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Such A Short But Sweet Journey

From a strong contender in March 1995 for the ‘Editor Who Has Lost the Most Jobs’ category to the 15th Anniversary of <i>Outlook</i>...

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Such A Short But Sweet Journey
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In March 1995, I was the mother of all rolling stones. I had lost editorships of three newspapers in just over three years, and some smart bookies gave odds on how long I would last at Outlook. Napoleon once asked his aides, who were recommending a particular general to lead his troops in a crucial battle, whether (besides being a good general) he was “lucky”. In my case, the consensus generally conceded my ability to conceive and launch print publications, but I was certainly not “lucky”. If anything, I had become a strong contender for the Guinness Book of Records in the ‘Editor Who Has Lost the Most Jobs’ category.

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But, here I am in October 2010, writing for the 15th Anniversary Issue of Outlook. And, wonder of wonders, well-wishers and enemies have stopped asking me when I will quit; now they ask when I will retire! Not yet, my friends.

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Yes Boss With proprietor Rajan Raheja at Outlook’s 5th-year anniversary celebration

The secret of my survival is simple. If I had entered politics I would answer to multiple masters whose whims needed to be placated. Currently, I have only one master, the proprietor Mr Rajan Raheja, aided and abetted now by his bright son, Akshay Raheja. Mr Raheja has been a dream boss. I have, occasionally, put him in major difficulties, for instance when the slimy PMO chief, Brajesh Mishra, raided the Rahejas for reports exposing him and his accomplices. Sharad Pawar took us to court in Mumbai—and that too was an unpleasant experience for the owners (we settled, eventually, both sides standing their ground). In the 15 years I have worked with Mr Raheja, we’ve had one-and-a-half disagreements. Considering what a cantankerous person I am, that piddling figure testifies to our trouble-free relationship.

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Since October 1995, it has been such a short but sweet journey. The Times of India was founded in 1838, The Hindu in 1878. Yet, at the risk of sounding immodest, Outlook in its brief life has added usefully to the plurality and diversity of the Indian media. Starting from my Debonair days (1974), my single professional ambition has been to make serious journalism “popular”, without trivialisation or sensationalism. Doubtless, we have at times been guilty of both sins, but more often than not, Outlook has provided a platform where complex issues have been intelligently demystified and rendered accessible. Being a bona fide pseudo-secularist, this magazine and I have been frequently accused of an anti-Hindutva bias. Whether this charge is true or false is for others to judge. However, I have lost count of the number of times I have specifically invited BJP-inclined writers to take issue with us and our views. And not just on the “letters” page. That does not detract from our stated and unstated position. We are unashamedly a liberal-centre-left publication. If that makes us anti-BJP, so be it.

In the last couple of weeks, I have travelled to almost all the metros interacting with readers and hostile interlocutors. Three, no four, questions are a constant. One, what party do we support? Two, do we manufacture letters? Three, why do we publish Arundhati Roy so often? Four, why do I call my dog Editor?

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All For Free Speech: With Sonia Gandhi and Rajan Raheja at the Outlook Speakout Awards on our 10th anniversary

On our political stance, I have already explained our approach. I’ll add one more unnoticed detail. If you examine our back issues, you will find we have printed more stories against the Congress than the BJP. Those of you who think I am angling for a Rajya Sabha seat or a Padmashri or an ambassadorship, let me reveal that for all my so-called Sonia chamchagiri, there has not been even the whiff of an offer. The grim reaper has been kind to me in this respect. Speaking for myself, I have never discussed the subject even with the most minor Congress minion. For me, there is no better job in India than editing a newspaper or a magazine, the cheap and delicious food in the Parliament canteen notwithstanding.

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No, we do not fabricate letters. There is no need to. Outlook’s mailbox is so consistently full that the editors have problems accommodating all the responses. Letters which praise me in the hope of making it to print, suggesting that I am a mix of Einstein and Gandhi, go straight into the wastepaper basket. I am not devoid of vanity, but I am not gullible either.

Arundhati Roy? Thirty-three pages and all. It is an honour and a privilege to have her byline in the magazine. I don’t agree with every word she writes, but by and large, Outlook and Arundhati are on the same page. Incidentally, I find her bitterest critics are the ones who read her most avidly.

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With Editor and his name we are in tricky territory. Perhaps, due to my humble professional origins, I have been mocking the pomposity and pretensions of editors who not only think they are infallible but believe they set the national agenda. It is a pathetic fantasy. Politicians who flatter us do so to ensure a good press in the publications we edit. All we journalists have are the best seats in the tournament. We are privileged spectators, not players.

I call my dog Editor because he is stubborn, wilful and thinks he knows everything. I use him as a metaphor for the bloated egos of editors. Myself included.

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Finally, and pardon me if this sounds trite, I’d like to pay tribute to the magnificent men and women who read and suffer the magazine I have the kismet to edit. Without you, I would be unemployed!

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