My friend and former colleague Suresh Baliga, the veteran journalist, passed away last week. I don’t know where it happened. Or how. I learned of his death here. On Facebook. I believe he was ailing for a while. And probably became the casualty of some lifestyle-related disease. Not old age. Like Mobin Pandit before him. Another old school journalist and a cherished friend. That’s them in this black-and-white picture of the 1980s with me. Baliga, mustachioed and scowling darkly. Mobin, as bald as it is fashionable to be these days.
The picture was taken in the newsroom of The Afternoon Despatch & Courier. Baliga and I were Chief Sub-Editors on the News Desk; Mobin was a Special Correspondent, he covered politics, crime, and the courts. I was in charge of the paper during the day. Baliga did the night (graveyard) shift. Mobin had no timing. He reported working when he had a story. Which he filed with a sense of urgency on a battered Fawcit typewriter. Banging the keys hard. A cigarette in his mouth.
Computers hadn’t arrived in journalism then. So journos like Mobin had to write on ancient typewriters. Editors like Baliga and me corrected their copy with blue pencils. Communication with the outside world was done on a rotary dial telephone. The newsroom was hot and stuffy. It had no air-conditioning. And it stank of stale food, honest sweat, cigarette smoke, and cutting tea. Journalists learned to eat on the job and most meals were had at their desks. Especially on Budget and Election days.
One Diwali, somebody gave Baliga a bottle of Scotch. He opened it in the office. For days after that, the night shift worked in high spirits. Baliga had as great a capacity to hold his drink as he had for doing long hours of hard work. Mobin too. Saturday nights were Press Club nights. Baliga and I would be editing a Sunday morning paper. Mantralaya, the courts, and the police press room were shut, so Mobin would be helping us in the office. He was as first-class an editor as Baliga was a reporter. And after we put the paper to bed, we would go to the Press Club and drink until it was time to take the first train home.
In the late 1980s, they left to start a paper of their own. Amitabh Bachchan launched it at the Taj. But the paper was competing against Mid-Day, the Bulletin of the Free Press Group, Evening News of the Times of India, and us. All it had in its favor was the enterprise of Messrs. Baliga & Mobin. It folded up soon. We rarely met after that. Though we stayed in touch. That’s how it is with old journalists. And I learned of their illnesses after their deaths. Sadly, I am now losing more old friends than I am making new ones. And we’re none of us old…
About Mark Manuel
The above thoughts/content has been proudly copied from the wall of Sir Mark Manuel. Being interviewing almost every role model of this country and going stronger each day. Mark Manuel is a respected Mumbai editor, writer, and columnist.
With over three decades of journalism in leading publications. This includes the Free Press Journal, Times, Dainik Bhaskar, Mid-Day, and Afternoon. He is famous for his brilliant pen interviews. He himself is a TEDx speaker.
Further
His interviews have been featured in several leading media houses. They include the Hindustan Times, Huffington Post, BBC, and Network 18. Almost every famous person has been interviewed by him in the country from Mother Teresa to Muhammad Ali. His first book is just out. It’s titled Moryaa Re! It is a crime thriller that is perhaps the country’s first police procedural. He began his career covering crime. And in a tribute to his experience and knowledge of this beat.
Several distinguished officers of the Mumbai Police and its Crime Branch collaborated with him to make this book possible. Amitabh Bachchan wrote the forward in a statement of friendship for Mark Manuel and admiration for his work.
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