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Getting into the field

Felix Uncle, as I called him, introduced me to the news editor of Indian Express in Mumbai and I was given a chance to work in the sports department under CSA Swami . The news editor, S Krishnamoorty, popularly known as SKM, who regarded by many as more powerful then the editor because of his close relationship with Ramnath Goenka, The Indian Express proprietor.

As a freedom fighter who served in jail for his anti-Portuguese activities, Rodrigues was well-connected in Goa. After my graduation, he gave me an introductory letter to Lamberto Mascarenhas, who was by then no longer the joint editor of The Navhind Times, Goa's first English-language daily.

Mascarenhas, in turn, gave me an introductory note to K.S.K. Menon, who had been co-editor with Mascarenhas, and later promoted to editor. I took the letter to Menon and, after reading it, said he would contact me if any position arose.

He gave me back the note. I read the Mascarenhas' scribbled note and was shocked. Mascarenhas had introduced me as a "chap" from "my village". It was true, we both came from Colva, but to a young man like me seeking a job it was horrifying to read a learned man like Mascarenhas call me a chap.

It's also true that Mascarenhas and I belong to different strata in Goa's caste system. I couldn't believe a man of his stature could introduce me in such a demeaning way. I think I have the note somewhere in my collection of memorabilia.

I never got a job at The Navhind Times. In later years, I met Mascarenhas in the office of Goa Today. From his days at The Navhind Times to owning Goa Today, Mascarenhas had become an icon in Goan journalism. He had also gained reputation as a novelist for his acclaimed book, Sorrowing Lies My Land. In subsequent years, I learnt a lot about Mascarenhas as a man and his role as a freedom fighter in the liberation struggle in Mumbai. One of his best friends, Professor Edward Mendonca taught me at St. Xavier's College. Mendonca and I came to know each other well after me finishing my graduation. Twice I saw him very drunk and I had to hail a taxi for him and drop him near his house in Colaba.

Mendonca reputation for booze is legendary as his mastery over the English language and his ability to teach. He and me spoke at times of Mascarenhas's reputed novel. Mendonca's hand can be been throughout the book, and many English scholars have also been curious about it. Because of his alcoholism, it became easy for many to dismiss Mendonca's influence in Mascarenhas's book as a boast from a drunkard. Those like me who knew Mendonca reasonably well have reason to believe that Mendonca could be anything but a liar.

I held no grudge against Mascarenhas for calling me a "chap", but deep inside me I carried the wound. Even in Goa I would go to see him. On one such visit, I asked him if he would provide me with an opportunity to write for his magazine. He dismissed me summarily saying he prefers reputed writers. I thought he would encourage a young journalist like me. I resolved never to write for the magazine and I have never written for it.

When I learnt the magazine was taken over by the Salgaocars, I felt happy. Happy not because the magazine no longer belonged to Mascarenhas, but happy because I felt the new owners and the new editor would give opportunities to new writers. As we now know, it has happened. Goa Today was no longer the domain of one man and his ego.

On another visit during summer, I was dressed in a suit. I was to meet the then Chief Minister Dayanand Bandodkar and later attend a wedding in the city. Since I had no personal means of transport, for me to travel from Bogmallo to Panaji and back twice would be difficult, so I had worn the suit and left home early morning. As soon as I told Mascarenhas that I was going to meet Bandodkar, Mascarenhas's face changed colour. He admonished me for wearing a suit to see the chief minister, saying that journalists must be dressed informally. I explained to Mascarenhas, but I could see that Mascarenhas bore some hatred for the late Bhausaheb, as the chief minister was affectionately known.

That very same day, I met some journalists, including Michael Fernandes who, I believe, was The Indian Express correspondent in Goa. I told them that Mascarenhas seemed piqued at me for wearing a suit. If I remember correctly, Fernandes said that Mascarenhas has a personal bias against Bandodkar regarding the withdrawal of government advertisement. He told me that Mascarenhas and Bandodkar were once on a friendly basis, but both had fallen apart.

