Behind the News: Voices from Goa's Press

Consciously, though, we shunned sensationalizing and Kaka firmly shot the idea of carrying the day's matka figures. We refrained from gimmicks like carrying dummy advertisements, especially in the Classified columns, barometer to a newspaper's popularity.

Instead, we went for innovative editorial content. [Including, at my instance, a SundayMag column on Sleight of Hand by the Salcete magician, Marco. When Marco didn't show up for a couple of weeks, leading to howls from eager readers of his column, Y.M. Hegde was so furious that I had to fill in with a piece on how Marco had performed the Vanishing Trick and restore YM's trademark smile!]

To further notch up circulation, I almost coerced Madkaikar into breaking the back of monopoly newspaper distributors in South Goa – by selling retail bundles to any willing vendor on an initial sell-or-return basis.

Results were evident. By month 6, we sold around 4,500 copies in and around Margao alone, compared to less than half that number by NT. Circulation problems, however, persisted in North Goa, including delayed deliveries to news stalls in the northern talukas. But then, we had just two vehicles to cover the entire territory. ("Penny wise, Pound foolish," P.R. Menon forever rued, he never carried much of an impression about the managerial abilities of Goan mineowners – all his life, after all, Menon had worked in a establishment owned by the Karnanis, Marwaris to the core!) Even then, overall, WCT's print order would be just about 2,000 copies short of the NT. And at the rate we were going, the gap would fast be closed and surpassed?

My heroes, of course, were Shivram Borkar and Babal Borkar, ace drivers who by day ferried the shift editorial staff to and from quarters in Margao to office in Davorlim . By night, the duo snoozed whatever time available, on heaps of 'raddi' in the press. And zipped their way with newspaper bundles to either end of Goa before the crack of dawn – in terribly overloaded, ramshackle, dieselized Ambassador cars that should have been a delight to Mario Miranda and Alexyz (we used a syndicated pocket cartoon, incidentally, since Mario was with the ToI group in Mumbai and Alexyz hadn't yet surfaced as a cartoonist.) Babal and Shivram, true heroes who virtually were at call, round the clock, round the year. [They of course made out-of-pocket money, ferrying passengers on the return. When this reached Papa's ears, he tailed one of the drivers one fine morning. When the unsuspecting fellow stopped to take in passengers, Papa is reported to have pulled alongside and advised the driver, "Bhara, bhara, taxi ti!" The man was often magnanimous. The driver did not lose his job.]

By the first year of publication, despite impressive circulation figures, there were no signs of advertising revenue picking up to reach the financial break-even point. To the sheer dismay of our well-knit editorial team, there were also no signs of implementation of the pan-Konkan Plan. The management, instead, began fighting shy to inject fresh investment in the enterprise. Corners started getting cut. Virgin plates came to used only for jacket pages, inside pages were processed on recycled plates. Papa's dream began to show signs of fatigue?

By the third month into the second year of publication, amid this uncertain scenario, arrived Nicholas ("Nicky") Rebello, a lino-typesetter and leader of the NT worker's union. I will not hedge a bet if Nicky was 'inspired' by his employers, but having been in touch with him much after his retirement from NT at his home in Betim, I can vouchsafe Nicky didn't travel to Davorlim by any 'political' inspiration. My best guess is that some restive workers of the WCT press, aware of wages being paid at NT, must have approached and invited Nicky to Davorlim. The workers of WCT press got unionized and Nicky soon served a Charter of Demands. The management stood its ground, often unreasonably in the opinion of the editorial team – which of course had no locus standi in the imbroglio. As the strike showed signs of protraction, P.R. Menon, known for leftist leanings from his fiery days at the FPJ, tried to intervene with the management. To no avail.

(P.R. Menon was forever of the conviction that managerial skills of Goan mine-owners were limited to blasting, transportation and shipping – and after the importer's cheque arrived, to distributing the proceeds to those who had blasted, transported and shipped. And, of course, to profits!) Papa, strangely, sometimes used queer management methods. There was this Chief Accountant, hired for the PTI group, on a then princely salary of Rs.4,000 a month. To get a feedback on the Chief Accountant, Papa assigned a peon drawing no more than Rs.250 a month. After office hours, the peon would report to Papa on the activities of the C.A. from which, inferences on the Chief Accountant were drawn!

