The newspaper I read

Which newspaper do you read? A silly question to ask perhaps. For, in the glitz and dazzle of TV news anchored by loudmouths, and fakes and deepfakes - generating more heat and smoke than light and insight - newspapers have no place. To cap it, we have Netflixes, Zees and Jios et al pandering to our baser instincts: sizzling hot stuff of guns and gore for the violent beast within us and some mirch-masala of flesh- and skin-baring to keep our wane loins tickling. (I am no holy cow though, I confess!)  Then the younger lot have hell-raising games to tingle their neurons with and myriad dating apps for flings or to hunt for soul mates. And of late, to beat them all, an AI-birthed sexy avatar custom made to indulge your wild fancies is a few taps of buttons of your device away to chat or flirt with. Therefore to ask about newspapers or a word in print is stupid and even rude.

But being an odd man out in this bewildering chaos - and for sanity’s sake - I read a newspaper which I am an addict to. It provides me my day’s newsfeed wrapped in objectivity, fairness and facts- sans bias, sans fear and with dollops of daring even in these ‘Jai-Shri-Ram’ times. It dares to look the government in the eye, lauds it when it delivers on good governance but doesn’t shy away from tweaking its ears when, blinded by power, it forsakes its oaths and vows and goes berserk.

In the present locust swarm of digital media eating away the printed word with ferocious appetite, newspapers, alas, have become mere Lilliputs gasping for breath. A good many in the vernacular have wilted for obvious reasons: sheer survival. Some being in the clutches of corporates have caved in owing to their own greed, opting to “crawl when they were not even asked to bend”, and love being lapdogs of ‘power.’ In this dismal scenario, only the barest few have kept their chins up against all odds and refused to buckle and tow the official line. The count, if you ask me, is abysmally low: The Indian Express, The Hindu, The Deccan Herald, and of course the intrepid The Telegraph.  And out of these it is the last one that shines the brightest in this small galaxy. A regional daily from our north with a halo of history and excellence and an eloquent witness to our freedom struggle and its aftermath, has, I dare say, lost its old sheen and shine, having turned wan and pale of late.

Out of these four sparkling gems named above, my favourite – it goes without saying – is The Telegraph, published from my favourite city, the one and only, Calcutta. Since its print edition is not available to us - the Les mise’rables Palampurwallas - the digital edition is our only means to read it. It comes free, while most other dailies do not, is easily accessible and very reader-friendly. Be it journalistic excellence, language, quality and boldness of its editorials and opinion pieces, reflections on art and culture, book reviews … or even entering the lion’s very den to beard it - it lacks nothing that one’s heart asks for to begin the day on a stimulating diet. It has among its illustrious columnists, persons like Gopalkrishna Gandhi, Mukul Kesavan and Ramachandra Guha … to name some.

Since I began reading it, I have fallen under its spell. It is now my raison d’etre that gives a head start to every morn which nudges me to wakefulness.

 I salute you The Telegraph, your inspired team, and your good editor R. Rajagopal, above all. Keep it up!

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