Media 2014 may web file by lakshmi Anandhakrishnan

May 2014 | Vol. 3 | Issue 1 | Price ` 20

The journalistic education of

Gabriel García Márquez

{]kv A¡mZan ]pkvXI§Ä 30% iXam\w hne¡ngnhnð

hr¯m´]{X{]hÀ¯\w þ kztZim`nam\n cmaIrjv W ]n- Å þ hne: 40.00 cq] kztZim`nam\n: cmPt{Zmlnbmb cmPykv t \ln þ Sn.thWptKm]me³ þ hne: 260.00 cq] F.sI.]nÅ: BZÀi§fpsS càkm£n þ F.cm[mIrjv W ³ þ hne: 200.00 cq] s\òenbpsS I¼n þ sI.sI.taml\³ þ hne: 75.00 cq] Im¼ntÈcn: Imew Im¯ph¨ ]{Xm[n]À þ sI.kpµtci³ þ hne: 75.00 cq] hmÀ¯bpsS inð]ime (aqómw ]Xn¸v ) þ F³.F³.kXy{hX³ þ hne: 200.00 cq] aebmf ]{X`mj: hnImk ]cnWma§Ä þ hn.]n.kpss_À þ hne: 200.00 cq] hmÀ¯, IY, hyhlmcw þ BâWn kn. tUhnkv þ hne: 125.00 cq] dnt¸mÀ«À þ {]ikvX cmb apXnÀó 18 ]{X{]hÀ¯- IÀ, FUnäÀ: C.]n.jmPp±o³ þ hne: 100.00 cq] hn]nBÀ dohnknäUv -þ A¦nX NocI¯nð þ hne: 200.00 cq]

tIm¸nIÄ¡v: sk{I«dn, tIcf {]kv A¡mZan, Im¡\mSv, sIm¨n þ 682 030; t^m¬: 0484 2422275 sNt¡m UnUntbm aWntbmÀUtdm Ab¡pI

sabv 2014 $ ]pkvXIw 3 $ e¡w 1 $ hne ` 20

10 The Hack

Miles Corwin

Ip\nbm³ ]dbpwapt¼ Cgbp-t¼mÄ Fw. Pn. cm-[m-Ir-jvW³ Points to Poynter

Ashok R Chandran

tP-W-en-kw a-cn-¡nñ, AXn-\v a-l¯m-b `m-hn-bpïvv

sP-dm-Uv t_-¡À

FUntämdnbð ap³t] ]dóhÀ ]n. kpPm-X³

{^w hÀ½mPn, hn¯v eu 28 sI. Fð. taml\hÀ½

Students’ Corner

hmb-\

J. V. Vil’anilam

jmPn tP¡_v

Does the Media Shape the Woman’s Body?

Bookshelf

Shoma A. Chatterji

C.]n.jmPpZo³

Media Millionaires

04 15

Peter Hart

\yqkv s\äv

temIw Iï hc

46 47 50

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FUntämdnbð

-h- f-cp-ó P-\m-[n-]-Xyw, X-f-cp-ó a-\pjykzm-X-{´yw

tem Editor N. P. Rajendran Chairman, Kerala Press Academy Editorial Board E. P. Shajuddeen Senior News Editor, Mangalam, Kottayam N. Rajesh News Editor, Madhyamam, Kozhikode M. P. Suryadas Chief Sub Editor, Mathrubhumi, Kozhikode P. Sujathan T. R. Madhukumar Editor In Charge, Deshabhimani Weekly, Kozhikode C. N. Mohanan Manager, Deshabhimani, Kochi Editorial Assistant P. Salil Design & Layout Praveen Ophelia Printer & Publisher V. R. Ajith Kumar Secretary, Kerala Press Academy Marketing In Charge Shainus Markose Address 'Media' Kerala Press Academy Kakkanad, Kochi - 682 030 Phone: 0484 2422275 E-Mail: media.kpa@gmail.com Website: www.pressacademy.org Subscribe ‘Media’ Single Issue: ` 20 Annual Subscription: ` 200 Advertisement tariff Back cover: Color: ` 30,000 Inside cover: Color: ` 25,000 Inside B&W: ` 20,000

sabv 2014

-I-¯‑n-s‑e G-äh‑p‑w he‑n-b P-\‑m-[‑n-]-X‑y-c‑mP‑y‑w F-¶ C-´‑yb‑p-s‑S A-h-I‑m-i-h‑mZ-s‑¯ i-c‑n-s‑h-¡‑p‑w-h‑n-[‑w‑, ]-d-b-¯-¡ A-{‑I-a-§t‑f‑m A-\‑n-ã-k‑w-`-h-§t‑f‑m CÃ‑m-s‑X H-c‑p s‑]‑m-X‑p-X‑n-c-s‑ª-S‑p-¸‑n-s‑â \-S-]-S‑n-{‑I-a-§Ä ]‑qÀ-¯‑n-b‑mb‑n. t‑I‑m-S‑n-¡-W-¡‑n\‑v B-f‑p-I-f‑p-Å H-c‑p h‑n-Ik‑z-c c‑mP‑y‑w C-{‑X-b‑p‑w B-[‑p-\‑n-I-a‑m-b c‑o-X‑n-b‑nÂ t‑h‑m-«‑n-§‑v b-{‑´-§-f‑n-e‑q-s‑S k-½X‑n-Z‑m-\‑m-h-I‑m-i‑w h‑n-\‑n-t‑b‑m-K‑n-¨‑p F-¶-X‑v c‑m-j‑v{‑S‑o-b-a‑mb‑p‑w k‑m-¼-¯‑n-I-a‑mb‑p‑w k‑m-t‑¦-X‑n-I-i‑m-k‑v-{‑X-]-c-a‑mb‑p‑w a‑p-¶‑nÂ-\‑nÂ-¡‑p¶ c‑m-P‑y-§Ä-¡‑v I‑q-S‑n A-Û‑pX-a‑p-f-h‑m-¡‑p-¶-‑p F-¶‑v ]-d-b‑m-s‑X h¿. L-S-\‑m-]-ca‑m-b‑n P-\‑m-[‑n-]X‑y‑w C-´‑y-b‑nÂ t‑h-c‑p-d-¨‑p-I-g‑n-ª‑p‑, A-X‑v i-à‑n-s‑¸-S‑p-I-b‑m-W‑v. C¡‑m-c‑y-¯‑nÂ k‑w-i-b-a‑nÃ. \-a‑p-s‑¡Ã‑m‑w A-X‑nÂ A-`‑na‑m-\-a‑p-ï‑v. P-\‑m-[‑n-]-X‑y-¯‑n-\‑v L-S-\ a‑m{‑X‑w t‑]‑m-c. A-©‑p-hÀ-j‑w I‑q-S‑p-t‑¼‑m-g‑p -Å t‑h‑m-s‑«-S‑p-¸‑v D-bÀ-¶ k‑m-t‑¦-X‑n-I h‑n-Z‑y D-]-t‑b‑m-K‑n-¨‑p-ÅX‑p‑w \‑n-b-a‑m-\‑pk‑r-Xh‑p‑w k-a‑m-[‑m-\-]-ch‑p‑w B-b-X‑p-s‑I‑mï‑p‑w a‑m{‑X‑w P-\‑m-[‑n-]X‑y‑w AÀ-°]‑qÀ-W-a‑m-b‑n F-¶‑v A-h-I‑m-i-s‑¸-S‑m-\‑m-h‑nÃ. P-\‑m-[‑n-]-X‑y-¯‑n-s‑â a‑q-e‑y-§Ä `-c-W‑m-[‑n-I‑m-c‑n-s‑b X‑n-c-s‑ª-S‑p-¡‑p-¶-X‑nÂ A-h-k‑m-\‑n-¡‑p-¶‑nÃ. `-c-W‑m-[‑n-I‑m-c‑n \‑n-b-ah‑p‑w `-c-W-L-S-\b‑p‑w A-\‑p-i‑m-k‑n-¡‑p-¶ h‑n-[‑w {‑]-hÀ-¯‑n-¨‑me‑p‑w t‑]‑m-c. H-c‑p k‑w-k‑v-I‑m-c-h‑p‑w P‑o-h‑n-X-c‑o-X‑n-b‑p‑w B-b‑n hft‑c-ï-X‑m-W‑v P-\‑m-[‑n-]-X‑y‑w. s‑]‑m-X‑p-X‑n-c-s‑ª-S‑p-¸‑n-s‑â t‑I‑m-e‑m-l-e-§Ä-¡‑n-S-b‑nÂ A-[‑n-I-a‑mc‑p‑w {‑i-²‑n¡‑m-s‑X ]‑p-d-¯‑n-d-§‑n-b H-c‑p d‑n-t‑¸‑mÀ-«‑v C-´‑y³ P-\‑m-[‑n-]X‑y‑w t‑\-c‑n-S‑p-¶ K‑u-ch-t‑ad‑n-b N‑n-e {‑]-h-W-X-I-f‑n-t‑e-¡‑v {‑i-² £-W‑n-¡‑p-¶-X‑m-b‑n-c‑p¶‑p. G-ä-h‑p-t‑as‑d {‑i-²‑n-t‑¡-ï‑n-b‑nc‑p¶-X‑v a‑m-[‑y-a-§-f‑m-b‑n-c‑p¶‑p. A-h-c‑p‑w {‑i-²‑n-¨‑nÃ. 2014s‑e B-Z‑y-s‑¯ a‑q-¶‑p-a‑m-k-§-f‑nÂ C-´‑y-b‑nÂ P-\‑m-[‑n-]-X‑y-¯‑n-s‑â \-s‑«Ã‑m-b A`‑n-{‑]‑m-b-{‑]I-S-\ k‑z‑m-X-{‑´‑y-¯‑n-\‑v t‑\s‑c \-S-¶ K‑u-c-h-t‑ad‑n-b s‑s‑I-t‑b-ä-§Ä A-¡-a‑n-«‑v \‑n-c-¯‑p-¶-X‑m-b‑n-c‑p-¶‑p B d‑n-t‑¸‑mÀ«‑v. Z- l‑q-S‑v- t‑U‑m-S‑v- H‑mÀK‑v (thehoot.org‑) X-¿‑m-d‑m¡‑n-b d‑n-t‑¸‑mÀ-«‑v c‑m-P‑y-¯‑v C-t‑¸‑mg‑p‑w \‑n-e-\‑nÂ-¡‑p-¶ s‑k³-kÀ-j‑n-¸‑v a-t‑\‑m-`‑m-h-¯‑n-t‑e-¡‑m-W‑v h‑n-cÂ N‑qï‑nbX‑v. A-S‑n-b-´-c‑m-h-Ø-b‑nÂ s‑k³-kÀ-j‑n-¸‑v \-S-¸‑m¡‑n-b kÀ-¡‑m-d‑ns‑\ \-a‑p-s‑¡§-s‑\ I‑p-ä-s‑¸-S‑p-¯‑m-\‑m-h‑p‑w? A¶-s‑¯ s‑k-³-kÀ-j‑n-¸‑n-s‑\ I‑p-d‑n-¨‑v h‑m-t‑X‑m-c‑m-s‑X k‑w-k‑m-c‑n-¡‑m-d‑p-Å a-Xþc‑m-j‑v-{‑S‑o-b {‑K‑q-¸‑p-IÄ a‑m-{‑X-aÃ‑, A-`‑n-{‑]‑m-b-k‑z‑m-X-{‑´‑y-¯‑n-s‑â k‑w-c-£-Ic‑m-b s‑]‑m-X‑p-A-[‑n-I‑m-c-t‑I-{‑µ-§Ä a‑p-XÂ `-c-W-L-S-\‑m-Ø‑m-]-\-§Ä h-s‑c H-c‑p X-c-¯‑n-e-s‑Ã-¦‑n-Â a-s‑ä‑m-c‑p-X-c¯‑nÂ s‑k³-kÀ-j‑n-¸‑n-\‑v a‑p-t‑¶‑m-«‑ph-¶‑p F-¶‑v I‑m-W‑n-¡‑p-¶-X‑m-W‑v d‑n-t‑¸‑mÀ-«‑v. `-c-WL-S-\ D-d-¸‑p-h-c‑p-¯‑p¶ A-`‑n-{‑]‑m-b-k‑z‑m-X-{‑´‑y‑w s‑I‑m-ï‑v \‑n-e\‑nÂ-¡‑p-¶ k‑w-LS‑n-X {‑]-Ø‑m-\-§Ä \-S-¯‑n-b s‑k³-kÀ-j‑n-¸‑v b-X‑v-\-§Ä B-t‑cb‑p‑w A-¼-c-¸‑n-¡‑p-¶-X‑m-W‑v. C-h-s‑cÃ‑m‑w X-§-f‑p-s‑S A-`‑n-{‑]‑m-b-k‑z‑m-X-{‑´‑y‑w D-bÀ-¯‑n¸‑n-S‑n-¡‑p-¶-X‑n-t‑\-¡‑mÄ {‑]‑m-[‑m-\‑y‑w A-\‑y-s‑â B k‑z‑m-X-{‑´‑y‑w D‑u-X‑n-s‑¡-S‑p-¯‑p¶-X‑n-\‑m-W‑v \Â-I‑p¶-X‑v F-¶‑v h‑y-à-a‑m-¡‑p-¶-X‑m-W‑v d‑n-t‑¸‑mÀ-«‑n-\‑v B-[‑m-ca‑m-b h‑n-h-c-§Ä. k‑m-a‑m\‑y‑w K‑p-c‑p-X-c-a‑m-b -A-¼-¯‑n-c-ï‑v A-`‑n-{‑]‑m-b-k‑z‑m-X-{‑´‑y-\‑n-t‑j-[ {‑i-a-§Ä D-ï‑m-b‑n C‑u a‑q-¶‑p-a‑m-k-¡‑m-e-¯‑v. h‑n-Z‑y‑mÀ-°‑n k‑w-L-S-\IÄ‑, k‑wØ‑m-\ -kÀ-¡‑m-d‑p-IÄ‑, t‑e‑m-I‑v-k-`‑m- s‑k-{‑I-t‑«-d‑nb-ä‑v ‑, ^‑n-e‑n‑w- kÀ-«‑n-^‑n-t‑¡-j³ s‑k³-{‑SÂ- t‑_‑mÀU‑v‑, l‑n-µ‑pX‑z -k‑w-L-S-\IÄ‑, t‑I-{‑µ C-³-^À-t‑a-j³ h-I‑p-¸‑v, X-a‑n-g‑v k‑w-L-S-\IÄ‑, N‑n-e k‑z-I‑m-c‑y- h‑y-h-k‑m-b-§Ä F-¶‑n-h-b‑v-¡‑v F-X‑n-s‑c K‑p-c‑p-X-ca‑m-b s‑k³-kÀ-j‑n-¸‑v B-t‑c‑m-]-W-§Ä D-bÀ-¶‑p-h-¶‑p. C-¡‑m-e‑wh-s‑c D-ï‑m-b‑n-«‑nÃ‑m-¯ H-c‑n-\‑w h‑n-N‑n{‑X s‑k³-kÀ-j‑n-¸‑v \-S-¸‑m-

