How Latin America discovered me

While working as bureau chief of Pioneer's Hindi daily Swatantra Bharat, I was invited by John Dayal to write a weekly column 'Diplomacy. This column caught the fancy of diplomatic missions in New Delhi. Every other day I was invited to a cocktail party where I met the social elites and corporate honchos as well as diplomats. One was supposed to hold a drink and move around, moving around, exchanging cards and a few pleasantries. Soon I got bored. In one of such moods, I was standing along in a corner in a five star hotel diplomatic do. And an imposing foreigner walked up to me.

 

 " Hi young man. Why are you looking lost?"

" I am looking for a challenge in my life. I am bored of doing the same thing for last ten years."

He gave a broad smile. " What do you do, he asked."

 

"I am a journalist and write on diplomacy".

Where are you from", I played on.

"Colombia. Latin America"

I must have given an unfamiliar look. He caught my confusion.  "Do you know Latin America. People in this country are not aware." He was reassuring in a way.

I took out my card and handed it over. He returned the gesture.

I read it.

David Sanchej Juliao, Ambassdor, Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary. Republic of Colombia.

I tried to be polite. Yes I have heard abou it. But not much.

Never mind. Come, to my embassy 7 Malcha Marg tomorrow at 9 for a coffee. Does that suit you?, he was inviting.

Next morning, I was looking for 7 Malcha Marg just before 9. I gave my card to the guard posted outside the house. He led me to the garden. The ambassador was a well lid out coffee table with two chairs around a table.

He came straight to the point. "Can you produce a magazine?"

"Of course, excellency. That is my job." I was in my elements.

"Great. I want you to sell Colombia to India. Bring out a magazine. I will give you 20k every month and a space to work from in my embassy." I calculated. My salary at that time was Rs 8k. It. "Are you game?"

Of Course. Thansk a ton, ambassador.

He must have found confidence in my voice and mannerism. From next morning, I started producing a 32-page magazine called Colombian File. It was distributed among the fellow Latin American embassies, numbering around 20, ministry of external affairs of India, and business houses dealing with Colombia and the mailing list of the ambassador.

Next day, I hired some staff and started working on the magazine. In next ten days, the first issue came out. It was black and white with his editorial on the cover page and articles from dons of the JNU like Prof S.P. Ganguly and Latin American experts like Lipi Biswas, Ash Narain Roy etc.

I took the magazine to Samlan Khursheed, the then minister of state for external affairs. He flipped through the pages and congratulated me. In a couple of months, the magazine was being discussed in the diplomatic circuit of Delhi. Other Everyone concerned took notice of it.

But all nice things come to an end sooner or later. After five issues, he announced that his tenure was coming to an end. He did n't know, how the new ambassador would react to this initiative. David was an ambassador from public life. He was close to the then president of Colombia and handpicked by him for India.

I kept my fingers crossed. The next ambassador saw the magazine and made a face. I was informed by his secretary that, I would have to pack up. The ambassador found the venture an extra cost on the embassy.

I was sad and heart-broken. But an idea flashed. I rushed to Salman again and gave him the news. He was more than reassuri8ng. Never mind. Change it to Indo-Latin American File.

That is how ILAF was born. I graduated to the whole continent and a half from one country and took an iNdia-oriented approach. MEA liked it immensely. The contributors expanded. So did the matterand subjects.

In next five years, the idea had become an icon.

I was invited by the then President of India Shanker Dayal and the then prime minister P.V.Narsimharao to their state visits to Latin America. I also joined JNU to study for my M.Phil and later Ph.D.

You can't understand Pakistan by reading Indian newspapers. You need to go there

An ordinary Indian has a stereotype image of Pakistan created by reading daily newspapers. For Indian media, Pakistan is a favourite villain to rubbish for shadow boxing. Proverbially speaking, we seem to be giving a dog a bad name and hang him

But Indian electronic media provides a welcome relief through serials like Zindagi providing a pleasant picture of our neighbour. It reminds old timers, a popular radio serial Buddha ghar men hai kya. It had woven around a juicy forays of a lady having a whale of time behind the back of her father. Similarly, Bollywood has done a wonderful job by producing films like Gadar, Bajrangi Bhaijaan, Airlift. Pakistani audience also laps up Indian movies through modern technology despite an official ban.

