So I wanted to stand up for a cause. Witty, to the point, suave, sensitive, courageous and not at all feeble minded that’s what I thought a khaki clad journo was like. The memories from my one news channel days only made me feel a sense of respect for professionals from this field. And so when I had to make a choice I went for it.
Post high school I went in for an arts graduation. 3 years of my graduating life I breathed about getting into a top notch j-school and getting into my world. The world where, as a prominent newspaper ad says, “Where there is light.” I wanted to be in the light. Not the light of breaking news ( oh they feel so clichéd now!!!) not about some mega star getting a tattoo, not about marriages , not about stupid fights, not about men giving birth to babies!!!! But about the power that pen beholds. My dreamy eyes never saw that the journalists are making news, not finding them. They aren’t the lighthouses of the society, no more.
And here I stand on the foothills of entering into a brand new world. But alas I can never be a good journalist… my feeble eyes can never understand why an Indian WWF player has such strong feet… what does he eat and cook…. I can never realize the strength that a story holds, what aura it has to move the nation… I can never devote my self to those cricketing demi-gods, who lose their worship as soon as they lose a match.. they fall to a bottomless abysmal as soon as they climb the pinnacle of godliness… how can I recognize what an effect it holds on my nation, on people… alas I have no skills whatsoever .
This elegy is then written by an aspiring already dead journalist… at least I can still wonder on the oxymoron