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¡‑nb-X‑v C-´‑y³ P-\-{‑]-X‑n-\‑n-[‑n-k-`-b‑p-s‑S s‑k-{‑I-t‑«-d‑nb-ä‑v B-s‑W-¶-X‑n\‑v B k-`-b‑n-t‑e-¡‑v X‑n-c-s‑ª-S‑p-¸‑v \-S-¡‑p-¶ C‑u k-a-b-¯‑v he‑n-b {‑]‑m-[‑m-\‑y‑w s‑s‑I-h-c‑p¶‑p. s‑X-e-¦‑m-\ k‑w-Ø‑m-\ c‑q-]-hÂ-¡c-W‑w k‑w-_-Ô‑n-¨ A-h-k‑m-\ -t‑h‑m-s‑«-S‑p-¸‑v t‑e‑mI‑v-k-`-b‑nÂ \-S-¶ ^‑n-{‑_‑p-h-c‑n 17\‑v t‑I-{‑µ B-`‑y-´-c-I‑m-c‑y-a-{‑´‑n k‑p-i‑oÂ I‑p-a‑mÀ j‑n³-s‑U k‑wk‑m-c‑n-¨‑p X‑p-S§-s‑h s‑]s‑«¶‑v t‑e‑m-I‑vk-`‑m s‑S-e‑n-h‑n-j³ k‑w-t‑{‑]j-W‑w \‑n-e-b‑v-¡‑p-I-b‑m-W‑v D-ï‑m-bX‑v. C-s‑X‑m-c‑p k‑m-t‑¦-X‑n-I XS-Ê‑w a‑m-{‑X-a‑m-b‑m-W‑v N‑n-{‑X‑o-Ic‑n-¡-s‑¸-«-X‑v. ]-t‑£‑, kX‑y‑w A-X‑m-b‑n-c‑p-¶‑nÃ-s‑{‑X. ]‑pX‑n-b c‑m-j‑v{‑S‑o-b- k‑m-l-N-c‑y-§-f‑p-a‑m-b‑n _-Ô-a‑p-t‑ï‑m F-¶-d‑n-ª‑p-I‑qS‑m. a‑q-¶‑p-a‑m-k-¯‑n-\‑n-S-b‑nÂ c‑m-P‑y-¯‑v \-S-¶ 52Â 12 s‑k³-kÀ-j‑n-¸‑v k‑w-`-h-§Ä¡‑p‑w h‑y-X‑yk‑v-X l‑n-µ‑p-X‑z {‑K‑q-¸‑p-I-f‑m-W‑v D-¯-c-h‑m-Z‑n-IÄ F-¶‑v d‑n-t‑¸‑mÀ-«‑v s‑h-f‑n-h‑m-¡‑p¶‑p. C-X‑nÂ t‑e‑m-I-{‑i-²-b‑m-IÀ-j‑n-¨ k‑w`-h‑w l‑n-µ‑p-a-X-s‑¯ -I‑p-d‑n-¨‑p-Å H-c‑p ]T-\-I‑r-X‑n Gt‑X‑m H-c‑p \‑nÊ‑m-c C‑uÀ-¡‑nÂ- k‑w-L-S\-b‑p-s‑S `‑o-j-W‑n-¡‑v hg-§‑n t‑e‑m-I-{‑]-ik‑v-X ]‑p-k‑v-X-I-{‑]-k‑m-[-\- Ø‑m-]-\a‑m-b s‑]³-K‑z‑n³ ]‑n³-h-e‑n-¨-X‑mW‑v. ]‑p-k‑vX-I‑w h‑n]-W‑n-b‑nÂ-\‑n-¶‑v ]‑n³-h-e‑n-¡-s‑¸«‑p. ]‑p-k‑v-X-I§Ä‑, \‑m-S-I§Ä‑, k‑n-\‑n-a-IÄ X‑p-S§‑n-b H-t‑«-s‑d I-e‑m-k‑r-ã‑n-IÄ X-S-b-s‑¸«‑p. C-h-b‑p-s‑S D-Å-S-¡-§-f‑nÂ H-c‑p X-c-¯‑n-e‑p-a‑p-Å \‑n-b-a-e‑w-L-\-h-‑p‑w B-t‑c‑m-]‑n-¡-s‑¸-«‑n-c‑p-¶‑n-s‑Ã-¶‑v I‑qS‑n H‑mÀ-¡W‑w. N‑n-eÀ-¡‑v C-ã-s‑¸-«‑nÃ. t‑h-s‑d‑m-c‑p \‑y‑m-b-h‑p‑w CÃ. F-g‑p-¯‑p-I‑mÀ-¡‑p‑w a‑m-[‑y-a-{‑]-hÀ-¯-IÀ¡‑p‑w a-ä‑v kÀ-K‑m-ß-I {‑]-h-À-¯-I-À¡‑p‑w t‑\-s‑c-b‑m-W‑v s‑k³-kÀ-j‑n-¸‑n-s‑â h‑mf‑p-bÀ¶-X‑v F-t‑¶‑mÀ-¡-W‑w. H-c‑p h‑n-`‑m-K-s‑a-¶ \‑n-e-b‑nÂ G-ä-h‑p-t‑a-s‑d B-{‑I-a‑n-¡-s‑¸«-X‑v a‑m-[‑y-a-{‑]-hÀ-¯-IÀ -X-s‑¶. ]-{‑X-§f‑p‑w N‑m-\e‑p‑w s‑h-_‑v-s‑s‑k-ä‑p-s‑aÃ‑m‑w C-X‑nÂ- s‑]-S‑p‑w. H‑m-t‑c‑mt‑c‑m k‑w-`-hh‑p‑w C-g-I‑o-d‑n ]-c‑n-t‑i‑m-[‑n-¡‑m³ {‑]-b‑m-k-a‑p-ï‑v. ]t‑£‑, \-½‑p-s‑S t‑I-c-f-¯‑nÂ \-S-¶ G-äh‑p‑w \‑n-I‑r-ãa‑m-b s‑k³-k-d‑n-§‑v b-X‑v-\-s‑¯-I‑p-d‑n-¨‑v ]-c‑m-aÀ-i‑n-¡‑m-X‑n-c‑n-¡‑m³ ]-ä‑nÃ. a‑m-X‑m A-a‑r-X‑m-µa-b‑o t‑Z-h‑n-b‑p-s‑S B-{‑i-a-¯‑nÂ Z‑oÀ-L-I‑m-e‑w {‑]-hÀ-¯‑n-¨ h‑n-t‑Z-i-h\‑n-X B-{‑i-a_-Ô‑w D-t‑]-£‑n-¨ t‑i-j‑w F-g‑pX‑n-b h‑n-i‑p-²-\c-I‑w F-¶ ]‑p-k‑vX-I‑w CâÀ-s‑\-ä‑v h-g‑n t‑e‑m-I-s‑a§‑p‑w {‑]-N-c‑n-¨-t‑¸‑mÄ k‑z‑m-`‑m-h‑n-I-a‑m-b‑p‑w {‑i-²‑n¡-s‑¸«‑p. {‑K-Ù-I‑m-c‑n A-a‑r-X‑m-\-µ-a-b‑n-s‑bb‑p‑w B-{‑i-a-s‑¯b‑p‑w ]‑p-I-g‑v-¯‑p-¶ H-c‑p ]‑p-k‑v-X-I-a‑m-W‑v F-g‑p-X‑n-b‑n-c‑p-¶-s‑X-¦‑nÂ A-X‑n-s‑\‑m«‑p‑w h‑mÀ-¯‑m-{‑]‑m-[‑m-\‑y‑w I‑n«‑p-a‑m-b‑n-c‑p-¶‑nÃ. B k-\‑y‑m-k‑n-\‑n-b‑p-s‑S C-´‑y³ P‑o-h‑nX-s‑¯ I‑p-d‑n-¨‑v H-c‑p-]‑m-S‑v I‑m-c‑y§Ä ]‑p-k‑v-X-I-¯‑n-e‑p-ï‑m-b‑n-c‑p-¶‑p-s‑h-¦‑ne‑p‑w k‑z‑m-`‑m-h‑n-I-a‑m-b‑p‑w {‑i-²‑n-¡-s‑¸«-X‑v A-a‑r-X‑m-\-µ-a-b‑n-s‑bb‑p‑w B-{‑i-a-s‑¯b‑p‑w X‑m-d-S‑n-¡‑p-¶ ]-c‑m-aÀ-i-§-f‑m-b‑n-c‑p-¶‑p. I‑p-ä-I‑r-X‑y-§Ä‑, s‑s‑e‑w-K‑n-I-I‑m-c‑y§Ä‑, [-\ Z‑p-c‑p-]-t‑b‑m-K-§Ä... C-s‑XÃ‑m‑w h‑mÀ-¯-If‑mW‑v. C-h {‑]-k‑n-²-s‑¸-S‑p-¯‑m-X‑n-c‑n-¡‑m-\‑p-Å k‑z‑m-X-{‑´‑y‑w a‑m-[‑y-a-§Ä-¡‑p-ï‑v. FÃ‑m t‑a‑m-ia‑m-b I‑m-c‑y-§f‑p‑w A-d‑n-b‑n-¨‑p-s‑I‑mÅ‑m-s‑a-¶ I-c‑m-s‑d‑m¶‑p‑w B-c‑p-a‑mb‑p‑w a‑m-[‑y-a-§Ä H-¸‑p-s‑h-¨‑n-«‑nÃ. F-¶‑mÂ t‑a‑m-ia‑m-b I‑m-c‑y-§Ä A-d‑n-b‑n-¡‑m³ G-s‑X-¦‑ne‑p‑w H-c‑p a‑m-[‑y-a‑w X‑o-c‑p-a‑m-\‑n-¨‑mÂ A-X‑n-\‑v C-´‑y³ `-c-WL-S-\ D-d-¸‑p-\Â-I‑p-¶ k‑w-c£-W‑w \Â-I‑n-t‑b X‑oc‑q. C-h‑n-s‑S A-X‑p-ï‑mb‑nÃ. ]-e a‑m-[‑y-a-§Ä-s‑¡-X‑n-s‑c-b‑p‑w `‑o-j-W‑n-I-f‑p-ï‑mb‑n‑, B-{‑I-a-W-§-f‑p-ï‑mb‑n. C-X‑p-a‑m-b‑n _-Ô-s‑¸-« ]‑p-k‑vX-I‑w {‑]-k‑n-²‑oI-c‑n-¨ Ø‑m-]-\-¯‑n-\‑v F-X‑n-s‑cb‑p‑w `‑o-j-W‑n-I-f‑p-ï‑m-b‑n. P-\‑m-[‑n-]X‑y‑w ]-h‑n-{‑Xh‑p‑w h‑n-e-s‑¸-«-X‑pa‑m-I‑p¶-X‑v N‑n-´‑n-¡‑m-\‑p‑w I-s‑ï-¯‑m-\‑p‑w A-d‑n-b‑n-¡‑m-\‑p-a‑p-Å a-\‑p-j‑y‑m-h-I‑m-i-§Ä k‑w-c-£‑n-¡-s‑¸-S‑p-t‑¼‑m-g‑mW‑v. N‑n-´‑m-k‑z‑m-X-{‑´‑yh‑p‑w A-`‑n-{‑]‑m-b k‑z‑m-X-{‑´‑yh‑p‑w CÃ‑m-s‑X P-\‑m-[‑n-]-X‑yh‑p‑w D-ï‑m-I‑nÃ. N‑n-´‑mk‑z‑m-X-{‑´‑y-¯‑n\‑p‑w A-`‑n-{‑]‑m-b-k‑z‑m-X-{‑´‑y-¯‑n\‑p‑w F-X‑n-s‑c h‑m-s‑f-S‑p-¡‑m³ B-s‑cb‑p‑w A-\‑p-h-Z‑n-¨‑p-I‑qS‑m. X‑n-c-s‑ª-S‑p-¸‑p-IÄ \-S-¯‑p-¶-X‑n-\‑v C-e-£³ I-½‑oj-\‑v \Â-I‑n-b‑n-«‑p-Å‑, A-a‑n-X-s‑a-¶‑v N‑n-e-s‑c-¦‑ne‑p‑w I-c‑p-X‑p-¶ A-[‑n-I‑m-c-§-t‑f‑ms‑S‑, A-`‑n-{‑]‑m-bk‑z‑m-X-{‑´‑y k‑w-c‑w-£-W-¯‑n-\‑p‑w ]-c-a‑m-[‑nI‑m-c Ø‑m-]-\-§Ä D-ï‑m-IW‑w. {‑I-a-k-a‑m-[‑m-\-]‑m-e-\-¯‑n-\‑v \‑n-t‑b‑m-K‑n-¡-s‑¸-S‑p-¶h-c‑p-s‑S C-ã-¯‑n-s‑\‑m-¯‑v \Â-I-s‑¸-S‑p-I-t‑b‑m ]‑n³-h-e‑n-¡-s‑¸-S‑p-It‑b‑m s‑N-t‑¿-ï-h-bÃ a-\‑p-j‑y-s‑â a‑u-e‑n-I‑m-h-I‑m-i-§Ä.