Pakistan was a part of India forced by Muslim League because they feared that they would be downgraded to second grade citizenship by the Hindu majority. It ended in an unprecedented holocaust comparable to Jewish exodus from Germany after Hitler's cleansing operation. It is roughly estimated that over five millions lost lives on both sides put together. 4.4 million Hindus and 4.1 Muslims migrated from Pakistan and India respectively. But it didn't change the ground reality. Still around 20% Muslims opted to stay in India who enjoy equal constitutional rights and opportunities to grow. A couple of lacs of Hindus also live Sind region of Pakistan  but mainly confined to the rural portion. Unlike India, they can't even think of becoming the president, ministers, top bureaucrats and army Generals.

My friend, philosopher and guide editor Ghanshyam Pankaj gifted me a trip to go Pakistan in late 1980s for about a week. Courtesy the then press secretary in the Pakistani high commission in Chankayapuri, New Delhi facilitated my visa across the table. We had more than cordial relationship with no holds barred on account of tense Indo-Pak relations. We exchanged family visits and had open discussions on the hostile relationship. I frequented Pak chancery quite often.

One day, a got a mysterious call, presumably from Indian intelligence commenting casually that my car was spotted outside Pak's high commission. What's going on? Being a journalist, I was not scared. But soon the caller requested me to share what I was gathering there formally and informally. He revealed that it was his job to collect what was happening around Pak High Commission. I was aware that it was a routine intelligence exercise especially outside Pakistani and Chinese missions. I advised him to read my weekly Sunday newspaper. Because, I immediately report, what I gather. That was the end of our conversation.

Soon I was flying to Pakistan by their international airlines. Majority of the travelers were Pakistani nationals returning after visiting Muslim shrines in India like Ajmer Sharif or their relatives. Incidentally marriage between Indian and Pakistani Muslims is not rare. Sadia Dehlvi, the noted journalist and a daughter of the Dehlvi family of Shama and Sushma magazines fame married a matured Muslim and created a buzz in the social life of Delhi. But he didn't migrate to India. She did visit him regularly. The airhostesses were cordial but stiff. Not half an inch of smile. My next-seat passenger was also a Pakistani. I tried to break ice with him. But he soon shifted to Kashmir which has become an obsession with Pakistanis. Their one-line argument is Kashmir is a Muslim-majority state. Therefore Pakistani has a a settled right on this disputed state. But that is another story.

I had met a Pakistani Latin Americanist in the JNU and we developed a camaraderie. When I mentioned that why not for a common forum for Indo-Pak Latin American exchange of ideas. Her smiling response was ' Here goes another Indian effort to dominate Pakistan" and she guffawed at her own joke.

In an hour's time, I was coming out of the Lahore airport. The custom checker saw my passport and grinned. Oh Hindustan. Janab, yahan kaise ( Sir, how come you have come here? I told him I am the guest of your government to understand Pakistan. He was shocked and didn't mince words. Ajeeb haqumat hai. Pahle aapko mehman banati hai. Phir hame amse jasoosi karvati hai. I could't help laughing at his confusion.

I had done my homework. So I took a cab for Falatte's Hotel . If you click at the Google, it will flash Faletti's Hotel hi tea. In ten minutes, I was checking in the hotel. They seemed to be used to hosting Indian guests. I was welcomed by a broad smile. After a low tea, I asked the manager, I want to visit a hotel. Perhaps, he had not been put this question before. He gave me a blank face but suggested that I go to market and look for a bearded oldest man. He might know. I did that. There were quite a few old and bearded men manning shops. One of them guided me and added that I should walk. It took me half an hour to reach one of the only two Hindu temples. It was a Durga temple. But locked. I was told by th a neighbor, that it opens only for half an hour between 6 and 6.30. It was 6.35. I looked at the idol. It was in an unkempt condition. The next picture that emerged in my mind was of the imposing Jama Masjid ion Delhi and of course Taj Mahal.

My next curiosity was about the Hindus in Pakistan. I checked from the similar elderly locals and even the hotel. Everybody feigned ignorance. They never faced such a situation. But after making half a dozen discreet enquires, I got one lead. I was told that there is one sweeper family belonging to a low caste. They are Hindus. Apart from that Hindus haven't figured in the demagogy of Lahore. A lightening thought crossed my mind that the similar situation was there in the adjoin Indian city of Amritsar. No one talks about Muslims in that city. In fact the largest exodus took place in these cities. Otherwise, hi Lahore had played a significant role in the history of Indian freedom struggle like Congress sessions, Lala Lajpat Rai, Bhagat Singh, DAV college and so on and so forth. But it was all history now.

