Journalistic Troubles – Part 1

Since I have proclaimed myself a journalist – a lost one at that – maybe it is time I got around to writing about my journalistic experiences. Not a lot since I am still new in the field and the actual job of reporting started less than 3 months ago.

One of the biggest problems I face now is explaining that I work for a web portal – “it is a newspaper, only it opens in a computer”. They are not happy with my credentials. If it is a paper they could see. One time, I talked to a vegetable vendor to ask her opinion about Tharoor’s resignation. She asked if this would come on “your website”. Yes. Will she be able to get a copy? Sure, come to my office (right opposite her shop). I published my article that day. Next evening my boss called and asked if I promised a certain lady some print-out? Err yes, could you get a print out of the Tharoor opinion piece?

One thing that happens to me a lot – and I want to know if it happens to other new journos – I am asked a lot of questions – some of it personal and having no relevance to the subject in hand. I start with the questions and they answer thankfully, not with a lot of reluctance. When I am done, they start the questions. So are you basically from Trivandrum? Where in Trivandrum? You studied journalism? From where?

Coupla days back I talked to a fruit vendor about hartal and without any hint, he suddenly asked my age. “You are what, 18?”
“No I am above 20.”
“20 what?”
“Not telling you (I surprise myself here).”
“Oh yea, you shouldn’t ask girls their age, but that is really an old theory and it is pretty cheap.”
“Yea maybe but I don’t have to tell my age to each and everyone I talk to.”
“Well, I suppose that is true.”
Hmm, have I started becoming age-conscious? Who am I kidding? I have ever since I crossed 17!

And then there are the little insults. Not exactly insults but being rebuked in public. I took a snap of a drama I went to, to write a review about it. A security guard came and told me not to do that. Suddenly I feel all eyes are on me instead of being on the play. Another time, I click a picture of a temple I pass. A man comes out of the temple and tells me in no soft terms that one is not supposed to take pictures “of any nada”. Darn.

Well I could go on and on. Maybe I will record it as and when something worth talking about happens. Hey I just realized – I am not funny anymore! I don’t like it.