tIcf {]kv A¡mZan `cW kanXn sNbÀam³: F³. ]n. cmtP{µ³ (sU]yq«n FUnäÀ, amXr`qan) sshkv sNbÀam³: sI. kn. cmPtKm]mð (aebmfat\mca) FIvknIyq«ohv t_mÀUv: Fw. Fkv. chn (amt\Pn§v UbdÎÀ, tIcfIuapZn), F³. cmtPjv (\yqkvFUnäÀ, am[yaw, tImgnt¡mSv), UbdÎÀ (]»nIv dntej³kv), sk{I«dn (^n\m³kv Un¸mÀ«vsaâv), sk{I«dn (P\dð AUvan\nt{Ìj³) P\dð Iu¬knð: Sn. BÀ. a[pIpamÀ (FUnäÀ C³ NmÀPv, tZim`nam\n hmcnI, tImgnt¡mSv), C. ]n. jmPp±o³ (ko\nbÀ \yqkv FUnäÀ, awKfw, tIm«bw), Fw.]n. kqcyZmkv (No^v k_v FUnäÀ, amXr`qan, tImgnt¡mSv), Fkv. _nPp (No^v tImÀUnt\än§v FUnäÀ, Gjyms\äv \yqkv, Xncph\´]pcw), kn. F³. taml\³ (amt\PÀ, tZim`nam\n, sIm¨n), _nPp hÀ¤okv (amt\Pn§v FUnäÀ, awKfw), ]n. ]n. k®n (amt\Pn§v UbdÎÀ, Zo]nI), sI. Fw. tdmbv (ko\nbÀ tPWenÌv), It¡mS³ apl½Zv, hn. F. kenw (sdknUâv amt\PÀ, am[yaw, FdWmIpfw), sP. Fkv. CµpIpamÀ (FIvknIyq«ohv FUnäÀ, Pbvlnµv Snhn), hn. cmPtKm]mð (ap³ sU]yq«n FUnäÀ, amXr`qan, tImgnt¡mSv), ]n. kpPmX³, t__n amXyp (amt\Pn§v UbdÎÀ & sshkv sNbÀam³, Poh³ Snhn), sNdpIc k®n eqt¡mkv (kvs]jð Idkvt]mïâv, tIcfiÐw) sk{I«dn C³ NmÀPv: F³. ]n. kt´mjv

sabv 2014

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Fw. Pn. cm-[m-Ir-jvW³

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h³I‑nS a‑m[‑ya§Ä¡‑v t‑]‑me‑p‑w AX‑v A{‑X Ff‑p¸aÃ‑m¯ AhØb‑mb‑nc‑n¡‑p¶‑p. Ht‑c {‑K‑q¸‑ns‑â A¨S‑n a‑m-[‑ya‑w ]c¼c‑mKXa‑m-b c‑m{‑ã‑obX‑mÂ¸c‑y-§f‑p‑w ]£]‑mX-§-f‑p‑w X‑pSc‑pt‑¼‑mg‑p‑w Ahc‑ps‑S S‑n.h‑n. N‑m\Â I‑q-S‑pXÂ \‑nj‑v]£h‑p‑w k‑zX{‑´h‑p‑w h‑naÀi\‑mßIh‑pa‑mb ka‑o]\‑w k‑z‑oIc‑n¡‑p¶X‑v ]‑pX‑nb a‑m[‑ya-§f‑nÂ Xak‑v-Ic-Wh‑p‑w \K‑v-\a‑mb ]£]‑m-Xh‑p‑w hfs‑c Ff‑p-¸¯‑nÂ X‑pd¶‑p I‑m«s‑¸S‑p-Ib‑p‑w AX‑n\‑mÂXs‑¶ BßlX‑y‑m]ca‑mI‑p-I b‑p‑w s‑N¿‑ps‑a¶X‑n\‑me‑mW‑v. ]t‑£ CX‑n-\À°‑w a‑m[‑ya§f‑ps‑S ]£]‑m-Xh‑p‑w Xa k‑v-Ic-Wh‑p‑w Ahk‑m\‑ns‑¨¶‑mt‑W‑m? Hc‑n¡e‑paÃ. a‑ps‑¼‑m sabv 2014

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]mÝmXytemI¯v A¨Snam[ya§sf¡pdn¨p Å GXv kw`mjWhpw Nctam]Nmc{]kwK §Ä¡v kam\ambn¡gnªp. A©v \qämïv \oï A[nImc¯n\ptijamWv A¨Sn am[ya¯nsâ Cu AhtcmlWw. A¨Snam[ya§Ä acn¨n«nsÃ¦nepwC´ybpw ssN-\bpw t]msebpÅ Gjy³ cmPy-§fnÂ AtX ZnibnemWv Imcy§fpsS t]m¡v. AtX kabw A¨Sn am[ya§fpsS A´yIqZmibv¡v ImcWamb sSenhn-j\pw ]gp¯ ¹mhne hoWt¸mÄ Nncn¨ ]¨¹mhnebpsS KXnt]mse Ip¶nd¡w Bcw`n¨ncn¡ps¶¶mWv ]mÝmXy temI¯v \n¶pÅ dnt¸mÀ«v. A-[nIw XmaknbmsX AtX hgn \S¡m\mIpw \½psS am[ya §Ä¡pw hn[n F¶v kwibanÃ. a‑m[‑ya§Ä¡‑v s‑s‑[c‑ya‑pï‑mb‑nÃ. CX‑v a‑pl½Z‑me‑ns‑b kl‑mb‑n¡‑m\‑mt‑W‑m ad‑n¨‑mt‑W‑m F¶‑v h‑yàaÃ. t‑Icf‑w Iï G-äh‑p‑w he‑nb BÄs‑s‑Z-hh‑p‑w h¼³ h‑nZ‑y‑m-`‑y‑mk‑,N‑nI‑nÕ‑mh‑y-hk‑mb k‑m{‑a‑mP‑yDSab‑pa‑mb Aa‑rX‑m\µab‑ns‑¡X‑ns‑c Dï‑mb s‑R«‑n¸‑n¡‑p¶ Bt‑c‑m]W§Ä aeb‑mfa‑m[‑ya§f‑ps‑S H‑mc§f‑nt‑e¡‑v HX‑p§‑n bX‑mW‑v G-äh‑p‑w he‑nb DZ‑mlcW‑w. X‑m³ aT¯‑n\‑pÅ‑nÂ {‑]a‑pJ\‑mb k\‑y‑mk‑nb‑mÂ _e‑mÂ-k‑wK‑w s‑N¿s‑¸s‑«¶ k‑v-t‑^‑mS\‑mßIa‑mb s‑hf‑ns‑¸-S‑p¯Â \S¯‑nb Aa‑rX‑m\ µab‑nb‑ps‑S ]gb i‑nj‑yb‑p‑w h‑nt‑Zih\‑nXb‑pa‑mb s‑K-b‑nÂs‑{‑SU‑vs‑he‑ns‑\ I‑mW‑m\‑p‑w A`‑n-a‑pJ‑w \S¯‑m\‑p‑w Gs‑X‑mc‑p a‑m[‑ya¯‑n\‑p‑w X‑mÂ¸c‑y‑w Dï‑mt‑IïX‑ms‑W¦‑ne‑p‑w Hc‑p N‑m\Â a‑m{‑Xt‑a AX‑n\‑p X¿‑md‑mb‑pÅ‑q. a‑m{‑XaÃ Aa‑rX‑m\\µab‑ns‑¡X‑ns‑c h¶ Bt‑c‑m-]W§Ä {‑]k‑n²‑o Ic‑n¨ a‑m[‑ya§Äs‑¡X‑ns‑c h‑ncÂN‑qï‑m\‑mb‑nc‑p¶‑p \‑niÐX ]‑me‑n¨ aä‑v a‑m[‑ya§f‑ps‑S-b‑p‑w {‑ia‑w. s‑{‑SU‑vs‑he‑n s‑â CâÀh‑y‑qh‑nÂ k‑v{‑X‑o F¶ \‑neb‑v¡‑v AhÀ s‑hf‑ns‑¸S‑p ¯‑nb k‑z´‑w `‑oIc‑m\‑p`ht‑¯¡‑mt‑fs‑d N‑ne h‑nZ-K‑v[À NÀ¨ s‑Nb‑vXX‑v B Bt‑c‑m-]W§Ä Hc‑p k‑v{‑X‑o F¶ \‑neb‑v¡‑v Aa‑rX‑m\µab‑ns‑¡X‑ns‑c Dbc‑mt‑a‑m F¶ Xe X‑nc‑nª e‑n‑wKh‑o£Wa‑ms‑W¶X‑v I‑uX‑pIIca‑mW‑v. aTs‑¯b‑p‑w Aa‑rX‑m\µab‑ns‑bb‑p‑w h‑naÀi‑n¨ kµ‑o]‑m\µ K‑nc‑n F¶ Ad‑nbs‑¸S‑p¶ Bß‑ob t‑\X‑mh‑ns‑\ ]«‑m¸I Â aÀ±‑n¨X‑n\‑p t‑]‑me‑p‑w AÀl‑n¡‑p¶ CS‑w \ÂI‑m³ a‑m[‑ya§Ä X¿‑md‑mb‑nÃ. aT¯‑ns‑\X‑ns‑cb‑pÅ Bt‑c‑m]W §s‑f AhKW‑n¨ a‑pJ‑y-[‑mc‑m a‑m[‑ya§Ä At‑X kab‑w Ah ]‑pd¯‑p s‑I‑mï‑ph¶ N‑p-c‑p¡‑w a‑m[‑ya§Äs‑¡X‑ns‑c aTh‑p‑w A\‑pb‑mb‑n-If‑p‑w \S¯‑nb {‑]N‑mcW¯‑n\‑v {‑]‑ma‑pJ‑y‑w s‑I‑mS‑p¡‑m³ aS‑n¨‑ns‑Ã-¶X‑p‑w hÃ‑m¯ `b¸‑mS‑v Dï‑m¡‑p¶X‑mW‑v. s‑F.Fk‑v.BÀ.H. N‑mct‑¡k‑v t‑]‑ms‑e aeb‑mf a‑m[‑yaNc‑n{‑X¯‑ns‑e as‑ä‑mc‑p eÖ‑mIca‑mb A[‑y‑mba‑mb‑n Aht‑ij‑n¡‑p‑w C‑u k‑w`h‑w. s‑]b‑vU‑v \‑y‑qk‑v F¶ hÀ¯a‑m-\I‑me {‑]X‑n`‑mks‑¯ t‑]‑ms‑e a‑m[‑ya-§f‑p‑w a‑m[‑ya{‑]hÀ¯-Ic‑p‑w Ahc‑ps‑S k‑wLS\-If‑p‑w Hs‑¡ \‑ni‑nXa‑mb Bß]c‑nt‑i‑m[\b‑v¡‑v h‑njba‑mt‑¡ïX‑mW‑o h‑njb‑w. C´‑y‑mS‑pt‑U At‑k‑mk‑nt‑bä‑v FU‑näd‑mW‑v t‑eJI³. teJIsâ Cþsabvð: mgrkrishnan@gmail.com

