Guns, murder, crime have always fascinated me. Rather morbid but yes, they have. I have loved reading about special reports on the 'underworld', the dons' life, murder conspiracies and some such. My favourite movies have been flicks like The Usual Suspects, Reservoir Dogs, Scarface, of course, The Godfather and blah.
And inevitably has remained my fascination for crime reporters! Why, in my journey to become a 'journalist', did I not take the turn to the crime beat, beats me. Seriously! The high point in my career as a journalist writing on finance and later, advertising and media? Covering (Ok! Let us be a bit honest here, 'being there') (in the thick of things of) the 2008 Mumbai Terror Attacks (I did file a couple of stories from Ground Zero, ok?).
Looking around there were my seniors in college writing for the broadsheets and the tabloids covering the crime beat. Looking around there were my classmates cancelling Friday night plans because they had to rush to a crime scene. Looking around there were 'journalists' who were wearing out their soles on the dirty streets. Looking around there were these two men -- Hussain Zaidi and J Dey. And only one remains today!
J Dey, and I confess I did not know it was 'Jyotirmoy Dey' for a long time, was shot dead on Saturday afternoon in a busy neighbourhood in Mumbai. Insensitively, I will say, a just death! If I were to know that Dey had succumbed to a kidney failure in some local hospital, somewhere I would think that it wasn't the end he deserved. I mean seriously, you could get all poetic here and probably write a tragic ballad on guns, goons and J Dey's art.
Dey wrote the best movies I read on print!
For example, Sorry Apoorva Lakhia, your pathetic excuse for a film called 'Shootout At Lokhandwala' just told me that Vivek Oberoi is a joker. J Dey gave me the real Dilip Buwa and Maya Dolas with his stories.
But this isn't a tribute to Dey. I am tempted to show my respect for Zaidi too here but in this country of mine, it is the dead man who is the hero. For how long? Days? Maybe months.
No, this isn't about a tribute to a much respected crime reporter. This isn't about condemning the murder. This isn't about being a part of the fraternity and being one in outrage.
This is about questioning, the fundamental job of a journalist as we were told in media schools. While you question the government, the law; I question you! And dare to suggest that maybe your question is wrong. I beg of you to stop the circus. Maybe even tell you that as a journalist, my job might not be to question the administration and find faults every time.
This is about my absolute hatred for segregation. You protest and demand a law to protect journalists? Why? Why not a law to protect the common man? You demand for answers and for the authority to grab the miscreants by their collar within days? Did you ask for similar results when the old lady in your neighbourhood had her throat slit by a couple of rogues who wanted her money? Your patience is of epic nature then.
This is about my absolute hatred for screaming but not voicing out. What do your candlelight vigils translate into? Post the terror attacks, there was one. Post the terror attacks, there were questions once again thrown at the administration. Post the terror attacks, the turnout for the election thereafter was worse than dismal.
Sadly, your questions each time are just rhetorical!
Quit waving the journalism flag when you don't see yourself bringing a change. Quit waving the journalism flag when you don't see yourself being the common man first. It is a murder investigation. It has been only 3 days. It takes time, right? So what if a journalist was killed? Condemn the fact that a man was killed in broad daylight.
Protest the J Dey murder today and go get your beer later tonight. Return to work the next morning and demand answers to your questions, make a noise. Somewhere you want the administration to be ineffective and callous because that would give you another story for the day. Somewhere you want your leaders to fail to fire your "revolution". Somewhere I don't want to be a part of your family anymore.
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All things question, Biprorshee questions things
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