Anyways, I planned to visit this sweeper family and landed his house next morning. He looked more Muslim than Hindu in his attire and mannerism. I spoke to him in Punjabi and asked him, how come he chose to stay in Lahore when other Hindus left for India. He gave a convincing answer. Sir,  my work is useful for people irrespective of their religion. No Muslim was available to replace me. Hence,  That is how I am here. He sounded comfortable.

My next destination was Islamabad and its twin city Rawalpindi. I took a 20-minute flight and landed in Pakistan's capital. Islamabad was the DIZ (Delhi Imperial Zone) of New Delhi which consists of government servants official quarters and ministerial bunglows. And Rawalpindi reminded me of Chandni Chowk. Crowded, heavy traffic, lanes of shops, narrow lanes leading to old houses.

My hotel was already booked. I visited Indian high commission. They were aware of my trip. They made me comfortable and asked, if I needed any help. I had known J.N.Dixit from South Block. Though a south Indian and married to a Punjabi, he spoke flawless Hindi. I complimented him on that. He didn't take it as a compliment and said, you north Indians don't pick up any of our languages.

In the evening, I was invited by a Indian diplomats over drinks to his official residence. We exchanged notes on how was it working in a hostile country. He said, "difficult but enjoyable at the same time. We are shadowed whenever we go out. There are intelligence people outside our house to keep a track on who was visiting us. In fact no Pakistani dares to visit an Indian diplomat's house"

"How about liquor? I believe it is banned in Pakistan.", I asked

Diplomats and army officers are exempted.

Islamabad was dull and dry like the Chandigarh of olden times. There was nothing much to do or visit anyone, except the officials, who won't talk to an Indian journalist. Hence I left for Karachi.

Karachi was like Bombay. Coastal city. More liberal a. It is the capital of Sind state. The political constituency of ZulfiKar and Benazir Bhutto. I passed by their traditional house. It looked more like a palace. Heavily guarded. I tried to fix an appointment, but in vain.

Sind has the largest congregation of Indian Muslims who crossed over at the time of partition. They are called muhajirs ( refugees). Many Hindus  ( around two lacs) also decided  to stay back here. But mainly in the rural belt. All landed peasants. Their Muslim neighbours had accepted them as a matter of fact. Even Karachi had many Hindu shopkeepers. I bought a camera and had a round of the Arabian sea which was extended up to Bombay and Goa.

Being a journalist, my visit wouldn't have completed without meeting some journalists. I was told about a women magazine. It was a culture shock. The female reporters sprawling all over. But all in salwar-kameez. The jeans hadn't reached their wardrobe. They were amused to receive a male Hindu Indian journalist. We cracked jokes about each other. One of them was more blunt than the others. Youy must be shocked to see so many Pakistani lady journalists. I kept quiet. Pakistan has a high press freedom. Hope you are aware of it., was their parting comment.

But I found out about the Press Club of Karachi and landed there in the evening. No liquor. A few reporters gossiping. They had many questions about Indian media and me of course. It was free, fair and frank discourse. I found them similar to Indian counterparts.

The last rendezvous was Muzaffarpur, the capital of POK ( Pakistan Occupied Kashmir). I was given an escort for security reasons. It was a long drive but it exposed me to the countryside.

I wanted to meet the President of POK Sardar Abdul Qayyum. My escort couldn't hide the fact that he was from intelligence. He tried to proble the real purpose of my visit. Obviously, he found my answers formal and politically correct. I, in then asked him about the status of POK. He was non-committal. But said they can't be trusted.

It was confirmed by the president Qayyum. He said, Kashmir has its own identity and culture. It is different from Indian or Pakistani culture. He tried to explained Kashmiriyat. I broached the issue of training our Kashmiris to disturb India. He said, he didn't invite anybody. They crossover and seek the help of Pakistani army. It is in their interest to help them. But he was more interested in freedom of Kashmir as an independent nation by joining the two parts. He was transparent and honest.