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Miles Corwin

The Hack The journalistic education of Gabriel García Márquez

n 1955, eight crew members of a Colombian naval destroyer in the Caribbean were swept overboard by a giant wave. Luis Alejandro Velasco, a sailor who spent ten days on a life raft without food or water, was the only survivor. The editor of the Colombian newspaper El Espectador assigned the story to a twenty-seven-year-old reporter who had been dabbling in fiction and had a reputation as a gifted feature writer: Gabriel García Márquez. The young journalist quickly uncovered a military scandal. As his fourteen-part series revealed, the sailors owed their deaths not to a storm, as Colombia’s military dictatorship had claimed, but to naval negligence. The decks of the Caldas had been stacked high with television sets, washing machines, and refrigerators purchased in the U.S. These appliances, which were being ferried to Colombia against military regulations, had caused the ship to list dangerously. And because the Caldas was so overloaded, it was unable to maneuver and rescue the sailors. In addition, the life rafts on board were too small and carried no supplies, and the Navy called off the search for survivors after only four days. By the time the series ended, El Espectador’s circulation had almost doubled. The public always likes an exposé, but what made the stories so popular was not simply the explosive revelations of military incompetence. García Márquez had managed to transform Velasco’s account into a narrative so dramatic and compelling that readers lined up in front of the newspaper’s offices, waiting to buy copies. After the series ran, the government denied that the destroyer had been loaded with contraband merchandise. García Márquez turned up the investigative heat: he tracked down crewmen who owned cameras and purchased their photographs from the voyage, in which the illicit cargo, with factory labels, could be easily seen. The series marked a turning point in García Márquez’s life and writing career. The government was so incensed that the newspaper’s editors, who feared for the young reporter’s safety, sent him to

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Paris as its foreign correspondent. A few months later the government shut El Espectador down. The disappearance of his meal ticket forced García Márquez into the role of an itinerant journalist who sold freelance stories to pay the bills—and, crucially, continued to write fiction. The relatively spare prose of the Velasco series bears little resemblance to the poetic, multilayered, sometimes hallucinatory language that would mark García Márquez’s maturity as a novelist. Still, the articles—which were published in book form as The Story of A Shipwrecked Sailor in 1970, and translated into English sixteen years later—represent a milestone in his literary evolution. “This is where his gifted storytelling emerges,” says Raymond Williams, a professor of Latin American literature at the University of California, Riverside, who has written two books about the author. Prior to the series, he suggests, García Márquez had been

(11) writing somewhat amateurish short stories. Now, says Williams, he was rising to the challenge of constructing a lengthy narrative: “The ability he has to maintain a level of suspense throughout is something that later became a powerful element of his novels.” In fact, it was the reporter’s capacity to anatomize human behavior—rather than simply pass along the facts—that first drew García Márquez to the newsroom. He was a young law student with little interest in journalism when an acquaintance named Elvira Mendoza, who edited the women’s section of a Bogotá newspaper, was assigned to interview the Argentinean actress Berta Singerman. The diva was so arrogant and supercilious that she refused to answer any questions. Finally, her husband intervened and salvaged the interview. For García Márquez, this was a revelation about the possibilities of journalism. As he wrote in his autobiography, Living to Tell the Tale, which appeared in English in 2003: Elvira did not write the dialogue she had foreseen, based on the diva’s responses, but instead wrote an article about her difficulties with Berta Singerman. She took advantage of the providential intervention of the husband and turned him into the real protagonist of the meeting . . . . The sangfroid and ingenuity with which Elvira . . . used Singerman’s foolishness to reveal her true personality set me to thinking for the first time about the possibilities of journalism, not as a primary source of information but as much more: a literary genre. Before many years passed I would prove this in my own flesh, until I came to believe, as I believe today more than ever, that the novel and journalism are children of the same mother . . . . Elvira’s article made me aware of the reporter I carried sleeping in my heart and I resolved to wake him. I began to read newspapers in a different way. García Márquez ended up leaving law school and working for a series of Colombian newspapers. He spent most of his early career writing movie reviews, human-interest stories, and a daily, unsigned column he shared with other reporters that resembled The New Yorker’s “Talk of the Town”—a common feature of South American newspapers. Yet he aspired to cover more substantive issues, including politics and government corruption, and to pursue investigative projects. When he was first hired at El Espectador, García Márquez hoped to impress an editor by the name of Jose Salgar. “It seems to me that Salgar had his eye on me to be a reporter,” he later recounted in his autobiography, “while the others had relegated me to films, editorials, and cultural matters because I had always been designated a short-story writer. But my dream was to be a reporter . . . and I knew that Salgar was the best teacher.” The editor taught him to how to communicate his ideas clearly and pare

down his florid prose. Every time Salgar read one of García Márquez’s stories, he made “the strenuous gesture of forcing a cork out of a bottle and said, ‘Wring the neck of the swan.’ ” Soon, García Márquez was assigned the kinds of projects he had dreamed of pursuing. He wrote numerous in-depth stories, including pieces about the corruption surrounding the construction of a port on the Caribbean coast, the neglect of war veterans by the government, and landslides that killed dozens of people in a slum neighborhood. He specialized in what Latin American newspapers called the refrito (“refried”): a detailed reconstruction of a dramatic news event, published weeks or

At first, though, García Márquez declined the assignment. He believed the story was not only a “dead fish,” as he later wrote, but “a rotten one”—which is to say, both dated and dubious. Salgar persisted. “I informed him,” García Márquez recounts, “that I would write the article out of obedience as his employee but would not put my name to it. Without having thought about it first, this was a fortuitous but on-target determination regarding the story, for it obliged me to tell it in the first-person voice of the protagonist.” months later with élan and great narrative skill. And then something new landed on his desk: the Velasco series. After Luis Alejandro Velasco washed ashore, he was lionized by the press, decorated by the Colombian president, and became a national hero. García Márquez thought it was absurd the way the government held up Velasco as an example of patriotic morality. What’s more, he believed the sailor had sold out in a most unseemly manner— advertising the brand of watch he wore at sea (because it had not stopped) and the shoes on his feet (because they were too sturdy for him to tear apart and eat during his ordeal). A month after his rescue, Velasco walked into El Espectador’s newsroom and offered the exclusive rights to his story. He had already told his tale to innumerable reporters as well as government officials, and the staff doubted he had anything new to add to the record. “We sent him away,” García Márquez recalls in his autobiography. “But on a hunch, [Salgar] caught up with him on the stairway, accepted the deal, and placed him in my hands. It was as if he had given me a time bomb.” At first, though, García Márquez declined the assignment. He believed the story was not only a “dead fish,” as he later wrote, but “a rotten one”—which is to say, both dated and dubious. sabv 2014

(12) Salgar persisted. “I informed him,” García Márquez recounts, “that I would write the article out of obedience as his employee but would not put my name to it. Without having thought about it first, this was a fortuitous but on-target determination regarding the story, for it obliged me to tell it in the first-person voice of the protagonist.” García Márquez proved the newspaper adage that there can’t be great writing without great reporting. Over the course of twenty consecutive days, he interviewed Velasco for six hours each day. To make sure his subject was telling the truth, he frequently interjected trick questions, hoping to expose any contradictions in Velasco’s tale. “I

journalist will decide to use later on, that he will interpret and will choose to present in his own way. In this sense it is possible to interview someone in the same way that you write a novel or poetry. After 120 hours, García Márquez had a detailed, comprehensive account of Velasco’s ordeal. The challenge was how to involve the reader in a saga that featured a single character who was alone for ten days, floating aimlessly in a small raft. The answer was a steady heightening of dramatic tension. In the first few pages of the book, he notes that before the destroyer shipped out of Mobile, Alabama, Velasco and some of his shipmates

Gabriel García Márquez in the offices of Prensa Latina, Bogota, 1959 Photo: Hernán Díaz.

sincerely believe that interviewing is a kind of fictional genre and that it must be regarded in this light,” García Márquez wrote after his interviews with the sailor. He added: The majority of journalists let the tape recorder do the work, and they think that they are respecting the wishes of the person they are interviewing by retranscribing word for word what he says. They do not realize that this work method is really quite disrespectful: whenever someone speaks, he hesitates, goes off on tangents, does not finish his sentences, and he makes trifling remarks. For me the tape recorder must only be used to record material that the sabv 2014

watched The Caine Mutiny, foreshadowing the disaster to come. The best part of the movie, Velasco tells García Márquez, was the storm. And the sheer realism of the sequence inevitably made some of the crew uneasy: “I don’t mean to say that from that moment I began to anticipate the catastrophe,” Velasco says, “but I had never been so apprehensive before a voyage.” Not overly subtle, perhaps, but certainly effective. García Márquez concludes each section with a Dickensian cliffhanger. He ends chapter two, for example, with a dramatic description that compels the reader onward: I started to raise my arm to look at my watch,

