunciation. We had to write down these down phonetically in Devanagiri and then after having got them checked by Mr Jhaveri inscribe them in the dictionary, that would be available to all newsreaders to consult, as well as, copies of the daily updates sent to the different language news departments.

This daily exercise helped me immensely,  as one interacted with regional newsreaders who helped you pronounce words in the native way so that you were accurate and as close as possible to the original. It also helped develop a keen ear for the delicate inflections or phonetic peculiarities.  

We also had to call up the different embassies to get the correct pronunciation of the foreign names and this was even more exciting. I made a lot of friends doing this and I enjoyed compiling the new words into the dictionary. Besides it felt good to be able to say the names of people and places accurately, sometimes so accurate that people mistook you to be from the same region. 

The emphasis of being as close to the native pronunciation as possible was a lesson I learnt very early and has stayed with me for ever. Mr Jhaveri also had many comments to make about commonly used words that were grossly mispronounced by many of us and the repeated correction by him made us aware of our language, diction, and delivery. I cannot thank him enough for all the personal care and attention he gave to me.

Another vital lesson I learnt being a newsreader with AIR was being punctual. Since the newsroom is open round the clock and newsreaders were to be present throughout, duties were divided among 30 or 40 of us who were casual workers along with the 10 regular employees. The good ones were understandably used for the main bulletins, while the others did the rest of the shifts. Since many of the casual newsreaders were employed elsewhere during the day, a substantial number of them would opt for the graveyard shift, which was the most physically challenging being from 12 to 6 in the morning.

Even though the bulletins in this shift were largely broadcast overseas, they were still monitored and often the newsreader was summoned if any mistake had been committed. So there was no room for slackness and each of us had to be punctual so that no one did a double duty or got relieved late.

Learning to mark copy and also to rephrase lines written by editors under pressure was a whole new ball game. Especially when you read the main bulletins.  Its necessary to have a certain style and know whether you can fit in all the news items within the stipulated time since it is LIVE and not a recording, you also have to be able to do this silently and not make any noise in the studio. The team of Editor and Newreader and Assistant Editor, has to all, to be in tandem. The ability to be able to modulate your voice without anyone guessing the pandemonium going on inside, is another quality you have to learn and emulate. There cannot be a better learning ground than Radio for this. I am eternally grateful for getting the opportunity to do this.

Notes on Life or making a note of your life....

Making a note of your life

Its strange to be told, that one should be making notes on your life, because you always think there will be time to do that one day….. when nothing else remains. This whole exercise in vanity, has begun because a friend goaded me everyday until I gave in. I don’t know if any of my rantings will make sense to anyone but me, but what the heck, at least it will make good reading when my memory will also fail. The task of writing makes me shudder because even though I have many vivid memories of events and people who have entered my life at various moments and moods, I shudder to think how they will react to the sharing I intend to do…………so I will try to be as truthful as is possible.

Life has been kind to me, or should that read as, God has been kind to me. I don’t know which is right, but, hey feel free to interpret it, as you want. Does any of this really matter? How I lived or who was in my life, what did I achieve, who did I meet, how many hearts did I break or how many broke mine?

I know one thing, that I could not have done it alone…..it would have been no fun. Its amazing, the power of a single human being.  How much you can be affected by or through someone. I have had the good fortune of knowing some incredible people up close, who have in their myriad ways influenced me or shaped me into being ME !!.

I was a much desired baby…as my parents had waited for six long years before deciding to have me …and they were so sure of what they wanted…a little girl….only. When you come into the world with so much love around you, there can be no going back….you want love and cant have enough of it…..you thrive in it and want to give some back…you see love around you …..you breathe, eat, sleep in it…anyway it was a blissful childhood…because, I was the centre of their universe in a nice way not in the obsessive mean way…..after all I did have an elder sibling who was a big bro to me…..

My Companion for a decade and more.....