Back to Karachi and I was given a shock. I would have to Lahore, the airport of my arrival to go back to New Delhi. That was the rule between the two nations. I had the air ticket from Karachi to Delhi. But rules didn't permit me to use that. I was told that only an officer in visa office in Karachi. He turned out to be a muhajir from Lucknow. First he acted difficult but when I pleaded, he melted. He asked me give him an application that my father has suddenly fallen ill and I was required to rush back home. It was accepted and allowed to board the flight back to New Delhi.

When an editor complained to President of India against his reporter

·         It happened in 1995. The then president of India Shanker Dayal Sharma was scheduled to go to Latin America on a state visit. The present foreign secretary S.Jaishankar was his media advisor. I sought an appointment with him about the presidential itinerary as the bureau chief of Swatantra Bharat. He called then and there. When I told him that I was also bringing out a monthly magazine Indo-Latin American File si8nce 1992, he was visibly shocked. He flipped through the pages of some issues that I had carried for him. He asked me, if I would put the story of this visit on the cover. I replied, of course. Then he dropped the bombshell.

·         Would you like to to the media team accompanying the president. I couldn't believe my ears and nodded in an instant yes. Go then pack and baggage. He asked his staff to handover a formal invite saying that I have been included in the media team.

·         I rushed back to office and informed my editor Ghansyam Pankaj about the good news as ma feather in my cap. But I saw his face changing colour. From his familiar pink to yellow and then darker. He said but how could they invite you directly. Such invites are sent to the editor to nominate who will go. Then he added with a cynical smile a d traditionally, editors go for such a high profile visit.

·         You are right, Pankaj ji ( that is how I used to address him because we had cordial relations). They have invited me as the editor of Indo-Latin American File. His mind was working overtime to dissuade me. That arrangement was informal and I had chosen to keep it under the wraps. If you go as the editor of that magazine, I will have to inform the management. It was evident that he didn't want me to go. I hadn't anticipated it.  To cut the matter short, I offered to resign. My sixth sense had hinted he might not agree, so I had carried my resignation from my job. I handed him that piece of paper. He didn't expect that. He said, you are resigning such a cushy job just for a foreign trip. Don't bother, I will send you in the next trip. I got up, folded my hands and walked out.

·         Next day, I got another call from Jaishankar. He asked me to see him urgently. I could guess what was coming. I was there in a couple of minutes. He said, he was sorry, as my editor has written to the president that he had not approved the name of his correspondent and instead he would be accompanying the president. The latter asked Jaishankar to look into the matter. Jaishankar was cheesed off. But he had taken a liking for me and said, do you know the minister of state for foreign affairs, Salman Khursheed. I said, yes, he knows me and my work on Indo-Latin American relations.

In next half an hour, I was sitting at 2 Motilal Nehru Marg, residence of Khursheed. I told him the whole story, He asked me not to worry. and called his staff to draft a letter of recommendation to the president. He mentioned about the magazine and the role it was playing in India's relations with the region. He even wrote that I was the most deserving journalist to be a part of this media team. President marked the letter to Jaishankar. He asked me with a surprise. You have resigned. I said yes.

When I reached the airport, I saw Pankaj also with his bag and baggage. He was going on behalf of Swatantra Bharat and I as the editor of IULAF. The grapevine had reached all the media members of the trip. Pankaj, took me aside that let's be friends again. He went out of his way to make me comfortable. It was a memorable trip with my little sprinkling of Spanish during the trip.

How Chavez challenged the brutal might of George Bush

The United States of America has enjoyed the double entendre big brother epitaph in the western hemisphere. It is because it has enjoyed an unchallenged hegemony in the western hemisphere since the second world war.The US and its the then arch-rival the USSR ( now truncated Russia) divided the world in two blocks and fought a cold war. But in 1959, the US decided to test waters by attacking Cuba at Bay of Pigs to eliminate the emerging Communist regime. The USSR rushed to its rescue and the prospects of a nuclear war loomed large. Gone are those days. After a long anti-US posturing including a ban on bilateral trade, Cuba is inching towards The Us for a normal bilateral relationship. President Barack Obama will be visiting Cuba. It will be the first ever visit by a US head of state to Cuba since 1928.

It is the parting statement by the symbolically speaking, most powerful chair in the world hinting that under leadership, the US wants no enemy. However, Venezuela can't be placed in that category.