(13) but at that moment I couldn’t see my arm, or my watch either. I didn’t see the wave . . . . I swam upward for one, two, three seconds. I tried to reach the surface. I needed air. I was suffocating . . . . A second later, about a hundred meters way, the ship surged up between the waves, gushing water from all sides like a submarine. It was only then that I realized I had fallen overboard. The next chapter begins with Velasco alone in the middle of the ocean. While García Márquez keeps his language relatively spare—he was writing for a newspaper, after all—there are frequent glimmers of the great descriptive powers that would later animate his novels. “Soon the sky turned red, and I continued to search the horizon,” recalls Velasco (or at least Velasco being channeled by the young reporter). “Then it turned a deep violet as I kept watching. To one side of the life raft, like a yellow diamond in a wine-colored sky, the first star appeared, immobile and perfect.” Throughout the sailor’s ordeal, García Márquez touches on themes that would consistently interest him for the rest of his career. In his early short stories, he had already explored the interior life of his characters, probing their dreams and sometimes surreal reveries. Yet these explorations felt anomalous—youthful stabs at insight without any real connection to the plot. In the Velasco series, he felt free to reconstruct his subject’s interior monologues, and for the first time, they were actually integral to the narrative. And when the sailor sees mirages, or converses with imaginary companions, or struggles with the distortions of time, these passages presage the author’s mature fiction. Here, as he did later on, García Márquez also affirms his belief that narrative plays a significant role in people’s lives. When Velasco finally washes ashore, after ten days in the open sea, a man wearing a straw hat comes upon him, with a donkey and an emaciated dog in tow. García Márquez relates the exchange between the two: “Help me,” I repeated desperately, worried that the man hadn’t understood me. “What happened to you?” he asked in a friendly tone of voice. When I heard him speak I realized that, more than thirst, hunger, and despair, what tormented me most was the need to tell someone what had happened to me. Countless literary critics have written about how Ernest Hemingway’s prose emerged from his journalism. Scholars have looked for a similar stylistic genealogy in the case of García Márquez. There are, of course, major differences between the two: García Márquez’s language is more complex and poetic. Yet even his inimitable passages of magic realism are influenced by his years as a reporter, says Robert Sims, a professor of Spanish literature at

Virginia Commonwealth University and the author of The First García Márquez: A Study of His Journalistic Writing from 1948 to 1955. The most surrealistic events are believable, Sims argues, because they are recounted in an objective, journalistic tone. And García Márquez first mastered this tone—in which magic always pays heed to realism— when he described Velasco’s ordeal. “It’s never melodramatic,” Sims says. “He never lets Velasco get overwrought or maudlin or sink into total despair. García Márquez always cuts it off before it reaches that point. The tone is even and neutral, just like in A Hundred Years of Solitude.” Nor did he ever forget the reporter’s obligation

Book: Gabo The Journalist

to hook readers with the very first sentence. Some of García Márquez’s early newspaper leads read like fiction, and point directly to his later work. For example, he wrote a series for El Espectador about a swampy, disease-ridden area of Colombia near the coast, and opened with a lead guaranteed to intrigue any reader: “Several years ago a ghostly, glassylooking man, with a big stomach as taut as a drum, came to a doctor’s office in the city. He said, ‘Doctor, I have come to have you remove a monkey that was put in my belly.’ ” The reverse is true as well. In his novels and short stories, he often opens with indelible lines about death, many of which read like dramatic newspaper sabv 2014

(14) even after he attained great success as a novelist, he never abandoned journalism. He used the money from his 1982 Nobel Prize to purchase Cambio, a failing weekly newsmagazine in Colombia. He established the Foundation for New Ibero-American Journalism, where veteran reporters give workshops for young Latin American journalists. And during the past few decades, while writing novels, he has kept reality at close quarters, publishing numerous essays, opinion pieces, articles, and a masterful book of reconstructive journalism, News of a Kidnapping. leads. Here he cuts to the chase and ensnares the reader with an elegant composure: Many years later, as he faced the firing squad, Colonel Aureliano Buendía was to remember that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice. (A Hundred Years of Solitude) On the day they were going to kill him, Santiago Nasar got up at five-thirty in the morning to wait for the boat the bishop was coming on. (Chronicle of a Death Foretold) Since it’s Sunday and it’s stopped raining, I think I’ll take a bouquet of roses to my grave. (Someone Has Been Disarranging These Roses) When Jose Montiel died, everyone felt avenged except his widow; but it took several hours for everyone to believe that he had indeed died. (Montiel’s Widow) Senator Onesimo Sanchez had six months and eleven days to go before his death when he found the woman of his life. (Death Constant Beyond Love) Hemingway and García Márquez also differed on how lasting ones’ journalistic apprenticeship should be. The former admitted that journalism was good training for a young novelist, but contended that it was important to get out in time, because newspapers could ruin a writer. García Márquez felt otherwise. “That supposedly bad influence that journalism has on literature isn’t so certain,” he has said. “First of all, because I don’t think anything destroys the writer, not even hunger. Secondly, because journalism helps you stay in touch with reality, which is essential for working in literature.” García Márquez put this belief into practice: even after he attained great success as a novelist, he never abandoned journalism. He used the money from his 1982 Nobel Prize to purchase Cambio, a failing weekly newsmagazine in Colombia. He established the Foundation for New Ibero-American Journalism, where veteran reporters give workshops for young Latin American journalists. And during sabv 2014

the past few decades, while writing novels, he has kept reality at close quarters, publishing numerous essays, opinion pieces, articles, and a masterful book of reconstructive journalism, News of a Kidnapping. In the latter, he chronicled the abduction of ten prominent Colombians by Pablo Escobar, the head of the Medellin drug cartel, and his painstaking account of their eight-month ordeal might strike some readers as a protracted ensemble version of The Story of a Shipwrecked Sailor. In any case, his breakthrough series went on to be one of his most popular books, selling about 10 million copies, the majority of them in the original Spanish. To his readers, this apprentice work, with its early and exquisite balance of magic and realism, fit very comfortably into the author’s canon. The fact that it was told in the first person may have actually made it feel more literary rather than less—a feat of modernist ventriloquism. As for García Márquez himself, he had mixed feelings about the transformation of his newspaper series into a bona fide work of art—or at least a hardcover book. And in a new introduction he wrote, he seemed to betray some nostalgia for the days when he was simply a semi-anonymous reporter rather than an international brand name. “I have not reread this story in fifteen years,” he wrote. “It seems worthy of publication, but I have never quite understood the usefulness of publishing it. I find it depressing that the publishers are not so much interested in the merit of the story as in the name of the author, which, much to my sorrow, is also that of a fashionable writer. If it is now published in the form of a book, that is because I agreed without thinking about it very much, and I am not a man to go back on his word.” Miles Corwin , a former reporter for the Los Angeles Times, teaches literary journalism at the University of California, Irvine. Courtesy: Columbia Journalism Review

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s‑â {‑K‑ma-¯‑nÂ hÀj-§Ä¡‑p a‑p¼‑v Hc‑p I‑mc-W-hÀ t‑c‑mKi-¿-b‑nÂ I‑nS-¡‑p-t‑¼‑mÄ aI-s‑fb‑p‑w Dä-_-Ô‑p-¡-s‑fb‑p‑w h‑nf‑n¨‑v N‑pä‑p‑w \‑nÀ¯‑n Xs‑â A´‑y‑m-`‑n-e‑m-j-§Ä Hs‑¶‑m-¶‑mb‑n h‑nh-c‑n-¡‑p-I-b‑m-b‑nc‑p¶‑p. AX‑nÂ Gäh‑p‑w HS‑p-h‑n-es‑¯ B{‑Kl‑w ac‑n-¡‑p-t‑¼‑mÄ Xs‑â a‑rX-ic‑o-c-t‑¯‑m-s‑S‑m¸‑w A¶s‑¯ t‑Ic-f-I‑ua‑pZ‑n ]{‑X‑w s‑\©¯‑p h¨‑n-c‑n-¡W‑w F¶‑m-b‑n-c‑p¶‑p. t‑I«‑p \‑n¶-hÀ XeI‑p-e‑p¡‑n k½-X‑n¨‑p. A§‑v Ct‑¸‑ms‑g‑m¶‑p‑w ac‑n-¡‑n-s‑Ã¶‑v Bi‑z-k‑n¸‑n-¡‑m³ AhÀ {‑ia‑n-s‑¨-¦‑ne‑p‑w At‑±-l-¯‑ns‑â B A´‑y‑m-`‑n-e‑m-j¯‑nÂ {‑]t‑X‑y-I‑n¨‑v s‑s‑hN‑n-{‑X‑y-s‑a‑m¶‑p‑w BÀ¡‑p‑w t‑X‑m¶‑n-b‑nÃ. I‑mcW‑w t‑Ic-f-I‑u-a‑p-Z‑n-b‑ps‑S \‑nX‑y-h‑m-b-\-¡‑mc\‑p‑w ]{‑X‑m-[‑n-]À s‑I. k‑pI‑p-a‑m-cs‑â Bc‑m-[-I\‑p‑w Bb‑n-c‑p¶‑p I‑mc-W-hÀ. CX‑p-t‑]‑ms‑e P‑oh‑n-X-¯‑ns‑â Ah-k‑m\ b‑m{‑X-b‑ne‑p‑w t‑Ic-f-I‑u-a‑p-Z‑ns‑b s‑\ t‑©‑mS‑v t‑NÀ¯‑p ]‑nS‑n-¡‑m³ B{‑K-l‑n¨ At‑\I‑w k‑m[‑m-c-W-¡‑mÀ s‑X¡³ t‑Ic-f-¯‑ns‑â GX‑p t‑I‑mW‑ne‑p‑w Hc‑p I‑me¯‑v Dï‑m-b‑n-c‑p¶‑p. AhÀ¡‑v t‑Ic-f-I‑u-a‑pZ‑n hÀ¯-a‑m-\-I‑me h‑nt‑i-j-§Ä h‑o«‑n-s‑e-¯‑n-¡‑p¶ Hc‑p k‑m[‑m-cW Z‑n\-]-{‑X-a‑m-b‑n-c‑p-¶‑nÃ. P‑oh‑nX-¯‑nÂ \‑n¶‑v Hc‑p \‑na‑nj‑w t‑]‑me‑p‑w ASÀ¯‑n-a‑m-ä‑m-\‑m-h‑m¯ Hc‑p h‑nI‑m-c-a‑m-

b‑n-c‑p¶‑p. AX‑nÂ A¨-S‑n¨‑p I‑mW‑p-¶X‑p-a‑m-{‑Xt‑a AhÀ h‑ni‑z-k‑n-¨‑n-c‑p-¶‑pÅ‑q. t‑Ic-f-I‑u-a‑p-Z‑n-b‑nÂ I‑mW‑m-¯-XX‑v as‑ä-h‑ns‑S Iï‑me‑p‑w t‑I«‑me‑p‑w AhÀ A‑wK‑o-I-c‑n-¨‑nÃ. AÔ-a‑mb C‑u Bc‑m[\ ]{‑X‑m-[‑n-]À s‑I. k‑pI‑p-a‑m-c-\‑nÂ Hc‑p Xe-a‑pd AÀ¸‑n¨ AN-©-e-a‑mb h‑ni‑z‑m-k-¯‑ns‑â ]‑mc-a‑y-X-b‑m-b‑n-c‑p¶‑p. H‑mÀ^‑n-b‑q-k‑ns‑â ]‑m«‑p-t‑]‑ms‑e h‑mb\-¡‑ms‑c ]‑n¶‑ms‑e C§s‑\ I‑q«‑ns‑¡‑m-ï‑p-t‑]‑mb a‑m{‑´‑n-I-\‑mb Hc‑p ] {‑X‑m-[‑n-]c‑p‑w ]{‑Xh‑p‑w t‑Ic-f-¯‑nÂ t‑hs‑d-b‑nÃ. kJ‑m-¡Ä \½‑ps‑S \‑m«‑nÂ Hc‑p]‑mS‑v Ds‑ï-¦‑ne‑p‑w "kJ‑mh‑v‑' F¶‑p ]d-ª‑mÂ I½‑y‑q-W‑n-Ì‑p-I‑mÀ ]‑n. I‑rj‑vW-]‑n-Ås‑b a‑m{‑X‑w H‑mÀ¡‑p¶‑p. AX‑p-t‑]‑ms‑e ]{‑X‑m-[‑n-]-·‑mÀ At‑\I‑w t‑]À P‑oh‑n¨‑p ac‑n¨ t‑Ic-f-¯‑nÂ "] {‑X‑m-[‑n-]À‑' F¶ ]Z‑w-s‑I‑mï‑v h‑nh-£‑n¡‑p-Ib‑p‑w Ad‑n-b-s‑¸-S‑p-Ib‑p‑w s‑N¿‑p¶ GI h‑yà‑n-b‑mW‑v s‑I. k‑pI‑p-a‑m-c³. t‑Icf I‑ua‑p-Z‑ns‑b At‑±l‑w F¡‑meh‑p‑w ]{‑X‑m-[‑n-]-c‑ps‑S ]{‑X-a‑m¡‑n \‑ne-\‑n-d‑p¯‑n. AX‑v ae-b‑mf ]{‑X-{‑]hÀ¯\ Nc‑n-{‑X-¯‑nÂ t‑hï h‑n[‑w C\‑nb‑p‑w t‑cJ-s‑¸-S‑p-¯-s‑¸-«‑n-«‑n-Ã‑m¯ Hc‑p P‑oh‑nX kac‑w Bb‑n-c‑p¶‑p. t‑Ic-f-¯‑ns‑e FÃ‑m {‑]a‑pJ Z‑n\]-{‑X-§-f‑ps‑S hfÀ¨-b‑ps‑S ]‑n¶‑ne‑p‑w Hc‑p ka‑p-Z‑m-b-i-à‑n-b‑p-s‑ï¶‑v ]