But a man of immense experience and intuition he was. From the streets of native Assolna in Salcete, where as a child he hawked textiles, a wooden yard measure slung across his shoulder and a coolie with a headload of wares in tow, Papa must have surely post-graduated from the University of Experience. On occasions when I was seated in his chamber, his P.A., Sambari would buzz to announce a visitor. In a flash Papa knew why the man had come, what he would say, and had the replies even before the visitor entered! I personally saw flaming creditors leave his chamber smiling, even though not a paisa had yielded! He had that rare ability to disarm even the most irate visitor. But when it came to the WCT strike, I have always held the belief that a man of such calibre who could have easily placated the agitated workers and even broken their Union, was somehow carried away with the opinion of one trusted man, who was obviously misleading him – and since I've named names, I will exclude Madkaikar and Kurwar.]

With no end to the strike in sight, Bailur, Hegde, Kaka and me next met and virtually pleaded with Papa to concede some sops to the striking workmen and get the publication going. I think the establishment (may not have been Papa) thereafter regarded as being pro-Union!

The editorial team, bulk of which was from outstation, met frequently during those bekaar days and finally, the painful decision emerged that we tell the management to either settle the dispute with the Union or we quit en masse. The management was unmoved. We quit, but Papa's dispenser of bad advice insisted on serving 'dismissal' letters!

And thus a lofty dream to publish from Goa, the land of Banna Halli, an English daily serving the entire of Lord Parashuram's Konkan on the West Coast of India, went phut. A modern press and process, an excellent editorial team – path-breaking infrastructure in Goa's history of newspaper production – lay in waste.

The venerable Bailur returned to retirement, as did P.R. Menon. Y.M. Hegde joined Mumbai's Shipping Times as Editor. The Chief Subs and Subs returned to their original publications or to new jobs. A Goan Sub, Vincent Rangel, from Tivim-Bardez, went into business, as the Mumbai-end partner of Manvin Couriers. I joined the FPJ Group (Free Press Journal, its tabloid-eveninger Bulletin and fortnightly, Onlooker) as Goa Correspondent; moved in like capacity to IE when FPJ's Chief Editor, S. Krishnamurty joined IE's Mumbai edition as Resident Editor; played a role in J.D. Fernandes' decision to start an English avatar of the near defunct Portuguese O Heraldo (including the hiring of its first editor) – and almost joined, but didn't quite – as that newspaper's Chief Reporter, for reasons that Rajan Narayan should know. And finally got into business. Without regrets.

Chapter 4: Novem Goem: The Roof Caves In

Paul J Fernandes

Paul Fernandes, known to journalists in the state for his amiable nature, as also his ability and inclination to do off-beat and far-from-the-beaten-track stories, has published a vast amount on issues that concern rural Goa, archaeology and the average resident of Goa. He was recently winner of a Centre for Science and Environment (Delhi) fellowship to study water issues in Goa.

Konkani as the official language of Goa was then still a distant dream. And granting of statehood to the Union Territory, a remote possibility. A few Konkani protagonists casually discussing the issue felt that a medium was sorely needed to project the aspirations of true Goans. And only a "people's newspaper" free from the shackles of the capitalist could achieve that, they thought.

A few years earlier, Uzvadd, reincarnated as Novo Uzvadd and Novo Prakash, had become defunct after its editor Evagrio Jorge learnt a few bitter truths. The Herald – in its new English-language avatar as also in the much-touted role of a champion of Konkani – was yet to appear on the horizon.

It was then in 1980 on a dark night … in Panjim … that the idea of launching a Konkani daily was born. And talk about the requirement of funds for the mammoth project threw up a novel idea. The way out was a 'pad-iatra ' (or, long march across Goa on foot) through the villages of the then union territory. At a follow-up meeting, the individuals involved formed a Trust – called the Novem Goem Pratishthan. They crowned the then young seminary-student turned trade union leader Christopher Fonseca, who floated the idea of a pad-iatra, as its general secretary.