With Cuba diluting its anti-US profile, the communist bloc wanted a new face to counter the US. With China shifting towards free market economy, there are few countries left with red flag, namely North Korea, Libya and the last but not least Venezuela. Its celebrated leader Hugo Chavez successfully challenged the might of the US and it continues to be a source of inspiration for all those who believe in multi-polar world. Aakar Books is a self-pronounced publisher dedicated. They have been publishing left-oriented books with a straight face. One such back Bush vs Chavez: Washington's War on Venezuela by Golinger.

In this book the author has borrowed from declassified documents, obtained from Freedom of Information Act, and a variety of international sources to uncover an ongoing campaign to contain and cripple the democratically elected government of Latin America's leading oil power. Bush versus Chavez details how millions of US taxpayer's dollars are being used to fund groups--such as the National Endowment for Democracy, The US agency for international development and the office for transition-with the expressed purposed of supporting counter-revolutionary groups of Venezuela. The incumbent Venezuelan ambassador Augusto Monteal is engaged in consolidating Indian support for his cause within diplomatic protocol. He has full support of like-minded intellectuals in India.

These days, publishers have become totally commercial. They publish what sell easily like school and college academic books. Notes and easy to understand help books. Literature has been shifted to basement god owns. Only those authors are published who have long term associations with leading publishers. One publisher gave me a terrible picture of Indian publishing. He said, he used to print calendars earlier. Someone suggested, why don't you publish books. There you sell one copy and get paid for 300 copies, not from one but many state education minister's You will have to share your profit with the ministers. He will clear the bill of 300 copies for the delivery of one sample copy. He would get a manuscript prepared through net-generated matter for Es 3000, then request a vice-chancellor to lend his name as an author and pay him Rs 3000 as well. It is easier to sell books ''authored' by such VCs.

One Hundred Years of Solitude: Lost in Translation

This is a literary mystery. The acclaimed best novel of the last century ' One Hundred Years of Solitude', originally written in Spanish by the Noble laureate Gabriel Garcia Marquez was translated into Hindi by two leading Hispanist lady professors. One of them  was awarded her Ph.D degree from the JNU on her Hindi translation.But alas, the translation is not available in the market.  The publishers claim it is out of stock. The grapevine in the literary and academic circles is that it was withdrawn. It has never happened before.

I also translated it independently for a monthly Hindi magazine 'Aha Zindagi' in 2009 edited by the present editor of Amar Ujaja Hindi daily.Yashwant Vyas. It was serialized for 50 odd months and I was paid Rs 700 per installment. It was fun to translate and send 700 odd words every week to meet the deadline, and an honour for both the language and the translator, as well as the book, of course. But, alas the translation is not available in the market.  Its 58-page excerpts have been included in my creative writings anthology 'Media Lekhan: Srijan', published by Kalpaz.

The novel was conceived by Marquez in 1946 when he was just 18. He slept over the idea for 21 years to write it and  published in 1967. One day, while travelling, he got a flash like Eureka and rushed back home. Told his wife that he was locking himself in a room, not to disturb him except for food. His wife asked him, what if it was not published , if readers didn't like it. Marquez was confident. He replied, they would. And they did. No wonders, it continues to be a bestseller in India. I feel sad for Hindi readers. I hope and prey that its Hindi translation will hit the stands sooner than later. The ball is in Rajkamal's court.

 He was awarded a Noble prize for literature in 1982.It was said in the citation that '100 Years…. was considered to be his best work. But both the translations are not available to readers. One translation was published by the best known Hindi publishers Rajkamal, but it was withdrawn. The reasons are best known to the people concerned. My concern is for a common reader like me. If it was withdrawn because of the quality of translation, then why the other translation done by Manisha taneja was not published.

There are many questions associated to this mystery. Who has the translation copywrite. I belived some -Spain based publisher of original Spanish version has rights in all languages. Colombian ambassador in India told me that they would be more than happy, if it is published in Hindi. But some publisher will have to take an initiative.