d-b‑m-h‑p-¶-X‑mW‑v. c‑mj‑v{‑S‑ob ]‑mÀ«‑n-If‑ps‑S a‑pJ-]-{‑X-§Ä¡‑v ]‑mÀ«‑n AW‑nI-f‑ps‑S ]‑n³_e‑w DÅ-X‑p-t‑]‑ms‑e. t‑Ic-f-I‑u-a‑pZ‑n 1911Â Hc‑p h‑mc‑n-I-b‑mb‑n Bc‑w-`‑n-¨X‑p Xs‑¶ "ka‑p-Z‑mb‑w hI Hc‑p ]{‑X‑w‑' F¶ {‑]J‑y‑m-]-\-t‑¯‑ms‑S-b‑mW‑v. F¶‑mÂ Hc‑p-I‑m-e¯‑p‑w t‑Ic-f-I‑u-a‑pZ‑n Hc‑p hÀ¤‑ob Z‑n\-]{‑X-a‑m-I‑m-X‑n-c‑n-¡‑m³ ]{‑X‑m-[‑n-]À s‑I. k‑pI‑p-a‑m-c³ {‑i²‑n-¨‑p-t‑]‑m¶‑p. Hc‑p ] {‑X-¯‑ns‑â he‑n¸‑w At‑\I‑w {‑]X‑n-IÄ h‑nä-g‑nª‑v t‑\S‑p¶ h³ {‑]N‑m-c-¯‑neÃ; B ]{‑X‑w h‑mb-\-¡‑mÀ¡‑v \ ÂI‑p¶ Ad‑n-h‑n-t‑âb‑p‑w kt‑µ-i-§f‑p-t‑Sb‑p‑w al-X‑z-¯‑n-e‑m-s‑W¶‑v s‑I. k‑pI‑p-a‑m-c³ h‑ni‑z-k‑n¨‑p. t‑Ic-f-I‑ua‑p-Z‑ns‑b A\‑p-{‑Ia‑w A§s‑\ N‑n«-s‑¸S‑p-¯‑m-\‑mW‑v At‑±l‑w Cj‑vS-s‑¸-«X‑v. c‑mj‑v{‑S‑ob k‑ma‑q-l‑nI aW‑vU-e-§-f‑nÂ t‑I‑mf‑n-f¡‑w Dï‑m-I‑p-t‑¼‑mÄ ]{‑X‑m[‑n-]À Z‑o£‑n¨ H‑uN‑n-X‑y-§Ä D¶-Xi‑n-c-k‑p-IÄ At‑±-l-¯‑n\‑p a‑p¶‑nÂ \a‑n-¡‑m³ CS-b‑m-¡‑n-b‑n-«‑pï‑v. a‑m{‑XaÃ‑, {‑]i-k‑vX-c‑mb `c-W-IÀ¯‑m-¡Ä t‑]‑me‑p‑w {‑]i‑v\ ]c‑n-l‑m-c-§Ä¡‑mb‑n s‑I. k‑pI‑p-a‑m-cs‑â D]-t‑Zi‑w t‑XS‑nb‑n-c‑p¶‑p. t‑Ic-f-¯‑ns‑â `c-W-N-c‑n-{‑X¯‑nÂ A§s‑\ At‑±l‑w s‑Ne‑p-¯‑nb h‑nZ‑q-c-a‑mb k‑z‑m[‑o\‑w hfs‑c he‑pX‑mW‑v. F³.P‑n.H. A²‑y‑m-]I ]W‑na‑p-S¡‑v A\‑n-Ý‑n-X-a‑mb‑n \‑of‑p-t‑¼‑mg‑p‑w s‑s‑hZ‑y‑pX‑n t‑_‑mÀU‑ne‑p‑w s‑I.Fk‑v. BÀ.S‑n.k‑nb‑ne‑p‑w P‑oh-\-¡‑m-c‑ps‑S ] W‑n-a‑p-S¡‑v P\-P‑o-h‑nX‑w X‑md‑p-a‑m-d‑m-¡‑pt‑¼‑mg‑p‑w `c-W-IÀ¯‑m-¡Ä ]{‑X‑m-[‑n-] À k‑pI‑p-a‑m-cs‑â a[‑y-Ø-{‑ia‑w t‑XS‑nsabv 2014

(16) b‑n-c‑p-¶X‑v At‑±-l-¯‑n\‑v ka‑q-l-¯‑nÂ Dï‑m-b‑n-c‑p¶ \‑nj‑v]-£h‑p‑w \‑oX‑n]‑qÀh-I-h‑p-a‑mb k‑z‑m[‑o\‑w s‑I‑mï‑mW‑v. Z‑nh‑m³ `c-W-I‑m-e¯‑p‑w P\‑m-b¯ `c-W-I‑m-e¯‑p‑w Xs‑â ]{‑X-¯‑n-e‑qs‑Sb‑p‑w AÃ‑m-s‑Xb‑p‑w At‑±l‑w a‑pt‑¶‑m«‑p-h¨ h‑ne-s‑¸« \‑nÀt‑±-i-§f‑p‑w A`‑n{‑]‑m-b-§f‑p‑w a‑m\‑n-¡-s‑¸«‑p. s‑]‑mX‑p \·b‑v¡‑v D]-I-c‑n-¨‑n-«‑pÅ A¯c‑w A`‑n-{‑]‑m-b-§Ä t‑Ic-f-¯‑ns‑e ]e Xe-a‑p-d-I-f‑ps‑S P‑oh‑nX‑w a‑mä‑n-a-d‑n-¨‑n-c‑n¡‑p¶‑p. `c-W-I‑q-S-§Ä¡‑v I‑me‑n-S-d‑pt‑¼‑mg‑p‑w hg‑n s‑Xä‑n k©-c‑n-¡‑p-t‑¼‑mg‑p‑w ]{‑X‑m-[‑n-]À k‑pI‑p-a‑m-c³ IÀ¡-i-a‑mb‑n CS-s‑]-S‑p-a‑m-b‑n-c‑p¶‑p. h‑mÀ¯-If‑p‑w a‑pJ-{‑]-k‑w-K-§f‑p‑w hg‑n a‑m{‑X-aÃ‑, t‑hï‑n-h-¶‑mÂ s‑]‑mX‑p-t‑h-Z‑n-b‑nÂ {‑] k‑w-K‑n¨‑p‑w At‑±l‑w ka‑q-l-¯‑nÂ t‑I‑mf‑n-f¡‑w k‑rj‑vS‑n¨‑p. ]«‑w-X‑m-W‑p-

{‑]k‑w-K-¯‑ns‑â 56þ‑m‑w h‑mÀj‑n-I-a‑m-W‑ns‑¡‑mÃ‑w. k‑wØ‑m-\s‑¯ BZ‑ys‑¯ C.F‑w.Fk‑v a{‑´‑n-k` Dt‑Z‑y‑mK k‑whc-W-¯‑n-s‑\-X‑ns‑c X‑nc‑n-ª-t‑¸‑mÄ ] {‑X‑m-[‑n-]À h‑m¡‑p-IÄs‑I‑mï‑v X‑oÀ¯ b‑p²-a‑pJ‑w ae-b‑mf ]{‑X-{‑]-hÀ¯\ Nc‑n-{‑X-¯‑nÂ AX‑y-]‑qÀh k‑w`-ha‑mW‑v. 1958 s‑k]‑vX‑w-_-d‑ns‑e K‑pc‑p-t‑Zh ka‑m[‑n Z‑n\-¯‑nÂ I‑pf-¯‑qÀ {‑i‑o\‑mc‑m-bW h‑mb-\-i‑m-e-b‑nÂ A¶s‑¯ a‑pJ‑y-a{‑´‑n C.F‑w.Fk‑v. kt‑½-f\ DZ‑vL‑m-S-I-\‑mb‑n t‑hZ‑n-b‑n-e‑n-c‑ns‑¡ s‑I. k‑pI‑p-a‑m-c³ \S-¯‑nb A²‑y£ {‑] k‑w-K-a‑mW‑v ]{‑X‑m-[‑n-]-c‑ps‑S I‑pf-¯‑qÀ {‑]k‑w-K-s‑a¶ \‑ne-b‑nÂ Ad‑n-b-s‑¸S‑p-¶X‑v. B[‑n-I‑m-c‑n-I-Xb‑v¡‑p t‑hï‑n \‑oï {‑]k‑wK‑w At‑±l‑w Fg‑pX‑n h‑mb‑n-¡‑p-I-b‑m-b‑n-c‑p¶‑p. I½‑y‑q-W‑nÌ‑v `c-W-¯‑n³ I‑og‑nÂ hÀ¤‑ob \‑ne-

tIc-f-¯nse FÃm {]apJ Zn\-]-{X-§-fpsS hfÀ¨-bpsS ]n¶nepw Hcp kap-Zm-b-i-àn-bp-sï¶v ]d-bm-hp-¶-XmWv. cmjv{Sob ]mÀ«nI-fpsS apJ-]-{X-§Ä¡v ]mÀ«n AWn-I-fpsS ]n³_ew DÅ-Xpt]mse. tIc-f-Iu-apZn 1911Â Hcp hmcn-I-bmbn Bcw-`n-¨Xp Xs¶ "kap-Zmbw hI Hcp ]{Xw' F¶ {]Jym-]-\-t¯m-sS-bmWv. F¶mÂ Hcp-Im-e¯pw tIc-f-Iu-apZn Hcp hÀ¤ob Zn\-]-{X-am-ImXn-cn-¡m³ ]{Xm-[n-]À sI. kpIp-am-c³ {i²n-¨p-t]m¶p. Hcp ]{X-¯nsâ hen¸w At\Iw {]Xn-IÄ hnä-gnªv t\Sp¶ h³ {]Nm-c-¯n-eÃ; B ]{Xw hmb-\-¡mÀ¡v \ÂIp¶ Adn-hn-tâbpw ktµ-i-§-fp-tSbpw al-Xz-¯n-em-sW¶v sI. kpIp-am-c³ hnizkn¨p. tIc-f-Iu-ap-Znsb A\p-{Iaw A§s\ Nn«-s¸-Sp-¯m-\mWv At±lw CjvS-s¸-«Xv. cmjv{Sob kmaq-lnI aWvU-e-§-fnÂ tImfn-f¡w Dïm-Ip-t¼mÄ ]{Xm-[n-]À Zo£n¨ HuNn-Xy-§Ä D¶-X-in-c-kp-IÄ At±-l-¯n\p ap¶nÂ \an-¡m³ CS-bm-¡n-bn«pïv. am{X-aÃ, {]i-kvX-cmb `c-W-IÀ¯m-¡Ä t]mepw {]iv\ ]cn-lm-c-§Ä¡mbn sI. kpIp-am-csâ D]-tZiw tXSn-bn-cp¶p. tIc-f-¯nsâ `c-W-N-cn-{X-¯nÂ A§s\ At±lw sNep-¯nb hnZq-c-amb kzm[o\w hfsc hep-XmWv. ]‑n-Åb‑p‑w a¶¯‑p ]ß-\‑m-`\‑p‑w C.F‑w.Fk‑v. \¼‑q-X‑n-c‑n-¸‑mS‑p‑w k‑n. AN‑y‑p-X-t‑a-t‑\‑m\‑p‑w AS¡‑w {‑]KÂ`a-X‑n-I-f‑mb t‑\X‑m-¡Ä ]{‑X‑m-[‑n-]c‑ps‑S A`‑n-{‑]‑mb‑w a‑m\‑n¨‑v X§-f‑ps‑S \‑ne-]‑m-S‑p-IÄ a‑mä‑n-s‑b-S‑p-¯‑n-«‑pï‑v. AX‑nÂ Gäh‑p‑w {‑][‑m-\-s‑¸« H¶‑mW‑v ]‑n¶‑m¡þ\‑y‑q\-]£ h‑n`‑m-K-§-f‑ps‑S k‑wh-cW‑w. Ac \‑qä‑m-ï‑n-t‑e-s‑d-b‑mb‑n k‑wØ‑m-\s‑¯ _l‑p-`‑q-c‑n-]£‑w hc‑p¶ ]‑n¶‑m¡ h‑n`‑m-Kh‑p‑w a‑pÉ‑o‑w \‑y‑q\-]-£h‑p‑w Ahi s‑s‑{‑Ik‑vX-hc‑p‑w h‑nZ‑y‑m-`‑y‑mk c‑wK¯‑p‑w kÀ¡‑mÀ Dt‑Z‑y‑mK-¯‑ne‑p‑w A\‑p-`-h‑n-¡‑p¶ k‑wh-cW‑m-\‑p-I‑q-e‑y-¯‑n\‑v Gäh‑p‑w I‑qS‑p-XÂ IS-s‑¸-«‑n-c‑n-¡‑p-¶X‑v s‑I. k‑pI‑p-a‑m-ct‑\‑mS‑p‑w t‑Ic-f-I‑u-a‑p-Z‑n-t‑b‑m-S‑p-a‑mW‑v. ] {‑X‑m-[‑n-]-c‑ps‑S {‑]k‑n-²-a‑mb I‑pf-¯‑qÀ sabv 2014