....they say when you hold a baby or a pup close to your heart, you are that much closer to heaven...We have had pups and dogs around us all the time....never knew a day without them.....it feels strange now not having my constant companion...my partner...my buddy ..here with me ......I still remember the day we went to get him...in fact we were not sure we would be able to have him, even though Shubha Di had said she had a pup for us...Sahil my son was most excited...he had no sibling...this was his chance to have someone he could play with and call his own....his bro....all this while he had an imaginary friend...now it was all set to change...when we arrived we were completely taken by surprise...there he was .....just made for us....a bundle of white and brown and pink paws....we were smitten....Sahil would not put him down and I was apprehensive...having never raised a Dalmation before and a liver spotted one at that....Sahil had clean forgotten that Dalmations are traditionally black and white... and this one was so sparsely spotted and with brown instead of black dots.........almost as though he has walked out when the paint job was being done..Champion had been christened even before he was seen by Sahil...for him it was either Champion or Buster... and this one was nothing less than a Champ.....

He was a nice dog.......even though he  got car sick...a brave pup who smelled a Rottweiller right back when he  became curious of this bundle in Sahil's lap as we searched for a Vet nearby....Soon he was housebroken after days of cuddles and training....Champion was home and like how.....the neighbours were petrified of his bark and even more of his bite...and could he bite....as some of our friends would stand to learn....he had bitten three of them....just a nick ....and was admonished before he could do any more damage...so soon, we were the proud owners of the "Beware of Dog" board outside our door.

He never soiled the house...never chewed any shoes or slippers...but he loved to chew his mattress and any paper I chucked into the bin......yes,it had to be something I chucked.. and he would pick only that one out....sniff it out!!... I even joked about his penchant for strips of cloth asking him if he was a tailor in his last life, at which he would look so sheepish that you forgot why you were angry with him!!

That he had music in his blood was evident when the Guruji who used to teach Sahil would come for his weekly lessons and the most eager student would be Champion, who would park himself next to Guruji, who, never took offence at this unusual "Shagird".. After the warm up classes Champion would join in and add to the riyaaz with his soulful renditions... and the Guru would indulge lovingly...

soon Champion learnt to smile on command....he had many other qualities too....like being able to figure out when I was leaving to work and cleverly lying down on my saree as I tried to drape it.....like waiting to eat the bones after dinners and parties but never begging for them...or eating without being asked to..... he was a gentleman dog...well behaved and completely civilised....he also never leched...never ran after bitches or even so much as tried to cavort...he knew he was very special... and a snob.....after all he was a Champ....!!

Thirteen years and three months...he gave us an incredible lifetime of love, laughter, licks, bites,barks,wet noses, free bathing sprays and no ticks ! He was a clean dog, who.hated ticks, flies and ants...would not allow any of them to live or sit on him. Trips to the Vet were regular and he would not allow anyone else but the doc to touch him....Today he leaves behind a void.....a deep vaccum a family that aches to hear his patter on our shiny floors...we want to see his smile...his thumping tail....his occasional bark....the persuasive and persistent wet nudge of his nose....eyes that were so deep.... that spoke many tongues....we miss our  friend and friend and baby and bundle of joy and love and fur....He left us on the 23rd  night of July this year to join his mates in heaven and continue to live a leash free.... eternal existence...we will love him always....

Independence woes....


For several years I had followed a clear pattern...when everyone else caught up with their sleep, I was awake and ready for work...because I would be on duty either reading news or giving commentary at the strategic spots where the national ceremonies took place. Being awake meant a great deal to me...it meant, I , along with the soldiers who were standing guard at various posts around the country had an important task and I could not fail my country. Sounds pompous, but if you do not take pride in your work and in your calling, who will?  How could I expect anyone to listen to me? 


Today, on these special days, as I watch my neighbourhood slowly awaken, I think back to those moments....the thrill of listening to Indira Gandhi / Rajiv / Narasimha Rao / Atal Bihari Vajpayee and a host of others at the Red fort, the excitement of the ceremonies as they unfolded before me, the bright faces that attend such functions, the crispness of the uniformed personnel,. ...the palpable tension before the prime time news bulletin....the knotting of your stomach, the sudden sharpness of breath..... even today I can feel the thrill. It was my moment...when I had the audience completely to myself..... I loved it...and still do....