It is a great piece of literature for more than one reason. It has been etched like a miniature painting. Every sentence describes the character or ambience. Take for instance an excerpt from page 39 of the English translation done by Gregory Rabassa:

But Jose Arcadio didn't return, nor did they come with the snake-man, who, according to what Ursula thought, was the only son, who could tell them about their son, as the gypsies were not allowed to camp in town or set foot in it in the future, for they were considered the bearers of the concupiscence and perversion. As evident, Spanish is prone to long sentences and even long sentences. One of The Marquez's story The last voyage…. runs in one sentence through many pages.  The novel is set around the Buendia family who creates a new city called Macondo. It is an imaginary city where people have forgotten their past and are trying to come with terms about the new life. The novel is comical and cynical in turns. It is a great case study for any serious student of literature. Translating it more difficult than Cervantes' 'Don Quixote' presumably the first novel written in any language.

Who killed national dailies in India

Chapter 13

Times of India reported on 23rd February 2016 that Great Britain is starting a national daily newspaper called Trinity Mirror. It will be the first national daily in 30 years to be published by the popular Daily Mirror. It is known for its coverage of bold and beautiful literati and glitterati. . What does it mean? There was no national daily in England. Don’t be surprised, even India doesn't have a national daily newspaper. Once upon a time Times of India and Hindustan Times were known as national dailies. Because they used to carry national news on its front page and local stuff buried inside. There were no state or district editions of these national dailies. The Delhi station would be airlifted to the rest of the country and distributed around noon. But now both these national English dailies of yesteryear's and even Hindi dailies like Jagran, Amar Ujala and Bhaskar have district editions. Take a look at Times of India, it will flaunt its editions like TOI South Delhi, TOI Gurgaon, TOI Noida, even Greater Noida. On an average every major daily has around 100 odd editions.

Why? It attracts local FMCG ( fast moving consumer goods ads). Major corporate don't find it worthwhile to advertise in all district level editions. Accordingly, these new avatars display local stories in preference to the so called national stories. Take for instance 23rd Feb TOI> It leads with water crisis in Delhi because of Jat quota stir and JNU students agitation. Both emanated from Delhi city and much lesser impact in the rest of the country. If you look at Noida edition of TOI, it would have published a Noida-centric story, so on and so forth.

Trinity Mirror has claimed in its today's announcement that it will try to reestablish the dignity and honour of national daily. It might be a philanthropic desire but yes to seen how far practical and viable. The demise of national dailies has been mourned all over the world. In the US, New York Times, Washington Post, Christian Science Monitor and Boston Globe are no more national dailies. They have also been reduced to district level newspapers.

There is an exception. Dailies like Hindu in India maintain their stoic posture by taking a national and leftist stance in their posture. People still wait for their Tuesday book review pages. Similarly, Indian Express is identified with its anti-establishment and adversarial point of view. But they are few and far away. A noise in wilderness. They do have a committed readership but in a minuscule percentage. The new generation looks at newspaper only to prepare for the competitive examination. Similarly women folk look at supplements like Delhi Times and HT City. They were launched for its page three coverage. But now the page 3 has been graduated to page one. The times are changing. Let's celebrate.

When I went to support a newspaper in crisis

Chapter 12

It is the story of a fighter Hindi editor Lala Jagat Narain of the popular Hindi daily Punjab Kesari  and his  son Ramesh Chander who were brutally killed by Sikh militants. He had opposed anyone who was anti-national or communal. The then ruling Congress chief minister Pratap Singh Kairon was a ruthless chief minister. He brook no opposition, including the media. He didn't like the opposition campaign by Lala ji through his newspapers in Hindi, Punjabi and Urdu. Kairon disconnected the electric supply to the newspaper in 1972. Lalaji successfully tried to generate power using a bullock cart. The story was flashed in media all over.

I had been in media just for two years and then working for Sarita, the most popular monthly for educated housewives. It highlighted family values, women empowerment and such related issues. The editor asked me to rush to Jallandhar to report the crisis in Punjab Kesari. It was his tactical support to a fellow media house being tortured by political party in power. Otherwise also, it was a popular paper and Lalaji could anticipate the favorable fall out of his gesture.

I landed in Punjab Kesari office and approached Lala ji and his son. The family was delighted to receive a Delhi-based reporter sent by a like-minded popular publication to lend support in the moment of the crisis they were facing. I interviewed the father and son duo. They gave me a detailed version. I witnessed the electricity being generated by their meager efforts. It was no match to the regular supply but it had the desired effect. Kairon government felt uncomfortable. But they didn't aggravate the situation by any harsher means.