]‑m-S‑p-If‑p‑w X‑oc‑p-a‑m-\-§f‑p‑w h‑nj kÀ¸-s‑¯-t‑¸‑ms‑e s‑k{‑I-t‑«-d‑n-b-ä‑ns‑â AI-¯-f-§-f‑nÂ k‑mh-I‑mi‑w Cg-ª‑ph-c‑p-¶X‑v F§-s‑\-b‑m-s‑W¶‑v t‑Ic-fI‑u-a‑pZ‑n k‑q£‑va-Z‑r-j‑vS‑n-s‑I‑mï‑p‑w ] {‑X‑m-[‑n-]-c‑ps‑S I‑qÀ½-_‑p-²‑n-s‑I‑mï‑p‑w a\-Ê‑n-e‑m¡‑n. a‑pJ‑y-a{‑´‑n A²‑y-£\‑mb‑n kÀ¡‑mÀ Hc‑p `c-W-]-c‑n-j‑vI‑mc I½‑n-ä‑n¡‑p c‑q]‑w \ÂI‑n-b‑n-c‑p¶‑p. Gg‑wK I½‑n-ä‑n-b‑ps‑S ]T\ i‑p]‑mÀi-If‑ns‑e {‑][‑m-\-s‑¸« \‑nÀt‑±i‑w DbÀ¶ i¼-f-a‑pÅ a‑p´‑nb kÀ¡‑mÀ Dt‑Z‑y‑m-K§-f‑nÂ k‑ma‑p-Z‑m-b‑nI k‑wh-cW‑w ]‑mS‑ns‑Ã-¶‑m-b‑n-c‑p¶‑p. a‑m{‑X-aÃ‑, k‑wh-cW k{‑¼-Z‑mb‑w \‑ne-\‑n-¶‑mÂ `c-W-¯‑ns‑â I‑mc‑y-£-aX XI-c‑p-Ib‑p‑w P\-§-f‑nÂ P‑mX‑n N‑n´ \‑ne-\‑nÂ¡‑p-Ib‑p‑w s‑N¿‑ps‑a¶‑v d‑nt‑^‑m‑wk‑v I½‑nä‑n A`‑n-{‑]‑m-b-

s‑¸«‑p. I½‑n-ä‑n-b‑ns‑e Gg‑v A‑wK-§-f‑ps‑Sb‑p‑w t‑]s‑c-S‑p¯‑p ]d-ª‑p-s‑I‑mï‑v C§-s‑\‑mc‑p d‑nt‑¸‑mÀ«‑ns‑â AS‑n-b‑nÂ BZ‑ys‑¯ H¸‑n-«X‑v I½‑y‑q-W‑nÌ‑v a{‑´‑n-k-`s‑b \b‑n-¡‑p¶ \¼‑q-X‑n-c‑n¸‑m-S‑m-s‑W¶‑v h‑ni‑z-k‑n-¡‑m³t‑]‑me‑p‑w X\‑n-¡‑m-h‑p-¶‑n-s‑Ã¶‑v ]{‑X‑m-[‑n-] À ]dª‑p. _l‑p-`‑q-c‑n-]£‑w hc‑p¶ ]‑n¶‑m¡ Zf‑nX‑v h‑n`‑m-K-§-f‑nÂ \‑n¶‑v Hc‑p {‑]X‑n-\‑n-[‑n-t‑]‑me‑p‑w d‑nt‑^‑m‑wk‑v I½‑n-ä‑n-b‑nÂ DÄs‑¸-«‑n-«‑nÃ. AX‑n-\‑mÂ GI-I-W‑vT-a‑m-b‑mW‑v I½‑n-ä‑n-b‑ps‑S i‑p]‑mÀi-IÄ kÀ¡‑m-c‑n\‑p a‑p¶‑ns‑e-¯‑n-b‑n-«‑p-ÅX‑v. h‑nh‑n[ ka‑p-Z‑m-b§Ä¡‑p‑w {‑]t‑Z-i-§Ä¡‑p‑w {‑]‑mX‑n\‑n[‑y‑w \ÂI‑n BZ‑ys‑¯ a{‑´‑n-k` c‑q]‑o-I-c‑n¨ C.F‑w.Fk‑v Xs‑â a{‑´‑na‑m-c‑mb N‑m¯³ a‑mÌÀ‑, t‑K‑m]‑m-e³‑, K‑uc‑n-b½‑, S‑n.F. aP‑oZ‑v X‑pS-§‑n-b-hc‑ps‑S {‑]hÀ¯-\-§-f‑nÂ I‑mc‑y-£aX‑m c‑ml‑nX‑y‑w Bt‑c‑m-]‑n-¡‑p-¶‑n-s‑Ã¶‑v a‑m{‑X-aÃ‑, Ah-c‑pÄs‑¸« a{‑´‑n-k-`-b‑ps‑S FÃ‑m {‑]hÀ¯-\-§-f‑ne‑p‑w A`‑n-a‑m-\‑n¡‑p-Ib‑p‑w s‑N¿‑p¶‑p. B \‑neb‑v¡‑v d‑nt‑^‑m‑wk‑v I½‑nä‑n d‑nt‑¸‑mÀ«‑n\‑v a{‑´‑nk-`-b‑ps‑S A\‑p-aX‑n t‑XS‑n I‑y‑m_‑n-\ä‑v a‑oä‑n‑w-K‑nÂ hb‑v¡‑p-t‑¼‑mÄ t‑aÂ]-dª ]‑n¶‑m¡ ka‑p-Z‑m-b‑m‑w-K-§-f‑mb a{‑´‑na‑m-c‑ps‑S Bß‑m-`‑n-a‑m\‑w XI-c‑p-Ib‑p‑w AhÀ Xe X‑mg‑v¯‑p-Ib‑p‑w s‑Nt‑¿-ï‑nhc‑p‑w. C{‑Xb‑p‑w ]d-ª‑n«‑v a‑pJ‑y-a{‑´‑n C.F‑w.FÊ‑ns‑â {‑i² 18 hÀj‑w ]‑n¶‑nt‑e¡‑v ]{‑X‑m-[‑n-]À £W‑n¨‑p. 1940Â C.F‑w.Fk‑v. I®‑q-c‑ns‑e s‑Nd‑p-a‑m-h‑ne‑mb‑n {‑K‑ma-¯‑nÂ Hf‑n-h‑nÂ ]‑mÀ¯ I‑pS‑n-e‑n-t‑e¡‑v. s‑N¯‑p-s‑X‑m-g‑n-e‑mf‑n t‑]‑m¡s‑â I‑pS‑n-e‑nÂ cï‑p-s‑I‑mÃ‑w t‑]‑m¡s‑â `‑mc‑y h¨‑p-h‑n-f-¼‑nb Bl‑mc‑w `£‑n¨‑v ]‑pd‑w-t‑e‑m-I-a-d‑nb‑ms‑X C.-F‑w.-F-k‑v. Ah‑ns‑S Ig‑n-ª‑p. A¶‑v C.F‑w.Fk‑ns‑\ s‑]‑me‑o-k‑n\‑v I‑m«‑n-s‑¡‑m-S‑p-¡‑p-¶-hÀ¡‑v Bb‑nc‑w {‑_‑n«‑oj‑v c‑q] ]‑mc‑n-t‑X‑m-j‑nI‑w {‑] J‑y‑m-]‑n-¨‑n-c‑p¶‑p. I‑m¡b‑p‑w I‑nf‑n-b‑p-a-d‑nb‑ms‑X Bb‑nc‑w c‑q]-b‑ps‑S {‑]t‑e‑m-`\‑w Ah-K-W‑n¨‑v X§-f‑ps‑S {‑]‑nb-k-J‑mh‑ns‑\ k‑wc-£‑n-¨-h-c‑mW‑v t‑]‑m¡³ I‑pS‑p‑w_‑w. Ah-c‑ps‑S A\-´-c-K‑m-a‑nIÄ kÀ¡‑mÀ kÀh‑o-k‑nÂ Dt‑Z‑y‑mK-Ø-c‑mb‑n h¶‑mÂ `c-W-¯‑ns‑â I‑mc‑y-£-aX XI-c‑p-s‑a¶‑v C.F‑w.Fk‑v aï-b‑n-e‑n-c‑n-¡‑p¶ I½‑n-ä‑n¡‑v F§s‑\ Fg‑p-X‑n-t‑NÀ¡‑m³ Ig‑nª‑p F¶‑v ] {‑X‑m-[‑n-]À AÛ‑pX‑w {‑]I-S‑n-¸‑n¨‑p. ]{‑X‑m-[‑n-]À Fg‑pX‑n h‑mb‑n¨ B {‑]k‑wK‑w At‑£‑m-`‑y-\‑mb‑n t‑I«‑n-c‑p¶ C.F‑w.Fk‑v. Hc-£c‑w t‑]‑me‑p‑w ad‑p-]-S‑nb‑mb‑n Dc‑n-b‑m-S‑ms‑X kt‑½-f\‑w DZ‑vL‑mS\‑w s‑Nb‑vX‑p Øe‑w h‑n«‑p. ka‑m[‑n Ah-[‑n-b‑m-b-X‑n-\‑mÂ t‑Ic-f-I‑u-a‑pZ‑n