But now I see such days as legit excuses to sleep a little more...to not follow any patterns.... to break routines and indulge.....to sit back and reminiscence....to jog one's memory and recall events, people and special moments. Today I listen to patriotic songs belting out from the community hall...children still forced to dress up and play out adult fancies....why do we make them sing songs and parade and salute and wear costumes and run races and all that?....can't we leave them alone?....or maybe we shouldn't...how else will they remember what this day is? How will they understand why we celebrate such occasions while others will go for a movie, party or sleep in?


Freedom !!  

To My Mum.....Mee as I call her....

She’s petite but packs a punch, 
...she’s silent but her voice holds you,
...she’s my mum,
....strong, silent and rock solid. 
A lioness she is, and all of us draw immense strength from her. You can see it in her eyes, in her tender hugs, in her caring gestures....a love that simply is enough. 
I discovered my mum late ....but not too late....I discovered that love that only moms and daughters know.


It’s a friendship that continually seems to grow, despite reaching points when each is frustrated with the other. You get used to it...the changing styles of her hair, sense of dress, her life choices and yours....you are as much a part of it, as is she.....each of us influencing and yet appearing to be completely different people. Yet, we derive joy from each other, from knowing that the other is there, to care, to understand, to lend an ear or hold the hand and to celebrate memories that we share. To pass on what we learnt and experienced. 


Mums are expected to always be there, to be able to drop what they do and pick up from where you left off...to answer my questions, to listen to my “small talk”, to say I am “the best” even if I am not...to be there when I climb the walls....even to be there, when I don’t feel like talking.... to somehow understand.....and most importantly NEVER expect me to reciprocate any of this....


Today I know...cos I am a mother too and I wished I had cared more, listened more....shown more to her......even though I know she understood ....I know its still, not late for me ....so I want her to know 
....She is my "anchor" to this life -
The "rock", that I cling to 
The place, where I can turn when, nowhere else would do. 


To some LOVE is just a word...to me it is a whole galaxy of feelings.
Its a feeling I get every time I look into your eyes, a feeling I get when I realize you are MY Mum...a mother who loves, shares, inspires unconditionally. That to me is love... a mother’s love one that can only be felt.


You Mee have returned that love time and time again...many times in immeasurable terms
...many times in intangible ways
...nevertheless you did
Thank-you Ma,
Thank-you for being there, when I needed you most,
For being my rock, when I should have been, YOURS.
Thank-you for believing in me, even when I doubted myself,
For being the one person I could trust,
No matter what, no matter where
But most of all, thank you for being you
MY MOM
A mom I am so proud to claim, as MINE....I love you.



We're daughters and mothers, blessed with a love we receive and pass on
...a precious heirloom
...a spiritual cardigan that keeps us warm
....I treasure what you have given me
...and hopefully one day, when the role gets reversed, will pass it on and yet get back, what I need the most
....Your love
.....Happy Birthday Mee !!

