By Prabir Biswas
Veteran journalist, a former politician, a man of erudition, and, most of all, a quintessential bhadralok, Chandan Mitra is no more. He left the world, rather too early at the age of 66.
I was fortunate enough to work with him in 2000, but just for a month or so during my first, and only, foray into the newspaper industry. As I sit to put my pen to paper, some vivid memories come to mind.
I was then a young journalist working in a news magazine with a big media house in NCR. Most of us were in our mid-30s, at least in the editorial department, and a gust of inspiration and motivation had swept us all to try for greener pastures. I applied in The Pioneer, a newspaper of repute in those days, for a desk job hoping against hope that I would be considered for I had no experience of working in a newspaper.
In the interview, Mr Mitra listened to me patiently and got a measure of my earnestness. I promised him that I will put my best in picking up fast not only the rudiments of newspaper journalism but also the tricks of the trade. I got the job. But the point here is being that the top man of the newspaper, he was willing to listen patiently to my points of view on politics, sports and other subjects and, most importantly, how I felt a newspaper should be in terms of content and design. He did not wish me away as a foolish loudmouth who had no experience. I had worked in magazines for quite a number of years, but I was a “fresher” in the newspaper domain.
I got to know the man better when I could not finally join in the date decided mutually and had to postpone it, and that too twice. These matters are normally dealt with by HR personnel in organisations. But my request to deal directly with him was entertained by him, and I could reach him whenever I needed to over phone. He was just a phone call away. Such was the humility of the man. He was outright modest and unpretentious.
My interactions with Mr Mitra were few and far between after I finally joined, but they were memorable. I was thrown under the command of the desk head, a stern young woman who was a hard taskmaster and meant business and did not entertain sloppy work. Initially, I was put on the general shift to get a feel of the entire system and contribute with my editing skills. Page making is an essential part of a desk person in a newspaper but I did not have that skill and knowledge as I had come from a magazine background where designers make pages.
Mr Mitra would regularly ask how I was faring and whether I was facing any difficulty in my work or finding it hard to adjust to the new system. He said I could take my time but try and pick up things fast as he had a bigger role in mind for me in the newspaper. He even made arrangements so that I could learn PageMaker, a software prevalent in those days, after my shift hours.
I was also called for editorial meetings along with other senior editors by Mr Mitra despite the fact that there were no reasons for doing so. I was just a rookie. I will never forget this gesture of his. He knew how to inspire others and not stamp out potential.
Although senior editors can be brusque and impatient and intolerant, Mr Mitra never hit out at me. To make me comfortable, he would speak to me in my mother tongue. He probably realised that I was trying my best to live up to his expectations. But he would also remind me that I could not afford to take it easy.
I enjoyed every day of my working in the newspaper as it was a learning and enlightening experience. I took keen interest in sports pages, edit pages and feature pages. Coming back from work in the wee hours felt thrilling. I was getting into the groove. There was so much to learn from all, including my affable colleagues and seniors. My inputs for the newspaper were keenly looked into, not thrown aside. Of course, I would also be reprimanded for my mistakes.
As I look back, I cherish my brief but memorable association with Mr Mitra. May he rest in peace.