Back To Bliss: A Journey To Zero by Santosh Jha (pdf e book reader TXT) 📕

In almost all jobs, the bosses would tell their subordinates, “In our business, the deadline is always yesterday”. Mayank always thought, when someone is already made to be guilty of ‘delayed start’, even before he commences, subsequent guilt hardly troubles anyone. It is like humanity being guilty of the ‘original sin’ of Adam and Eve and never being sorry for loads of other subsequent wrongs.

He remembered, once he was interviewing the CEO of an FMCG major and had asked why conformity rather than creativity was the preferred virtue in most established and organized work systems. The CEO had said, “Stupidity and creativity are like twins. But, creativity is pop-stupidity. If markets; the consumers accept it, a stupidity is quickly branded as creativity. But as a CEO, I cannot take a risk as no CEO on the earth can predict which way the markets behave. Genius can rarely be customized, it is usually accidental stupidity.”

The CEO had added on condition of not printing it, “when big time money is at stake, safety is the only virtue for business; of course I save my creativity for times when I am with my wife or in a seminar”.

The lesser geniuses, the larger workforce, however have since ages designed the smart excuses for not being up to the cut. The words like optical illusion, printer’s devil, computer error, server snag, news swap, etc are the excuses that have been designed dexterously for saving a journalist’s skin. Of course, they don’t tell you all about these in their induction programs for trainees. That’s why godfathers are so important in all fields of activities, especially jobs.

Mayank was anxious to lay his hands on the morning newspaper to know the error so that he could decide on the onus and then confidently ring back the Editor. He would not be shy of accepting his fault, if it was his but would never accept an unnecessary interference on his innovative cuts. As he entered the kitchen to make a cup of tea, the mobile phone buzzed again. He made up his mind to face it and also very quickly rehearsed his reply. He picked up the phone.

“Hello… Mayank…. we fucked them today… bloody you rammed their asses real hard this time… congratulations”, the editor blurted out loud on the other side.

Mayank fumbled with his response as the praise from his editor was unexpected. The man on the other side was least bothered about the response as he continued his joyous exclamations over how their front page scoop about the scam in medical entrance test results went exclusive and how their copies were sold like hot cakes in the stands.

The editor was happy not because their newspaper was going to be the talk of the town but because he was told by the circulation department guys that some hawkers refused to lift the copies of the rival newspaper and insisted on increased quota of their newspaper copies. A rare joy for an editor; the sales guys heaping praise on editorial genius is like a solar eclipse…very rare indeed!

“Nice placement, good display… brilliant judgment… you are a real bastard of a journalist … tonight I will cheer the scotch in your name”, the editor exclaimed.

“Thanks sir, thanks … it is indeed a good day for us”, Mayank managed a reply.

“Enjoy you bastard, enjoy your day of glory under the shining Sun, there ain’t many such days in the career of a journalist”, the editor said and signed off.

Mayank murmured something, threw himself on the bed and slept.

The pre-dawn in the city belongs to the sweepers of the municipal corporation and the newspaper hawkers. One clears the dirt and another spreads it. Murders, rape, loot, bungling, mishaps, death, pain, sufferings and all possible negativities are splashed all over the front page and the important page three-four city pages with great linguistic skills. Importantly, all troubles need to be assigned to governance and system, never the public. Readers love to know that whatever wrong happened to them, someone else is to be blamed, not them. Early morning pride sails them through their tough and humbling lives.

The glory for newsmen however, is not in cramming the pages of the newspaper with negative news and writing it in a style that would beat a blockbuster movie screenplay but, it is indeed in doing it exclusively. The joy is not in how good you are but in how bad you made the rivals proved out to be on a given day.

Mayank looked at the bundle of newspapers as he left his bed a few hours later but did not care to read them. He, like most journalists, read them only when an error would be pointed out. He recollected the morning conversation with his editor and shook his head as if he wished to throw away the memories from his head. He however smiled. He smiled because in his ten-year career in the newspapers as a journalist, he could never anticipate right whether he would receive praise or punishment in the morning for what he did late night in the newsroom.

He remembered; the editor was not very convinced of this medical entrance exam result scam story last evening when it was shown to him as he was not confident of the credibility of the reporter. He was sure that the story would fall flat as a front page scoop because it would not be exclusive. He doubted the source would also leak it to other media persons.