I think my second adventure in getting a job in Goa came when Erasmo de Sequeira launched his paper, Goa Monitor . I applied for a position but never got appointed. The paper lived for a brief time.

Some years later, my uncle told me that he has an offer from the Chowgules to start a Konkani daily. I came to Goa for a visit and went to see Rodrigues at his residence in Darbandora. He and I designed the logo for Uzvadd, though it may have been refined when the paper was launched. Rodrigues never took up the position as he was to be under the editorial supervision of Madhav Gadkari, the then editor of Gomantak. Gadkari was fiercely pro-Marathi and my uncle felt his efforts to promote Konkani journalism would be subverted by Gadkari. To my surprise, Evagrio Jorge, the noted freedom fighter and news reader at All-India Radio in Panaji, was its first editor. The paper was well received. As expected, Jorge and the owners or probably Gadkari had a difference of opinion. In a short time, Jorge was out and he launched his own paper, Novem Uzvadd.

Throwing light on Uzvadd

Without the financial muscles of the Chowgules that sustained Uzvadd, Jorge's paper suffered. I think it was also during this time that a group started another Konkani daily, Novem Goem. I am not sure why Uzvadd eventually folded up.

My friend, Cyril D'Cunha, started a sports weekly called Goal, and I was its Mumbai correspondent. I contributed many stories till the paper went under for reasons unknown to me. This was my direction connection to Goa's journalism. Later on, I was offered a job at the West Coast Times, a daily launched by the House of Timblos. At least two senior colleagues of mine at the Free Press Journal went to Goa to start the paper. One of them was Y.M. Hegde and the other, P.R. Menon.

Before going to Goa and even after the paper began publishing from Margao in South Goa, Hegde said it would be good for me to come to Goa. I forget the year it was launched and if I was still a freelancer at the Free Press Journal or on its staff. By then, I was not keen on settling down in Goa. To me, Goa was still in the backwaters of journalism. To leave a city like Mumbai where journalism made blood rush in one's veins, and go to Goa, where things moved at a snail's pace, was something I dreaded. When I wanted to come to Goa, I was found unwanted.

After leaving Free Press Journal and joining The Hindu, I met Raul Fernandes one day in Mumbai. He was scouting for talent for O Heraldo, then about to be turned into an English-language daily. I knew Fernandes, though not as well as his brother John and his dad, Antonio Caetano Fernandes.

The Fernandes family was close friends with my friends in Mumbai, the Ribeiros, owners of the Goan restaurant in Dhobitalao called Snowflake. When in Goa, my friend and I went to see AC, as he was popularly known, at the Casa JD Fernandes store in Panaji. And whenever John came to Mumbai to get supplies for their store, he would visit Snowflake where I hung out most of my time.

Raul Fernandes and I met at the Kyani Restaurant in Dhobitalao and he offered me to come to Goa as chief reporter. The offer was unattractive financially for me to leave The Hindu. I was given the impression that Ervelle Menezes, than with Indian Express in Mumbai, was joining as editor. Fernandes was in consultation with Menezes, I was told. At a second meeting, Fernandes informed me that Rajan Narayan was chosen to be the editor. I was surprised. I never had any admiration for Narayan's journalism. I had heard some stories about his resignation from The Mirror, a monthly publication from the Eve's Weekly group. Even though the offer of chief reporter was not tempting, I was not keen on working under Narayan.

I knew Narayan on a hi-and-bye basis when I was at Free Press Journal and he was at Onlooker, a sister-publication from the Free Press Journal group. I forget what position he held at the Onlooker magazine, and whether Narayan was there when M.J. Akbar edited it or later when M. Rahman took over.

I once covered a function at the United States Information Services (USIS) office in Mumbai where Narayan was present. A well-known scholar of Black studies was visiting Mumbai from the United States. Narayan carried with him a book by this scholar. I found it very preposterous on Narayan's part to bring the heavy volume to the meeting.

