Tales from Shining and Sinking India
Autho: Akash Banerjee
Publisher: Amaryllis, Rs525
Akash Banerjee’s book is a must for aspiring journalists seeking to smell the stories that lie ahead in their careers, says Debraj Mookerjee
There are disciplines and there are perspectives. The question to ask is this: How would you classify journalismIJ Is it a perspective or a disciplineIJ Apropos, what would comprise the ideal syllabus for a media scholarIJ Would she be well-served by learning primarily about font sizes and the art of eliminating ‘widow words’ (when a paragraph ends with a single word that looks odd dangling by itself), besides this and that from history, political science and international relationsIJ Perhaps, but will that make her a great journalistIJ The best of journalists achieve greatness not because of what they know but what they are. Spunk, fearlessness and the dogged determination to ferret out the truth behind a story mark out the merely competent from the intrepid in the business of journalism. Akash Banerjee’s recently published book, Tales from Shining and Sinking India, reveals just that quality of spunk so desirable in a journalist. And that is which makes it the most important un-prescribed text in a journalism student’s academic arsenal.
Akash I have vague personal recollection of. I am sure I judged university debates where he participated and excelled. His bio mentions he having attended St Stephen’s College, but I remember him representing Hindu college. Perhaps he did his MA from Stephen’s. Akash went onto join the world of journalism, excelling as a TV anchor and the big story man. Tales from Shining and Sinking India is a firsthand account of some of his more challenging TV assignments. The book begins with a provocatively titled introduction (The ‘Masturbating’ Media) that concomitantly cribs about, and celebrates the emergent dynamics of the broadcast media, and is best flipped through in a hurry. In any case serious prose is not the author’s strength. The real meat of the book is Akash’s professional (and personal) journeys onto the turf of onsite reporting. He forays into the heart of Maoist insurgency, covers Bihar’s devastating floods of 2008, almost disappears in search of Rajashekhara Reddy’s crashed helicopter in the dense Nallamala forest, faces volleys of bullets coming from the Taj under attack on 26/11, is bitten by big fat mosquitoes while reporting Chandrayan’s successful launch from the ISRO centre at Sriharikota, is busy trying to get close site of the horrific Air India crash site at the Mangalore airport where IX-812 overshot the runway and fell off the table top tarmac, makes an attempt to understand Tibetan nationalism, is stuck in Pakistan while reporting the tumultuous days preceding Gen Pervez Musharraf’s downfall, oversees the left Front’s demise under the vigorous assault of Mamata Banerjee, is present and observing the Anna movement up close and personal, and finally is also a little here and there talking about India’s religious festivals.
The long list is a little too eclectic perhaps, but that’s what a reporter at large does. He follows the news as it breaks. And what makes news is anybody’s guess. Akash uses the structure of his work to give shape to his book. He allows it to meander along the territories covered by him, attempting to highlight what he considers stand out moments in his career. Not all the chapters come out shining though. Some sink without really saying much. The ones on the festivals of India, or the Chandrayan episode, or even the Tibet interlude, are frankly, remarkably unengaging. The ones on his sojourn to the Maoist heartland, 26/11, Rajashekhara Reddy, the floods in Bihar and the Pakistan fiasco however, have strong stories to tell. Akash comes across as heroic and adventurous, intrepid and insistent, following events without concern for anything but the desire to be the first to report the breaking of a big news story. He goes hungry, has swollen feet, braves Maoist threats, has his limbs bruised, braves cheap hotels and travels recklessly on India’s notorious highways to do what he (ostensibly) was born to do.
In the forbidding jungles of Dantewada in Chhattisgarh, he accompanies the Koya Commando Force, who officially do not exist, and are drawn from the local Koya tribe to beat the rebels at their own game. Akash’s admiration for their leader Kichananda, and his analysis of what ails, and needs to be done to stem the Maoist menace, are firsthand and credible. His recap of the events of 26/11 are precise and insightful, including the admission that the Indian media unwittingly helped Pakistani handlers (though by not setting up a far enough periphery, it is the Government that goofed in the first place). All in all, Akash’s book is a must for aspiring journalist seeking to smell the stories that lie ahead in their careers. For others, especially those who devour 9 O’clock news with relish, Tales from Shining and Sinking India is a great opportunity to get behind the story, and understand the mechanics of the breaking news industry.
The reviewer is associate professor, University of Delhi
