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19 not out
By Elia
LAST month I completed 19 years in
the second oldest profession in the world (of course,
everybody knows about the oldest profession). Some of my
colleagues feel that the second oldest profession has
started resembling the first. But this is nothing
unusual. The BJP and the Congress sometimes look alike.
I joined journalism as
an apprentice reporter though the editors had tested and
interviewed me for the post of an apprentice sub-editor.
Being a student of law, I understood a little about the
Constitution and jurisprudence (my favorite subject) but
not having attended any journalism school I had no idea
about either reporting or sub-editing. Yes, I did imagine
that a sub-editor would be an editor in the making; not
the reporter.
I flopped on the first
day itself. At the morning meeting, the news editor
asked, "What story are you doing today." After
a meditative pause, I replied; "Sorry, I have never
written a short story in my life". Everybody
laughed. But those were great days. The resident editor,
a rather kind man, looked at me affectionately and
explained that in journalism everything is a story be it
a press conference, a press release, a public meeting,
etc.
The same evening I faced
another crisis. I did not know how to type. I was used to
write in long hand. I had started writing letters to the
editors of different newspapers while I was in school.
Any way, the typing problem was solved soon. One of the
colleagues taught me the fundamentals of the writing
machine in a second. I fell in love with the typewriter.
In later years, whenever I and my wife fought, I would
threaten to divorce her and spend the rest of my life
with the typewriter my most trusted girlfriend.
Now whatever you say about computers, including the
laptops, these are simply sophisticated typewriters.
One of my honourable
colleagues of yester years used to say; "Let the
ideas travel from the fingers to the keyboard."
Words of wisdom. It is another matter that as a student
of psychology, I understand that the ideas flow from the
brain only.
This particular
colleague of mine still loves to act as a big sister to
newcomers in the profession. She can speak non-stop and
is lyrical when she has to talk about her stories. Those
days it was said about her that either she is discussing
herself (obviously not allowing anyone else to speak) or
people talking about her.
Waris Shah, the
celebrate Punjabi poet writes, "Waris Shah Adatan Na
Jandian Ne, Phanven Katian Porian Porian Ni." It
means, habits never die. My habits too have not died.
Since childhood, I have been fond of roaming around
aimlessly and then landing up at the club to play table
tennis. During the past 19 years, I have worked for five
newspapers, one magazine, two foreign news agencies and
one broadcasting corporation. Like my honorable colleague
who taught me how to use typewriter, I too suffer from
the same problem talking all the time. Thank god,
I rarely talk about my stories. I talk about more juicy
subjects like Mirza Ghalib and Manto. Luckily, my house
is located near a table tennis hall. I go in the evening
to watch a game of ping-pong, my childhood passion. At
43, it is difficult to play TT with youngsters.
How about journalism?
Still watching. 
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