In fairness to Narayan, he made O Heraldo what it's today. I also heard some allegations about his wheeling-dealing with powers-that-be in the government. Many journalists and some politicians told me that Narayan deserved the violent attack on him as his journalism was biased. No matter what his journalism is, the attack on him was a shameful incident in the history of Goan journalism.

I am told he's Goa's bravest journalist. Maybe true, as I am in no position to judge that from here in Canada. But I find his writing very weak. His editorials and columns have lot of spelling errors and the grammar is often flawed. His column, Stray Thoughts, is not well composed. Just a month or so ago, someone gave me old copies of O Heraldo. Going through his column, I found his thoughts not very cohesive. He writes in a disjointed way. One thing I will agree, he writes strongly, not sparing those whom he targets. If carving a well-written piece is his fault, then using strong language is his forte. I form my opinion not on just the few papers I read recently, but also from reading O Heraldo during my visits to Goa and from those at times posted on the Goanet email list (http://www.goanet.org).

On holiday

Just after a year's stay in Canada, I came to Goa on a holiday. One fine day, Fulgencio Rodrigues, once the leader of the toddy-tappers association and a candidate for the assembly, and a fellow-villager in Bogmallo, came to my house and told me that Umaji Chowgule wanted to meet with me.

I was taken aback as I didn't know Umaji personally. Rodrigues, who worked for the Chowgules, took me on his scooter to meet him Umaji at the Chowgule offices. To my surprise, he offered me a job as joint editor of a sports daily the Chowgules were then planning on launching. The other editor was to be Antonio Botelho, a former sports writer at The Navhind Times, who I knew well, both as writer and later as one of the office-bearers of the Goa Football Association.

I was a landed immigrant in Canada and my first experience in Canada was not very good. There was recession then on and I was finding it difficult to get a job in my field. I worked in a warehouse for sometime, making enough money to buy a ticket to India.

The offer came with a flat in the Sant Inez locality of Panaji and a car. I told Umaji that if I accept the position, I would forfeit my landed immigrant status in Canada. I asked if what would happen if the paper failed to fly. He said he would absorb me in the public relations department of the Chowgules. I went to Sant Inez with one of the Chowgule officers to select a flat. I picked one. After that I went to the Gomantak building to meet with Narayan Athawale, editor of Gomantak . Umaji had explained that Athawale would be the overall in charge of the new paper.

After speaking to Athawale, I met some workers. I noticed some tension among them regarding the launch of a new paper. The workers felt that profits from the Gomantak paper would be diverted to sustain the new sports daily. In other words, the workers would get lesser bonuses. The atmosphere in the press seemed vitiated. I was also aware of what happened to Evagrio Jorge. I was contemplating whether I should risk my Canadian immigration to remain in Goa. My heart and mind was divided, and so was my family. My dad said I should stay back as the job prospects in Canada very dim, but my mom said I should go back and see what the future holds.

At the same time I was engaged and in a week or two would get married. My future wife insisted that I forego the offer and return to Canada. I gave the whole thing a good thought and decided to tell Umaji that I was not interested. He had told me that if I decide to accept the offer, I should finally meet Ramesh Chowgule who, I think, was the managing director of the Chowgule group. I believe the paper was never launched. To this day, I am not sure how the Chowgules came to know about me. My hunch is that Prashant Joshi, former official of the Goa Cricket Association, whose family owns the Joshi and Sons Auto Center in Vasco, told Umaji about me. I had gone to visit Joshi in Vasco when I came to Goa.

During my next visit to Goa, I was happy to know that one of my colleagues at Free Press Journal, Padiyar, was editor of The Navhind Times with another former colleague, M.M. Mudaliar, as his associate. In fact, Mudaliar was passed over by the management after Bikram Vohra left to go to Khaleej Times in Dubai. Mudaliar and me had lunch one day in a Panaji restaurant and he seemed quite distraught. Padiyar, who joined The Navhind Times from The Times of India where he had moved from Free Press Journal, had a brief stint as editor as he passed away following a heart attack.