I met the media counterparts like Akali Paytika, Tribune etc but they scotched it off. They were fair weather media organizations not rubbing the political power structure on the wrong side. They didn't agree with Lalji's criticism of Sikh militants and the Congress government with dexterity.

The Indira Gandhi government at the center had given a free hand to the chief ministers. She became ruthless, a little later but Kairon belonged to the Nehru era and she understood his stature. She was no friends of media but she didn't want her chief ministers to go too far in taking a stand against media. Thusit was a tricky situation. Sarita editor Vishwanth was also a quintessential fighter. He had unorthodox views on all religions, dogmas, didn't publish cigarette or even such advertisements that used gods. Hindu fundamentalists were up in arms against his publications but he didn't care.

In the present case of Punjab Kesari, he found a worthwhile cause to support. He had no political stand either his writings or thinking. His brief was to report facts based on direct quotes. I spent three days in Jallandhar and met as many people as I could. I even went to the Indo-Pak border with the help of a defence official. I was still learning the basic lessons of journalism.

Lala Jagat Narain knew thathe was treading on a dangerous path. But he didn't relent. His son ionherited the same strategy. He knew he was in a vulnerable position but he was mentally prepared for any situation. After the brutal killings of him and hisson Ramesh Chander in moving cars, his brother Vijay kumar and grandson Ashwini Minna changed their strategy and became moderate in their approach. Vijay Kumar travelled with me as a journalist  to Latin America.

I felt a personal loss, when the brave sons of Punjab died while fighting for the freedom of media.

When Saira heard a bee in Dilip's bonnet

Chapter 11

I was the editor of film monthly Super. I was flirting with positive film journalism. There was a gossip column like Neeta Netter of Stardust fame but we avoided salacious stuff. One day, I got a call from an unknown source. It whispered that Dilip Kumar's wife and an actor in her own right, Saira Bano wanted to give us a juicy story. I was thrilled.

An unknown gentleman landed in my office and dropped a bomb shell. Dilip Kumar was seeing a lady called Asma. They were meeting incognito. Dilip sahib was also visiting her place. I was handed over her picture as well. It deserved to be a cover story. Next day, I received a call from a senior Times of Journalist and film cricket late M. Shamim who was my neighbor for three decades in Press Enclave in South Delhi. I respected him a lot. He requested me not to use the story. I didn't know how to react. The choice between my role as the editor and on the other was a discretion from a senior whom I kept in high esteem.

After a lot of mulling over, I opted to flash the story on the cover and we flashed it at the prime slot. The issue hit the stands on 27th of that month and the bollywood rumour mill caught fire soon after. The freelance photographers used to double up as source also as they moved around studios and star houses to shoot. Many of them called me for sharing the picture. Obviously, Shamim sahib must have felt offended but he never broached the subject even after my return to Delhi and we maintained civil and cordial relations. He was a chip of the old block.

Saira was quite cut up with her husband. They had married late in life. Didn't have any issues. I got another call from the same source hinting at a story idea on the virility of Dilip Sahab. I felt scandalized. I could sense that Saira didn’t want to let off her celebrity husband so easily. It was rumoured that the marriage was on the rocks from the word go. Though, it has successfully continued till date. Recently, she was flashed on his side at his 90th birthday.

These days, I am hooked to Z Classic channel which is airing Dilip Kumar starers like Devdas and Madhumati. He is a great actor and a heart throb. I was his ardent fan and saw his films like Leader, Mughal-eAzam. I met him only once on the sets of some film at Rajkamal Studio. I was introduced him and we exchanged some small pleasantries. A thorough gentleman and no airs around him. I wish him a long and healthy life and will always remain his admirer.

When Hira Mandi prostitute asked me to give Kashmir

Chapter 9

Hira Mandi is the famous red light area of Lahore. It has figured in the stories and novels of Urdu literature both in Hindi and Pakistan. One day in 1989 my editor Ghanshyam Pankaj asked me if I would like to go to Pakistan for a first hand report. I couldn't believe my ears but gratefully accepted the offer. I was quite friendly with the then press advisor Mubarak Shah at Pakistan High commission in New Delhi. We have visited exchanged visits for dinner and drinks. He was liberal Muslim and top of that a Pakistani diplomat posted in India. He would bolt his room and have smoke even during Ramzan. We shared mutual admiration and expressed free and frank opinions about each other's governments and leaders. I visited him the same day and broke the good news. He fixed an interview with the Pakistan High Commissioner who asked some formal questions and granted me visa. Next week I boarded a flight of Pakistan International Airlines for Lahore. Shah gave me some phone numbers and promised that he would call them to make my visit comfortable.