Trustees were Sara Machado, Advocate Pandurang Mulgaonkar, Gurunath Kelekar, Dr F M Rebello, Advocate Antonio Lobo, and Gustav Clovis Costa. Mathany Saldanha and Fr Braz Faleiro played a stellar role in getting the idea through.

And so began an eventful, and an unforgettable, 70-day trudge through the nooks and corners of Goa. There were some 70-odd volunteers, which included a few women and two vivacious sisters, Tina and Colete Xavier, students at that time.

The pad-iatra started on October 26, 1980. Fonseca recalls that wherever they went, they received a good response. Money, small and big sums, was contributed. There were occasions too when – language being a sensitive issue in Goa – they were insulted. But they had decided not to retaliate in any way. A person spat on a young pad-iatri, Srikant Chodankar, when he knocked at his door for his contribution for the new paper. But he bravely said 'thank you' and stepped out with the others.

Two of the girls accompanying him burst into tears, as participants from that venture recall.

The eventful 'pad-iatra' ended on December 31, New Year's eve. By then, the volunteers had managed to collect around Rs 250,000, a tidy sum considering that this was just in the start of the 'eighties, when the rupee still had more value than now.

Needless to say, it took about six months to create the requisite infrastructure to launch the daily. Finding premises, purchasing machinery and recruiting the staff. When the Novem Goem first hit the stands in 1980, many naturally had great expectations that it would serve as a people's paper. Several dailies in the past had not survived for long, given the huge requirement of funds.

Indeed, Novem Goem could not scale great heights; but it had many 'lows' during its span. The coverage could not be extensive, nay it was even below average. This is perhaps understandably because the publication could not engage a big team of reporters or set up a network of reporters in all corners of Goa. But it carried to work with few expectations and fewer rewards.

During the agitation, the tabloid served to keep the mass of Konkani lovers, specially in its heartland of Salcete, if it can be called that, posted of various developments. The paper served to forge a relationship and bridge the gap between the old Roman Konkani writers and those who had just started writing in the Devnagri script. Well-known poets, writers, such as Uday Bhembre, Dr Bhikaji Ganekar, Manoharrari Sardesai were among those who often contributed their writings to the paper.

The paper also sought to raise the standard of Konkani among its readers by often explaining difficult words, as compared to the poor quality of writing in most Roman script periodicals. I myself recall contributing to a column Aichim Don Utram (Today's Two Words), which gave the readers two new words to learn daily, with meanings in English and also illustrated by examples.

'Konkni uloi, Konkni boroi, Konknintlean sorkar choloi' (Speak Konkani, Write Konkani, Administer The State In Konkani), the slogan coined by one of the trustees, Gurunath Kelekar, gained currency and set the mood among Konkani lovers.

While the paper finally closed down, coincidentally, it did so after Konkani was included in the Eight Schedule of the Constitution of India and Goa was granted statehood – two of the avowed objectives for which the Trust had launched the paper. Many may be skeptical about the contribution of this small paper to these two great and important causes. But having worked in this paper for just over three years as a sub-editor, I recall that Dr Rebello, as its editor, contributed significantly to the chorus for the twin demand.

DURING THE ENTIRE existence of the paper, its management had to face several struggles and even upheavals among the trustees.

Its problems started from the day the presses were set up. While an offset machine could have been bought, a Glockner machine owned by one of the Trustees was sold to the Trust. With that, it was only possible to print a tabloid paper. The machinery subsequently gave several problems. How a newspaper cannot survive without infusion of frequent doses of capital was best exemplified here. Advertising revenue was very low, though there were phases when its staff pooled their efforts to raise funds by canvassing for advertisements through their own initiative. There were managerial problems, too. With lack of experience in running a paper, and negligence by some of the Trustees at certain stages, the roof finally had to cave in.

A former trustee alleges that the quantum of advertisements released by the government to the paper was meagre, and the staff even led a morcha to the Secretariat, alleging shabby treatment. This continued even after Konkani was made the official language of the state.

If the paper survived for around a decade, it could be termed as a miracle of sorts. There were around 7,000 readers, who religiously read the daily. However, the poor coverage towards the end saw its readership go down sharply. The emergence of a slickly printed and produced Konkani-monthly Gulab also hastened its death.