I knew the publisher of The Navhind Times, Vilas Sardesai, well because of his involvement with soccer. Once when I was in Goa, he, D'Cunha and I travelled in a car he borrowed from Vohra, as his own car was unavailable, all the way from Panaji to Margao to watch a soccer match. I never asked Sardesai for a favour to get me a job at The Navhind Times. I was content working in Mumbai where journalism flourished those days and continues to do so till today.

Grown since

When I check websites of Goan papers or when some friends and family bring Goan papers to Canada from their visits, I notice that Goan journalism has grown since I saw it first-hand. It behooves well for this field that Goa now enjoys many dailies and has correspondents of many leading Indian papers.

The quality of reporting and editing is still not very impressive. What is, however, impressive is that the new breed of journalists shows lot of guts and vitality. I once discussed the teaching of journalism with Fr. Planton Faria, who used to run the Diocesan Communication Centre at the Archbishop's House at Altinho in Panaji.

He showed me the student paper and I saw some good writing. I am not aware if the centre is still operating. Fr. Faria was editing a Konkani paper while also running the centre.

It has been my ambition to have a journalism college in Goa named after Frank Moraes, one of the finest editors in Indian journalism. There may be many who would dispute my suggestion on the basis that Moraes didn't do anything for Goan journalism per se, and I totally agree. No matter he did play a direct role in Goan journalism, but he was a Goan journalist of repute.

One may argue that during the Portuguese days there were many Goan journalists who played crucial roles in promoting Goan journalism. Some of these journalists, who were also leaders, were in the forefront of Goa's liberation struggle. Maybe so, Moraes too played a vital background role in Goa's liberation, largely because of his close friendship with Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru.

Whatever the case, a college of journalism, affiliated to the Goa University, is a dream that I cherish and hope it would be realized in my lifetime. Goa has a privileged status in the history of the written word in India with the publication of the first-ever book in the country. Journalism is part of the written word and, hence, a college that fosters the growth of journalism would be ideal in the serene surrounding of Goa's educational landscape. That's my thought to ponder for those in the decision-making positions.

Chapter 3: West Coast Times : A dream ruined

Valmiki Faleiro

One of Goa's own, home-grown profilic writers between the mid-seventies and mid-eighties, Faleiro worked his way through other professions too, before coming back to commit himself in writing once again, only to reveal a style that remains as readable as ever. Luckily for Goa, Faleiro doesn't rule out the possibility of taking to the pen – or should one say, the computer keyboard – sometime in the near future.

Summer, 1978. Whether Goa's only English daily hit newsstands in Margao at 9 or at 11 in the morning, mattered little. I was preparing for my final B.Com. exams due in a few weeks and had, in any case, tired myself of asking The Navhind Times' management to make it a newspaper (for us in South Goa) that went with breakfast, not brunch.

My association with The Navhind Times (NT) had begun precisely on February 23, 1975. NT carried an article penned jointly by D.M. Silveira and me. (Silveira was one of my two English lecturers at Margao's Damodar College and, with the other, B.G.Koshy, later turned to journalism: Silveira was Editor, ONLOOKER, of Mumbai's FPJ group and Koshy the Associate Ed. of The Current Weekly.)

Then on, the NT Editor, Dr. K.S.K. Menon, encouraged me to write. Off and on, he would also commission me to do Sunday features, sometimes full-page, on topics of prevailing reader interest. Between 1975 and 1978, I had some 45 by-lines at the NT, then a 6-pager (10 pages on Sunday.)

Sometime in between, Dr. K.S.K. asked me to join the NT desk – with free education at Dempo College of Commerce and no-night-shifts baits. I ought to have grabbed the offer. The company was great: K.P. Nair (News Ed), the incredibly witty Balan (Chief Sub), my friend Patrick Michael (a gifted Malayalee who, with me, but surreptitiously, covered North Goa for The Current Weekly – together we had done the Siddarth Bandodkar shooting story, but who K.S.K. ensured stayed as Proof Reader without promotion at the NT!) Gabru and Cyril D'Cunha were at the desk and Gurudas R. ("Kaka") Singbal, Pramod Khandeparkar and Jovito Lopes on the field?