The flight was an educational experience. The Pakistani air hostesses were more than formal. Almost distant and matter of fact. I could feel that the Indo-Pak tension was writ large on their faces. It was 80 minute flight and I didn't realize when the arrival was announced. I had been suggested the Falletti's Hotel. This information was given to me by old timers who had migrated from Lahore in 1947. When I was coming out from the airport, the  custom officer was cynical towards me. He even suspected the purpose of my visit.

He asked me a straight question about the purpose of my visit.

I gave an equally frank answer. Your government has invited me to study the situation there. He was shocked. His cryptic reaction was what a government. First they invite you, then  ask us to screen and frisk you. Don't be surprised if you are shadowed by our intelligence. The whole trip kept on reminding me about i8t. I took a taxi and headed towards Falletti's. The hotel staff was more than cordial. After checking in I decided to take a walk in the city. I asked the manager if there was a Hindu temple in Lahore. He was flabbergasted. But politely expressed his ignorance. He advised me to an old Lahore shop who, he thought would be knowing. I found that shopkeeper and after a suspicious look, gave me the direction but advised to take a rikshaw. I did the same.

In ten minutes, I as stranding in front of a dilapidated temple like structure. It was locked. I was told that it opens only for half-an hour from 6 to 6.30 every day. I checked the watch. It was 6.40. But I could see a Durga idol behind the iron railings. I moved on. The instant thought that struck me was that there was a mosque at every corner in all the cities of India. And Delhi topped the chart. That was the first comparison that I drew.

I returned to the hotel and decided to turn in the bed. As such, It was going to be a crowded day after the night. My brother late Pawan Gupta was keen to accompany me in the trip. So he tagged along. He was more curious than me and taking full interest. He had discovered a contact in Lahore. We called him and he arrived in no time. I couldn't resist my temptation to ask about Hira Mandi, the famous red light street of Lahore. I had read about it in the stories of Manto, Rajinder Singh Bedi and Ismat Chughtai. The local chap smiled and just murmured. Never mind, we shall take you there but won't step up the stairs of those prostitutes quarters. I kept quiet. After the dinner we landed at Hira Mandi. He knew about the most famous brothel.

I had visited its counterpart G.B.Road in old Delhi as a young reporter with the help of Kamla Markt Police station and was familiar about the atmosphere. As we entered the bright, well-lit room of the head madam, I was visibly impressed. Delhi's G.B.Road is a filthy slum, full of pimps, cheaply painted girls and total darkness in the stairs leading to 200 odd kothas. The madam was all smile and welcoming.

My Pakistani host introduced me a senior journalist from Hindustan and had come there specially to meet her. She looked overwhelmed. I looked around the room. It had pictures of young children in public school uniforms. I threw a question mark. She said, my children. They live in hostel. I want to keep them away from this atmosphere and give them a different future. No comparison to the Indian prostitutes who were victims of cruel pimps, police and madams.

She started talking to make me comfortable. She asked me what would I drink. She flaunted all brands including Chivas Regal,Glenfiddich et al. I nodded in negation. She asked me what I did and where I lived. Why I had come to Pakistan. She was surprised that I had gone there to understand Pakistan and would write about it in a famous newspaper. She asked me a polite question?

What should I offer?

That was a broad hint, if I wanted a female company from her repertoire.

I hurriedly said, no not that. My visit is more for being aware as I was familiar with the name through books.

You must be knowing ministers in your government. I politely nodded, yes, in a way.

You must be meeting them often.

Now and then, I tried to evade the subject.

After some days, you would be going back home. didn't understand where she was leading me to.

I  again nodded. 

I have a request. I thought, she was hinting at payment. After all I was wasting her time. I took out my purse.

She  said a firm no, thanks. You are our honoured guest. And then you didn't avail of any services. But I want a favour?

When you go back to Hindustan please ask your government to give us our Kashmir.

Mohturma if I had, I would have given you an arm.

She burst into a laughter.