However, there was no dearth of sympathisers. Gulf Goans contributed generously, and quite often, to keep it afloat. But tiatrists were largely not among them as they showed apathy towards it vis-a-vis advertisements of their shows. They preferred an English-language daily and very few advertised in Novem Goem, if at all rarely.

The real heroes and the sufferers in the bargain were the Novem Goem workers, who toiled during its entire 10-year existence. Lack of revenue meant that they often received their salaries late. On the 10th of any month, it was not unusual for the management to announce they would give some advance on the salary. For one thing, the salary was being delayed; over and above, to be told that they would get it in installments was the ultimate affront. More so when these were people with families to feed. But this went on month after month, specially during the last few years.

They were entitled to a scale of salaries under Palekar Wage Award – the Central Government-notified standards then in force for minimum wages to be paid to journalists – but they accepted graciously whatever they were offered. This was, naturally, much below the Wage Board recommendations.

And the employees, having few options, hung on with commendable courage, though there was no hope of a turn around. Their toil and sacrifices were really something to think about. After the paper closed, they should have received their dues from what came in as the proceeds from the sale of machinery and the balance of a raffle draw, which had been floated to raise funds for the paper.

But they are yet to be given their due.

The paper finally went to bed for the last time some time in June 1988. And a novel experiment to offer a people's paper to the masses made a quiet and sad exit….

Chapter 5: The Herald of A New Ethos

R.K. Nair

R.K. Nair sees himself as a battle-scarred veteran too (adding, "though close friends in Goa may describe me as bottle-scarred"). He has 'seen action' in Kuwait and Iraq after his departure from Goa. Back in India after the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait, he worked for the Indian Express. He then went to Oman, returning again to take up an assignment with the Hindu, where he currently works.

So the Rajan era has finally come to an end at the Herald . Sad though it may seem in human terms, it is unlikely to surprise anyone who has at least a nodding acquaintance with his brand of journalism – especially his strident and sensational approach to contentious issues, such as the language agitation of the 'eighties.

By the time I arrived in Goa, the Herald (formerly O Heraldo ) had celebrated the third anniversary of its re-incarnation as an Englishman – but it was not yet out of the birth pangs. It often looked like a one-man show. The six-to-eight page broad-sheet was Rajan Narayan's play-field, and he played with gusto – solo at times, fast and loose frequently. His output was phenomenal. He wrote the lead story, the front-page anchor, the edit almost everyday, six days a week, for several years. Besides, there also was the long-winded 'Stray Thoughts', on Sundays.

Life at The Navhind Times was sedentary by comparison.

In keeping with the image of Goa being a land of laid-back lotus eaters, the NT staffers were under no pressure to perform. Being the dominant daily, news came naturally to the NT. In those days, it operated out of a small rented building, adjoining a bar and restaurant, on the outskirts of Panjim as the new building near the Panjim market was under construction. The bar and the building belonged to the then Mayor of Panjim, an affable man whose employees entertained the NT staffers on credit. The editorial staff got an off-day after two days of work – that's 10 offs a month, which was a luxury that journalists in other papers could not dream of.

The first thing that struck one about the English-language Press in Goa in those days was its utter lack of respect for the readers' intelligence. I'm sorry if this view offends anyone, but the small-town mentality, the self-serious posturing and the patronising editorialisation of news reports were all too obvious in both the NT and Herald.

But there ended the similarity. In other respects, the two papers were a study in contrast. Herald was technologically superior. Having introduced computers ahead of the NT, its printing was neater but the paper was replete with errors – typographical as well as factual. The NT too had its share of typos. But it made few factual errors, because, as critics would say, it seldom reported facts!

The NT used vintage Lino machines for composing and its antiquated printing machine broke down quite often. The morning paper hit the news-stands well after 10 am on such occasions. The printing was awful – full of black patches, missing letters and blank spaces that challenged the imagination of the reader. Still it retained its readership, mainly because it was perceived as the more credible of the two.

