Why’re you honking, dude?

I dislike loud sounds, except for those rare occasions when I spend time with friends at a pub. That’s fine because I know what I am getting into…there will be loud music, girls and boys dancing and shouting, middle aged men and women pretending that age never caught up with them etc. The point is that I chose to be there, where loud music is loud and I can walk out anytime I feel like.

But it’s not like that always. There are times when I don’t want loud sounds around me. But unfortunately I live in a country where we are all bombarded with all kinds of sounds always, everywhere. We are a people who don’t consider sound as pollution. Any city or town you go, you find loudspeakers blaring out unpopular music (according to my taste) from a temple/church, or big speakers at someone’s wedding or political meetings where some person waxes eloquent about his the party.

I hate them all. I hate from my very guts those guys who honk for no apparent reason while driving. Every city in our country is infested with these senseless idiots! At least in this one trait our country is united.

I’m sick to death of these people. I absolutely despise them. I cannot come up with a good word for the feeling I have… I curse them; sometimes abuse them, using the foulest cuss words in all the languages I know. BTW, I know cuss words in languages in which I cannot converse! And still I am left seething with anger.

Anyway … I am sure a lot of you will share my feeling. But there is precious little we can do to bring a stop to it. I, in my own way, will continue fighting this menace. I would suggest you do that too.

I am yet to find out why people use their horn so much. When the signal turns from red to green, the dude behind you responds with a honk, even before he probably shifts his gear or starts his engine (in case he switched it off). Why? I don't understand. Hello! I am not sleeping! And I am not blind! I know that I have to move and I will even if you don't honk, you dumbass!

Well, if everyone else is moving and I don’t, honking away to glory doesn’t help, it simply means there is something wrong with my car, and it won’t start. I don’t know what the guy behind me thinks…am I getting some sort of pleasure by not moving?

Every other city in the country observes a ‘no honking’ day (wonder if there is a ‘happy no honking day’ card!). Film stars, musicians, politicians, anybody who is somebody take part in campaign against the menace. But people’s love for their horn hasn’t come down one bit. They love their horn…they are ‘horn’y people!

If you ask me which city is the worst, I really can’t pick one. The competition is so stiff. I can tell you one thing. Kochi is bad, so is Hyderabad (For the last one month I am in Kochi after spending about eight months in Hyderabad). Kochi is a city which is described a quaint and serene and green, and what not.
It takes roughly an hour’s bus ride from my home to my office. So on a working day, I spend two hours suffering a high-octane cacophony in different tones, apart from the dust and the heat.

If I had my way I would fit a ring with sharp nails inside it to every driver’s b***s. And each time he presses on his horn, it would give a nice squeeze. How about that?

Life at Hans-I

Hyderabad was never in my scheme of things, but last December I landed in the twin cities to visit a friend. The visit stretched from days to weeks as I was in no rush to return to Chennai--I was freelancing for a few websites and I could work from anywhere. I don't know how it happened, but I landed a job in Hyderabad. As Chief Copy Editor of the newspaper The Hans India

They say once a journalist, always a journalist. I had moved from The Times Of India to a tech company in Pune, as a technical editor. And somewhere in my mind I had a craving to get back to mainstream media. So I didn't think twice when The Hans India came my way.

Everything I heard about the newspaper sounded like music to my ears. I was told that the managing director was a serious journo and a good guy with a lot of principles, ethics etc. The editor was one of the big names in the industry. And since it was newly-launched, there were challenges…to create a name, and a niche for the newspaper, to fight the already-established ones, and to bring out a just and fair newspaper in the city. I love challenges. So to me, it was everything I could have wished for.

Now, before I write a word further, let me make it very clear that certain things I'm going to say in the next few posts about my life at The Hans India are purely my opinions and views. It may not necessarily be the truth (as someone else sees it).

So there I was, a few days later, talking to the MD in his room. The meeting was short. Mr Murthy, came across as a person who knew what he wanted. “We are a pro-people, democratic newspaper. We don’t believe in sensationalizing things. We believe in bringing out news as it is,” he made things clear. Perfect!

I then met Mr PNV Nair, the editor. I’d heard a lot about Mr Nair. He is one of the greats in Indian journalism—a man who keeps a low profile, but is capable of turning around the fortunes of a newspaper. Nair told me how they worked, what they aspired for etc. I was asked how soon I could join. A few days, I said. I just couldn't wait.

A few days later, I joined. Nair introduced me to a gentleman who walked into his room...Shrikant Shenoy, the News Editor. Shenoy took me to his cabin. As we got into the typical initial chit-chat, Nair walked in. “So, where do you want him? You want to put him there?” Nair asked Shenoy, pointing upwards. Shrikant nodded yes. Where was ‘there’, I wondered. "Alright," said Nair as he strode out of the room, leaving Shrikant and me to continue our talk. A little later I realized that ‘there’ meant Hyderabad Hans, the daily city pullout, which was operating from the fifth floor (the main editorial desk was on third). So they wanted me with the supplement. I was cool with that.
Murthy, Nair and Shrikanth, all of them told me that the pullout needs a makeover--a better design and better stories, more light features etc. And that's what they expected of me. After looking closely at the supplement for the previous week or so, I too agreed...the pullout needed some serious changes.

The person heading the pullout will move to the bureau in a few days, Shrikant said. He suggested that I stick around and see how things worked. Sounded good to me…I too felt that hanging around and watching would give me better ideas and I would be able to figure out what needs change and how to go about it.

Next day onwards I was in office early. I sat next to RK, the man who was in-charge, watching the proceedings. The first thing I noticed was that there was no story list!. Even as RK walked into office, sometime in the afternoon, he had no clue about what was going to happen that day. Reporters filed whatever story they could manage. The first thing to be changed, I thought.

Stories reporters trickled in as the clocked ticked on. As and when the stories came, it was edited and just slapped on to the page! Second change, I thought. The designer just put it on the page with whatever visual he could manage. Four pages were done, of which half a page was movie listings etc. And that was it! I was zapped! In my 18 years of journalism, this is the first time I am seeing a newspaper work like this. I started to believe in miracles.

The few days flew by. RK moved to the news bureau. Officially I was to take charge. As I was driving to office that day, one thing kept playing on my mind--I was not introduced to the team. That is what is done in professionally run organisation, isn't it? At least, that's what I have seen.

Never mind, I said to myself, deciding not to let  such things hamper my mood. I walked into the Hyderabad Hans office. It's a hall where tables are arranged in a row. Vasu, the news coordinator, had taken RK’s chair. I should have been sitting there, primarily because it was next to the designer's seat and I could see what he was doing. Not that it was an issue. Any seat was good enough. It was not the seat that mattered, it was the work I did. At least, I thought so.