[Reader-list] His shoulders and Dodee

[rahul pandita]

The clouds of war loomed large as Editors and CEOs
fought over the control of the TV channel. It
resembled the mythological battle between the Gods and
the Demons though here it was impossible to
differentiate between the two. The hemlock that rose
from this ‘manthan’ went down the throats of few
hapless reporters. 

To safeguard their interests, a reporter was forced to
be a part of one camp or the other. But it was like
playing the game of snake and ladder. Today one camp
was powerful and the next day the leader of that camp
would find himself sidelined.  

Amidst all this hullabaloo, Sanjeev Tiwari joined the
organization as the Channel CEO. He had been a senior
Manager with the Indian Press Newspaper. Sources
confided that Lala Ji had brought him in as he wanted
to permanently cure the channel ailments. Tiwari had
experience in handling the newspaper union. Sources
added in hushed tone that he had been roped in to
handle the channel affairs with an iron fist. 

On the first day, Sanjeev Tiwari called up a meeting
of reporters. As they sat around a round table, Tiwari
began his address which almost felt like a hiss. He
said that whatever has happened so far has happened.
Now in future things would move as he wishes. While he
said this, he began to shrug his shoulders and
something appeared on his lips which the reporters
thought was a smile. Thinking that he had eased down,
they returned his gesture with deep smiles. Some of
them even grinned. Later on they realized that when
Tiwari shrugged his shoulders, he was in his
serious-most mood. But it was too late by then. They
would have to pay the price. Tiwari issued a summon
that from that day onwards, each reporter would
compulsorily file two stories per day. 

A deadening silence prevailed among reporters. Only
after eroding their shoe soles would they get enough
sound bytes for one story. From where would they
procure a second story?  

It was only because of angel investors, who put in
their money in dotcoms, that jobs of many reporters
were saved. The poor reporters would come back to
office after completing one story from the field and
then sit in the canteen of Hansaram to eat his lousy
food. Hansaram belonged to Lala Ji’s village only and
his food contained a liberal quantity of cockroaches.
Whenever someone complained to him, he would fill air
in his chest and reply: Koi baat nahi, mein Lala Ji se
baat kar loonga. (No problem, I will speak to Lala
Ji). 

After their lunch, almost every reporter would open up
a new site on the computer and shoot it with a camera.
It would ultimately lead to as many as half-a-dozen
stories in the Prime-time bulletin on new websites
being launched. A website which contains information
about all Indian spices. A new site which gives you
tips on car repair. A site on which you can book hotel
rooms in many tourist spots. 

Then one day, there was an incident of fire in the
Bharatpur ordinance factory. The explosives and other
ammunition kept in the factory began raining on the
neighbouring villages. Many people died and houses of
many got destroyed in the process. Ashok Stinger was
sent to cover the incident. 

Two days later, he found Ashok Stinger in an editing
bay. There were a couple of other reporters also there
and all of them were laughing over some matter. He
went inside and found them watching the footage from
Bharatpur. Why are you laughing, he asked. Rewind the
footage and let him also have fun, Ashok Stinger told
the VT editor. He saw Ashok asking the name of an old
man on the camera. The old man was crying as his house
had been blown off by a missile. He could not say his
name properly, probably because of emotional distress.


Mera naam Dodee hai. (My name is Dodee)
Kya naam hai? (What is your name?) 
Dodee, Sahab (Dodee, Sir)

It became evident that the reporter was enjoying this
now, the way Dodee uttered his name. 

Eik baar phir se batao (Say it again)
Dodee, Sahab, Dodee (Dodee, Sir, Dodee) 

Kya naam bataya (What is your name, say again?)

He said his name again, his cheeks stained with tears.

The gang laughed again. Ashok Stinger was laughing
while he held his belly. He silently came out. 

Outside, he lit a cigarette at Gupta Ji’s shop. Their
laughter still echoed in his ears. He could not bear
it. He felt a sudden nausea engulfing him. He went in
a corner and vomited. 


 


Rahul Pandita 
  www.sanitysucks.blogspot.com
  Mobile: 9818088664



	
	
		
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