Rajan Narayan failed to rise to the occasion and offer a credible alternative. Herald behaved like a spoilt brat throwing tantrums. It lacked a sense of proportion. Too often, it played to the gallery, fanned sectarian passions and threw norms to the wind. With its rabble-rousing shrillness, Herald managed to gain a foothold among a section of the Goan population, especially in South Goa where the NT was perennially late to arrive. But Herald was not taken seriously even by its ardent supporters. Journalist Devika Sequeira once summed up the situation neatly: Herald was laughable and the NT evoked tears!

All that changed with the arrival of the Gomantak Times . The NT Chief Reporter Pramod Khandeparker quit to join the GT. The NT was jolted out of its complacency – it was facing a challenge it had never faced before. Work on the new building was speeded up, and the relocation carried out in a hurry. Computers were installed and a new printing machine was ready.

But all that was not enough to ward off a threat from the rivals. Its content had to improve. Acting Editor M.M. Mudaliar was in a bad mood. His calm and composed disposition gave way to a brittle temper. He yelled at the management people, and threatened to have the editorial staff sacked.

One day, I diffidently approached him with a piece of writing and asked for permission to launch a column in the Sunday supplement. He was reluctant. I was new and untested. And I was not even a regular – I was on voucher payment. But he decided to give it a try and carried the piece on the front page of the Sunday Magazine. It was titled 'A peep into Goan psyche'. The column was called 'Small Talk' and it appeared under the pseudonym of R.K. Yen. The response to the first piece was incredibly good. Mudaliar readily published the second one and, when the third piece appeared, I got the appointment order.

By then Mudaliar had been confirmed as Editor and the paper was ready to face the world with new vigour. The editorial offs were curtailed to once a week. The printing improved and new features and columns were gradually introduced. The NT had arrived. The threat from GT looked feeble now. They had good journalists and better technology, but had forgotten to hire good proof-readers. The paper was full of typos, even in headlines.

The NT was relieved – at least temporarily.

The arrival of GT had a big impact on the Herald too. Rajan Narayan began to behave like one possessed. He blamed Chief Minister Pratapsing Rane and the NT for all the ills of the world. His frustration was beginning to show. He railed against the NT and Rane at the drop of a hat. Once, two people were killed in police-firing in Vasco following a group clash. It was the lead in the next day's NT, but the Herald completely missed the news.

A reader's letter was published in Herald a few days later: "Where was your reporter when the firing took place in Vasco? Had he gone to Baina for a quickie?" The Editor's reply: "We don't enjoy the patronage of Chief Minister Pratapsing Raoji Rane. So we missed the news." (As if Rane had called in the NT and given out the news!)

Rajan Narayan is essentially a rhetorician. He has a way with words and can argue his case convincingly. But his writings carried little conviction, which was the major reason for Herald's credibility crisis in those days. But the fact that he changed the media scene there cannot be disputed. In my view, the fundamental error he made was to plunge into the middle of things, rather than remaining a level-headed observer that a good journalist is supposed to be. He made an over-zealous effort to ingratiate himself with a section of the Goan society and failed miserably. The fact that even today his Goan credentials are questioned bears this out.

As everything has two sides, the Herald experiment (if one could call it that) too had its pros and cons. The single most significant achievement of Herald, in my opinion, was to raise a breed of bright young journalists who cut their teeth in journalism there. Most of them left disillusioned and bitter with the paper and its Editor, but they have done reasonably well elsewhere. But for Herald, they would not have come to this field.

And Herald did manage to provide some relief (comic relief, according to critics) from the tedious fare offered by the NT. It was sharp and pungent – too pungent for many. Almost every report packed a sting in its tail. Some of the fare dished out in the guise of investigative journalism was just gossip laced with outrageous bias. But all this lighted the scene up and served as a reminder to the NT to wake up and take notice.

Rajan Narayan never hesitated to name his rivals, especially the NT, while making disparaging remarks. The NT, on the other hand, took a diametrically opposite stance: it skirted controversies altogether. Its unwritten policy was never to report or comment on anything controversial, let alone naming names!

But that had to change to keep pace with the changing times. I lampooned Rajan Narayan in my columns occasionally, which Mudaliar permitted reluctantly. It must be said to Rajan Narayan's credit that he not only took my pot-shots in good humour, but, according to Herald sources, also stopped a couple of juniors who wanted to hit back at me.