My Address to freshers at JMC 2010

My address to freshers at JMC 2010 Gosh!!  nothing seems different....there you are and here I am...this is where I stood for many days for three years of my life, leading assembly some 29 years ago, when I was your age.
Sister Marina John, members of the Faculty, parents of meritorious students and friends,
It is indeed an honour for me to be here once again, this time as a guest, this morning at my alma mater. A heartfelt thank you, for inviting me to this Parent Teacher Student association meet.  
I have the unique privilege today of saying this to you, that before any of you students were born, I was studying in Jesus & Mary College.
Twenty-nine years ago, when I walked into the portals of this college, seeking to mould myself into being significant and spectacular,  I was then, like many of you today, a teenaged, naive and yet “know it all” girl. College was my ticket to freedom, to being finally counted as an Adult.
I had secured admission to not one, but to three elite colleges of Delhi! The colleges were St Stephen’s, Lady Sri Ram and Jesus and Mary, with JMC being last on my priority list. But just before I was to make up my mind finally, I decided to check JMC out very grudgingly.
I walked in very sure that I would reject it outright....after all, having always been in co-ed schools, why would I settle for an all girls college... and specially for one that sounded severely austere and monastic!.
Well, I was in for the surprise of my life....walking down the corridors of Jesus and Mary college, I noticed the walls were clean, the floors were cleaner, and the corridors were silent....there were sounds, but they were muffled and there were no paan stains, no beedi stubs, no crumpled paper, the place was absolutely sanitized ..... and in the classrooms....there were whole desks and chairs, not benches and broken furniture.... and the window panes, were all intact...not one broken or hanging on its hinges....
I was convinced that I was in the wrong place...how can this be a college, this was worse than the most disciplined convent school. Absolutely sure that this was not going to be my choice, I happily traipsed down the isolated corridor only to stop to watch, as someone was walking down purposefully from the other end. She was tall, and her robes were flapping behind her as she strode down the corridor, each foot making a clicking sound as it touched the clean floor. She was very sure of herself and looked like she owned the place. Behind her there was a huge dog, no maybe it was a calf...no no, it moved rather quickly and it most certainly looked like a dog.
I just stood there, mesmerised by her stride and waited as she approached...soon I was looking up at her and I saw these steel grey blue eyes, that belonged to a tall Nun in a grey habit. In her firm voice, she asked me what I was doing in her college and how she could help me. I was not going to be scared by a nun, or at least show her that I was, even if she was rather tall, so I said well, I am here to check your college out. I was taken aback when she said, Come to my room. I followed her up to the room, not knowing she was the Principal. That afternoon, I spent time with a most fascinating woman. Her conversation with me touched on the most bizarre and unexpected topics, we shared knowledge of each other’s lives and she told me of how she gave up her successful business in Ireland to become a nun and her love for India. She was Sister Agatha McLoughlin and if there was one singular reason for me to be in JMC, it was because of her.
She was an angel, but also a stern task master, which we discovered to our consternation, a few months later and of course she was difficult to please, as some Principals can be, but she was also surprisingly the most popular Principal of Delhi University, the only one with Groucho beside her. Groucho was the calf I mentioned earlier, I mean the sheep dog. She was most popular among the boys who came to our festivals and who, despite getting their ears pulled for plucking flowers from her garden to present to her, would be invited to share cake and tea with her. That was Sister Agatha, even today I am surprised when I meet grown men who tell me about their special relationship with her....well, we did keep in touch intermittently for many years, till she passed way.
If you are wondering why I am sharing all this with you today...it is to let you know that this college and the time I spent here was the most exhilarating and I had a blast...never once did I regret not going to St Stephen’s, (that was on the top of my wish list) nor to LSR (which I was sure was not for me). Suffice to say, that three years flew by and I lived each moment thoroughly...packing it with activities, academics and much drama...that, as you know by now, you never run short of, in an all girls college.
I won’t bore you with details of many funny incidents that my batch mates and I, often chuckle over. Like all batches before us and those that followed, we too were given up on, by our teachers, who dreaded what we would become, because we were more out of class, than in it. But we charmed our professors with all we had, whether it was fighting with them to have a festival with boys visiting us or a play or a rock show or even skip the mandatory tutorial occasionally. I can see many teachers still here, who taught me, and I should tell you that many of the alumni, still remember each of you fondly, as we exchanges notes often.
Incidentally, we also had the good fortune of having the first male professor in our time. I know you’re probably thinking, what’s the big deal about that, but for us and for Perdie as he was lovingly called, it was a big deal. He was the centre of many of our pranks which he graciously and laughingly endured, from mass bunking of his classes, to his shoelaces being tied, to make him fall.