Mayank had insisted that he wished to play the story as a front page scoop and had also rewritten the story to make it impactuous. The editor had left the office late evening making clear that the story should ideally be covered as ‘also ran’ story on the lower half of the front page but not as front page scoop. Mayank had taken the challenge and as usual, he took the risk, cross-checked with his sources and ran the story as front page top scoop with a banner display.

He expected the editor’s ire next morning but once again he was proved wrong. The story went exclusive and that made the editor happy. But despite editor’s praise, Mayank was apprehensive as his journalistic intuition warned him of trouble ahead. How the rival newspaper could miss such a big story, he wondered. His apprehensions proved right as the day progressed.

By the time, the reporters gathered in the newsroom for the 12 o’ clock meeting, the editor had received many phone calls which made his morning bliss disappear. A call from the deputy general manager of advertisement had also made him nervous. He sent a message from his chamber to the reporters that he would not take the meeting and the chief reporter should go ahead with it. There also was a one line instruction that no follow ups of today’s scoop will be required.

Mayank did not react when the editor briefed him of the situation at hand and asked him to proceed on leave. As a true journalist, he had the intuitive perception of bad things and vibes. As he had entered the office, the body language of the guard on the ground floor, the reception girl and his own colleagues and the calm in the newsroom had made him realize that bad news was coming his way.

A chaotic news room is a sure sign of a satisfying morning for the readers and peace and order there means a disaster for one or other journalist. As a news editor, he had witnessed the fall out of a peaceful newsroom on some of his colleagues but this time around, not others but he himself looked to be on the firing line.

He made extra efforts to look nonchalant and put up a normal voice as he asked the editor, “I think, you should be honest to me; I can understand, after all I am in this profession and also with you for such long years. Don’t hang me on this leave thing…. simply tell me, am I being sacked or …. ?”

The editor was agitated and interrupted him, “…. look Mayank, I am not in a mood to entertain your crap. I am already running out of patience. Can’t you see where we have landed ourselves! The chief minister of the state has asked the public relation department secretary to stop all government advertisements to us and you know what it means! Our monthly billing is one crore and forty lakhs a month, do you listen, and we are not losing our pocket moneys but the lifeline…! Go and sleep well. Be positive; take this opportunity to relax as leaves are so rare in a journalist’s life. But do not leave the city, the boss is coming.”

He was about to leave when editor said, “You know, when a lightning strikes in the sky, someone on the earth below has to lose his luck. Trust me, only the poor are ruined in rain…you and me live in concrete houses.”

Mayank looked deep into the eyes of his editor and could not get the vibes he was expecting. He could easily see the face of the man in the eyes of the editor who had clearly run out of luck. He had seen many soldiers sacrificed to save the skin of the general but this time, he was the general who was taking the innocent blood and the poor soldier was too young and a favorite with him.

“The reporter is not at fault. He just had a story and I took the decision to run it as front page top scoop, even when you had disapproved of it. So, I should be kicked out not him”, Mayank said sounding determined and assertive.

“Don’t try to be my dad. When I was your age, I too enjoyed being a messiah even while I knew it quite well that none in seven generations of my family was one. Always remember, you are a servant of a baniya (trader) and you waste your talent singing the song of universal brotherhood in front of a butcher. Preserve these sweet sentiments for your girlfriend; she will be impressed and suck it. May be in return of your baby talks, she will give you a yummy fuck like a well-paid whore. Push the door when you move out”, the editor said in low murmuring voice and turning away, pretended to look busy scanning stories of the day on the Newstrack.

The chief reporter outside was waiting for Mayank as he had got his facts ready. The rival newspaper editor had done the trick. He too had this story about the exam result bungling as the source had shared the leak. The rival editor however chose not to publish the story and late night, he phoned the personal secretary of the chief minister informing that they were not going ahead with the story. The editor however lied to the personal secretary saying that the story was exclusive. The rival editor also had it confirmed earlier that Mayank was taking the story as front page lead scoop. Mayank could guess who in his newsroom had leaked the piece of information to the rival editor.

In a rather smart move, the rival newspaper had made the chief minister to believe that there was a political conspiracy behind the scoop to embarrass him and his government ahead of the crucial assembly by-polls and Mayank’s newspaper was playing in the hands of the opposition.

Everything is fair in love and corporate wars. It was nothing unusual. However, unlike other wars, it was difficult to make out who was fighting against whom and whose behalf. The warriors were not lined up against each other as in traditional wars and loyalties were always at premium.

Mayank smiled and remembered his hunch in the morning when he had doubted how the rival could miss such a