For reasons that will take me off this track, I declined the offer. Promising Dr. K.S.K., however, that I'd join the day I complete graduation – though I never really meant to take journalism as a career. I had set my sights on becoming a Company Secretary after B.Com. but while doing the correspondence course, thought I'd work – and earn pocket money.

The '70s were times of MRTP culture. There were monopolies and there were restrictive trade practices, and Commissions that could barely hold them in check. Even though Dr. K.S.K. to my sheer amazement once bragged that the Prime Minister's private secretary telephoned him while he was shaving just that morning (to compliment him on the day's "excellent" editorial), fact was that NT rarely traveled 35 kilometres to Margao before 8 or 9 in the morning. Times wouldn't change and the NT stood still. It was a proud monopoly, which, after all, had weathered challenges from the likes of Goa Monitor (Papa Baba Sequeira-owned, Jagdish Rao -published, Mario Cabral Sa-edited and Alfred De Tavares -chief reported.)

Back to the summer of 1978. As our 'unholy trinity' of Aleixo, Shekhar and me daily sat at the Govind Poy house on Abade Faria Road, Margao, preparing for our final B.Com. exams, I missed Kaka Singbal – a.k.a. Balsing, the Sunday columnist and Chief Reporter of NT – and Sripad P. Madkaikar, who at one time or the other published most of Goa's dailies. Both had called at home earlier in the day. Kaka left a note saying he had something "interesting" for me and would I kindly see him soon. I met him at his Patto quarters early next morning. He said he had quit NT and joined a newspaper that was going to be published – from Margao! He said the proprietor, Panduronga (Chalebab) Timblo – Papa to most of us – had made a blanket offer: whatever the NT offered me, he would offer more!

I immediately went to Navhind Bhavan. Dr. K.S.K. was seated with Fr. Lactancio Almeida, then Editor of Vauraddeancho Ixtt. I explained that it would help me cope with my Company Secretary studies from the comforts of my own home in Margao? The ex-Army man perennially dressed in cool white almost sprang from the chair, his neatly waxed whiskers bristling with rage: "Are you going to that W.C. s**t Times?"

He tried a different line, "Are you going to join my competitor and stab me in the chest?" And yet another, "Remember I am the P.A.C. (Press Advisory Committee) chairman for another three years – and as long as I'm around, I'll ensure you don't get an accreditation!!"

I was painfully aware that I was reneging on a promise, that by joining a competitor, I'd hurt the hand that had, in good measure, groomed me. But Company Secretaryship was my object – not journalism – and I honestly imagined that studying the course material and sending out its Response Sheets would be better done from home and without working on shifts, as I'd at NT. [I was, eventually, recompensed with poetic justice. I hadn't reckoned that joining a fledgling – nay, nascent – publication as its Staff Reporter, with added responsibility of news-gathering in South Goa (which meant re-writing copy from mofussil correspondents who largely hailed from a vernacular background) would be so engrossing an affair that I ended up sending not a single Response Sheet to the Institute of Company Secretaries of India!]

The West Coast Times (WCT) began churning out dummies by late-June 1978. My die was cast on June 6, 1978, by way of acceptance of the appointment letter, personally signed by Papa (Panduronga Timblo) himself. One of the most promising publishing ventures in the history of Goa's print media was about to take off?

The mid-'70s witnessed a boom in Goa's mining industry, both in terms of productivity and profitability. Panduronga Timblo Industrias (PTI) had evidently also made pots of cash, particularly from its manganese mines in Rivona, Quepem. While brother, Gurudas' Timblo Private Limited (TPL) had during this time invested in some far-sighted (but alas, badly managed) industrial enterprises, including fertilizers, rubber footwear and collapsible tubes, youngest brother, Modu's Sociedade de Fomento Industrial (SFI) was consolidating its strengths in mining and diversifying into hospitality. PTI did not lag behind – with Parshuram Paper Mills at Chiplun, industrial gases in Bangalore and, to the surprise of many, an English-language newspaper from Margao!