Yes, we did manage to tie his laces one time.....But, make no mistake, we were also a charming bunch of girls...and so charming that this male professor, Perdie, went on to marry one of us and she now is a Professor with you. I leave it to you to find out, if you don’t know by now, who she is.
Well, girls, the one big mistake many of us make is to take our college experience for granted, as just a small step between high school and the real world. I hope you don’t make that mistake. This is the best period of your life and don’t let anything or anyone take that away from you...along with great learnings,  you get to experience, to live and to make your own choices... Up to this point in your lives, most things have been decided for you. Although you may have been getting plenty of advice on what to do or choose for you future, from now on, it is up to you to choose. I say make a choice when you are fully awake, a choice that is informed by your heart and not by what others say or think or believe.
It’s sad that people don't look at college education as “schooling for life”. College has become a kind of a rat-race; the value of a degree is often based on social perception rather than concrete education. The nicer the college one is accepted by, the better it looks on your resume, and the more likely you are, to get a job — at least, thus goes the general belief.
There is a strong conviction among most young people and it’s not entirely misplaced, that the choice of college and the subjects chosen, will shape their lives. My personal belief is that everything around you, shapes and colours your life and most of it is done in your mind, your thoughts make you what you are and what you become. I am saddened to see many pursuing higher education, because they have nothing better to do, specially young women, who often end up seeking a degree, of least interest to them, in the hope of biding time before a predictable and arranged marriage.
In our pursuit of more, and more, one doesn’t remember to live with values that were once taught to us. This is critical to our development as a generation and as a people - the learning, of how to live your life, how to be true and honest to yourself, to your potential and to people around you. It begins here, at college when you are not being constantly monitored, tutored or relentlessly told what and how to do. This is where you actually begin to shape your future and this where you need to be extra conscious of your surroundings, of your readings, of the people in your life and of course your goals. Make no mistake, in college, you do gain a wealth of knowledge, learn to think in more complex ways, and begin to come into your own as a young adult. My advice to you, don’t get involved in more activities than you can handle and spread yourself too thin, be realistic and give priority to your goals.
But I do say, use your college education and the associations and friends therein, to help you master the TEXT BOOK OF LIFE. Our contribution to the world, will not be measured by the money we make or the accolades we receive, but rather by the way in which we share our unique gifts with the world. Today's achievements, (and many of you are here for the special recognition that the University of Delhi confers on you) may fade or even be forgotten. The applause may become a distant memory and your certificates and medals may gather dust on a shelf or in a drawer. But, you will always be remembered for caring enough, for helping someone, for making someone feel special and appreciated and for being the kind of person that others enjoy spending time with.
So Ladies, as you face and tackle the inevitable changes that will unfold in your lives, hold true to yourself. Remember to hold onto your value system, your work ethic and most importantly, your humanity. It is these qualities that will guide you further, on your journey. Channelize these into making your life, an act of grace.
While you move on to greater achievements, I hope you will also take time out, to thank your parents for the sacrifices they make every day to give you this unique experience of higher education. For, without their support and encouragement, you will not travel far.
Gratitude in larger measure, should also go to the faculty and management, of institutes such as JMC, which create and shape, thinking individuals, humane and caring individuals, such as you.
So in the end, I can only suggest to you here, to choose well..
choose to share and partake,
choose to be fearless and true,
choose to honour and regard
and choose to live a life full of relish and involvement.
Let me leave you with a quotation from John Updike...”You cannot help but learn more, as you take the world into your hands.  Take it up reverently, for it is an old piece of clay, with millions of thumbprints on it. “
Fear not errors and omissions that you will make, but enjoy the exposure and glory in it all ! Your life is a fabulous opportunity  - I have no doubt that you will make the best of it!
Thank you.

How does one begin? To blog or not to blog...has been a question that has hung in my to do cupboard for eons. Today I took the plunge. Triggered by an argument with a friend. No, this is not an angry response, just a way for me to express my anguish and feelings.

The argument was trivial in hindsight...when it happened it was not... it  grew and grew every passing moment to finally silence us both. Then the silence was unbearable and as always I had to take the first step. Make the first move...say the magic words and hope that it would make us both see sense.

It did. That's how this blog finally appeared. I wanted to speak, to anyone....just be heard.... and to hear....its not enough for me to just see text.. I need to hear voices, listen to inflections in them....hear the voice breathe and enunciate....that works like a touch pad for me....words come alive....emotions play their part....faces and eyes have roles to play just as thoughts do .....today my mind is lighter...having spoken and having heard....
...today I realised that my relationship will only get better if yesterday's argument does not stop today's communication.