(17) ]‑nt‑ä-Z‑n-hk‑w {‑]k‑n-²‑o-I-c‑n-¨‑nÃ. as‑ä‑mc‑p ]{‑X-¯‑ne‑p‑w I‑pf-¯‑qÀ {‑] k‑wK‑w d‑nt‑¸‑mÀ«‑v s‑N¿‑m\‑p‑w CS-b‑nÃ. a‑q¶‑m‑w Z‑nhk‑w ]{‑X‑m-[‑n-]-c‑ps‑S {‑] k‑wK‑w ]‑qÀ®-c‑q-]-¯‑nÂ t‑Ic-f-I‑ua‑pZ‑n t‑eJ-\-a‑mb‑n {‑]k‑n-²‑o-I-c‑n¨‑p. `c-W-]-c‑n-j‑vI‑mc I½‑nä‑n d‑nt‑¸‑mÀ«‑v kÀ¡‑mÀ ]‑ms‑S Dt‑]-£‑n-¡‑pI Xs‑¶ s‑Nb‑vX‑p. t‑Ic-f-¯‑ns‑e ]‑n¶‑m¡ P\ h‑n`‑m-K-§-f‑ps‑S Ah-I‑mi k‑wc-£-W¯‑ns‑â a‑mK‑v\-I‑mÀ« F¶‑v h‑nt‑i-j‑n¸‑n-¡-s‑¸-«‑n-«‑pÅ I‑pf-¯‑qÀ {‑]k‑wK‑w ]‑n¶‑oS‑v k‑wh-c-W-¯‑n\‑v `‑ojW‑n Dbc‑p-t‑¼‑m-s‑gÃ‑m‑w t‑Ic-f-I‑u-a‑pZ‑n ]‑p\‑x-{‑]k‑n-²‑o-I-c‑n-¨‑n-«‑pï‑v. C.F‑w.FÊ‑ns‑â DÅ‑nÂ C‑u k‑w`h‑w F¶‑p‑w \‑od‑n-I‑n-S-¶‑n-«‑p-ï‑mIW‑w. I‑mcW‑w k‑m¼-¯‑nI k‑whcW h‑mZ‑w D¶-b‑n¨‑v ]‑nÂ¡‑m-e¯‑v At‑±l‑w ]‑mÀ«‑n-b‑ps‑S a‑pJ-]-{‑X-¯‑nÂ t‑eJ-\-s‑a-g‑p-X‑n-b-t‑¸‑m-s‑gÃ‑m‑w "s‑I. k‑pI‑p-a‑m-cs‑â I‑p{‑]-k‑n-²-a‑mb I‑pf¯‑qÀ {‑]k‑wK‑w' F¶‑v \‑nµ‑m-k‑q-NI-a‑mb‑n ]c‑m-aÀi‑n-¡‑m³ ad-¶‑n-«‑nÃ. 1981 s‑k]‑vX‑w-_À 18\‑v ]{‑X‑m-[‑n-]À Cl-t‑e‑m-I-h‑mk‑w s‑hS‑nª t‑ijh‑p‑w C.F‑w.Fk‑v. I‑pf-¯‑qÀ {‑]k‑w-K-¯‑ns‑e

hc‑n-IÄ D²-c‑n¨‑v {‑I‑oa‑n-e-bÀ h‑yhØ-b‑v¡‑p-t‑hï‑n h‑mZ‑n¨‑v t‑eJ-\-§Ä Fg‑pX‑n. ]{‑X‑m-[‑n-]À ]‑n¶‑m¡ h‑n`‑m-K§-f‑p-s‑Sb‑p‑w Zf‑n-X-c‑p-s‑Sb‑p‑w Ah-i-P-\§-f‑p-s‑Sb‑p‑w h‑nZ‑y‑m-`‑y‑mk hfÀ¨b‑v¡‑p‑w k‑ma‑q-l‑nI ]‑pt‑c‑m-K-X‑n¡‑p‑w t‑hï‑n Xs‑â ]{‑X-¯‑ns‑e H‑mt‑c‑m NX‑p-c{‑i s‑kâ‑o-a‑o-äÀ Øeh‑p‑w k‑q£‑va-a‑mb‑n

h‑n\‑n-t‑b‑m-K‑n¨‑p. {‑i‑o\‑m-c‑m-bW K‑pc‑ph‑ns‑â kt‑µ-i-§-f‑ps‑S {‑]I‑m-i-¯‑nÂ P‑ze‑n-¸‑n-s‑¨-S‑p¯ kaX‑z t‑_‑m[¯‑nÂ Dd¨‑p \‑n¶‑p-s‑I‑m-ï‑mW‑v Xs‑â ]‑nX‑mh‑v k‑n.h‑n. I‑pª‑p-c‑m-a-\‑nÂ \‑n¶‑v s‑s‑Ia‑md‑n I‑n«‑nb t‑Ic-f-I‑u-a‑p-Z‑ns‑b s‑I. k‑pI‑p-a‑m-c³ ae-b‑m-f-¯‑ns‑e {‑] [‑m-\-s‑¸« Hc‑p Z‑n\-]-{‑X-a‑m¡‑n hfÀ¯‑nbX‑v.

]{‑X‑m-[‑n-]À s‑I. k‑pI‑p-a‑m-c-³ sabv 2014

(18)

tIcfIuapZn \qdmw ]nd¶mÄ ]Xn¸v

""A£u-ln-Wn-IÄ \nc-¶p-t]mepw. iqc-\mSv Ipª³]n-Å-sbt¸m-epÅ `mjm-]-WvUn-X-·mÀ¡p hmbn-¡m-\p-Å-XÃ ]{Xw. Npa«p-sXm-gn-em-fn-Ifpw SmIvkn ss{UhÀamcpw _mÀ_Àamcpw Iqen-¸Wn-¡mcpw DÄs¸« km[m-c-W-¡m-cpsS ]{X-am-WnXv. C§-s\mcp Xe-s¡«v \ÂIn-b-Xn-eqsS AXn-\n-S-bn-epÅ at\m-l-c-amb hnh-cW-§Ä hmbn-¡-s¸-SmsX t]mInsÃ. ]{X-s¯-¯s¶ \m«p-Im-cn Â \n¶v AI-änsÃ? Ipªv GXp kvIqfnem tPW-enkw ]Tn-¨ Xv...?'' adp-]Sn ]d-bm-\m-hm¯ tNmZy-§Ä¡p ap¶nÂ \n¶v c£s¸-Sm³ ]gpXp tXSn Im¯p-\n¶ teJ-I³ P\-Iob ]{X-{]-hÀ ¯-\-s¯-¡p-dn¨v Hcp kÀh-I-em-im-e-bnepw e`n-¡m¯ hen-sbmcp ]mTw B Kpcp-ap-J-¯p-\n¶v DÄs¡m-Åp-I-bm-bn-cp¶p. £oWnX-\mbn Xncn¨p \S-¡p-t¼mÄ ]{Xm-[n-]À ssIsIm«n Xncn¨p hnfn¨v i_vZw Xmgv¯n apJ-t¯¡p Ip\nªp ]-dªp, ""B dnt¸mÀ«v at\m-l-c-amWv.'' sabv 2014

X‑ob‑nÂ I‑pc‑p-¯-X‑mW‑v t‑Icf-I‑u-a‑p-Z‑n-s‑b¶‑v ]d-ª‑mÂ Be¦‑m-c‑n-I-a‑mbÃ‑, A£-c‑mÀ°-¯‑nÂ ic‑n-b‑mW‑v. s‑I‑mÃs‑¯ ]c-h‑q-c‑nÂ "k‑pP-\‑m-\-µ‑n\‑n' Fs‑¶‑mc‑p ]{‑X‑w Ig‑nª \‑qä‑m-ï‑ns‑â BZ‑y Zi-I¯‑nÂ Dï‑m-b‑n-c‑p¶‑p. 1906Â \S¶ k‑ma‑p-Z‑m-b‑nI el-f-b‑nÂ B ]{‑X‑w H‑m^‑ok‑p‑w {‑]Ê‑p‑w i{‑X‑p-¡Ä X‑oh¨‑p \i‑n-¸‑n¨‑p. k‑n.h‑n. I‑pª‑p-c‑m-a\‑p‑w I‑q«‑p-I‑mÀ¡‑p‑w B k‑w`h‑w he‑nb t‑hZ-\-b‑mb‑n. kc-k-Ih‑n a‑qe‑qÀ ]ß\‑m` ]W‑n-¡À‑, s‑I.k‑n. I‑pa‑m-c³‑, k‑n. I‑rj‑vW³ s‑s‑hZ‑yÀ F¶‑n-h-c‑p-a‑mb‑n t‑NÀ¶‑v k‑n.h‑n. ka‑p-Z‑mb‑w hI-b‑mb‑n ]Ic‑w a¿-\‑m«‑v Bc‑w-`‑n¨ ]{‑X-a‑mW‑v t‑Ic-f-I‑u-a‑pZ‑n h‑mc‑nI. kÀ¡‑mÀ Dt‑Z‑y‑mK‑w hl‑n-¨‑n-c‑p-¶-X‑n-\‑mÂ k‑n.h‑n. {‑]X‑y-£-¯‑nÂ hc‑ms‑X a‑qe‑q-c‑ns‑\ ] {‑X‑m-[‑n] Ø‑m\-¯‑p-h¨‑p. Hc‑p-s‑I‑mÃ‑w Ig‑nª‑v Dt‑Z‑y‑mK‑w Dt‑]-£‑n¨‑v t‑Ic-fI‑u-a‑p-Z‑n-b‑ps‑S DS-a-Ø‑m-h-I‑mi‑w k‑n.h‑n. ]‑qÀ®-a‑mb‑p‑w Gs‑ä-S‑p-¯‑p-s‑I‑mï‑v {‑] k‑n-²‑o-I-cW‑w s‑I‑mÃ-t‑¯¡‑p a‑mä‑n. ]{‑X-¯‑n\‑v c‑q]-k‑u-µc‑y‑w ]I-c‑m³ X\‑n-¡‑mh‑p‑w. F¶‑mÂ P‑oh³ \ÂI‑n AX‑ns‑\ \‑ne-\‑n-d‑p-t‑¯-ïX‑v X‑m¦-f‑ms‑W¶‑v a‑qe‑q-c‑ns‑\ H‑mÀ½‑n-¸‑n-¨‑p-s‑I‑mï‑v k‑n.h‑n. I‑pª‑p-c‑m-a³ Fg‑p-X‑nb I¯‑v t‑Ic-f-I‑u-a‑p-Z‑n-b‑ps‑S Bc‑w-`-Z-i-b‑ns‑e k‑m¼-¯‑nI {‑]b‑m-k-§-f‑n-t‑e¡‑v h‑ncÂ N‑qï‑p¶‑p. a‑pS-§‑nb‑p‑w h‑oï‑p‑w X‑pS-§‑nb‑p‑w a‑pS´‑n a‑pS´‑n \‑o§‑nb {‑]X‑n-h‑mc ]{‑X-¯‑ns‑â {‑]k‑n-²‑o-IcW‑w ]‑n¶‑oS‑p X‑nc‑p-h-\-´-]‑p-c-t‑¯¡‑v a‑mä‑n. 1921s‑e ae-_‑mÀ Ie‑m-]-¯‑ns‑â t‑lX‑p F´‑m-s‑W¶‑v k‑n.h‑n. t‑Ic-fI‑u-a‑p-Z‑n-b‑n-s‑e-g‑p-X‑nb a‑pJ {‑]k‑w-K¯‑nÂ h‑ni-Z‑o-I-c‑n-¡‑p-¶X‑p‑w t‑\‑m¡‑pI: ""X‑nc‑p-h‑n-X‑m‑w-I‑qÀ‑, s‑I‑m¨‑n‑, {‑_‑n«‑oj‑v ae-_‑mÀ F¶‑o a‑q¶‑v k‑wØ‑m-\§-f‑n-s‑eb‑p‑w P\-§Ä ka‑p-Z‑mb ] c‑n-j‑vI‑m-c-I‑m-c‑y-§-f‑nÂ Gd-¡‑ps‑d A`‑n-{‑]‑mb k‑ma‑y-a‑p-Å-h-c‑m-s‑W-¦‑ne‑p‑w X‑nc‑p-h‑n-X‑m‑w-I‑q-d‑n-s‑\-t‑¸‑ms‑e ]‑pt‑c‑m-KX‑n {‑]‑m]‑n-¡‑m³ s‑I‑m¨‑n¡‑p‑w ae-_‑m-d‑n\‑p‑w k‑m[‑n-¡‑ms‑X t‑]‑mbX‑v C‑u a‑q¶‑v k‑wØ‑m-\-§-f‑n-s‑eb‑p‑w P·‑n-I‑p-S‑n-b‑m³ GÀ¸‑m-S‑ns‑e h‑yX‑y‑mk‑ws‑I‑m-ï‑m-I‑p¶‑p. P·‑n I‑pS‑n-b‑m³ GÀ¸‑mS‑p-s‑I‑mï‑v X‑nc‑p-h‑n-X‑m‑w-I‑q-d‑ns‑e I‑pS‑n-b‑m-·‑mÀ¡‑pï‑mb D]-{‑Zh‑w kÀ. S‑n. a‑m[-h-c‑m-bc‑ps‑S I‑me‑w a‑pXÂ {‑It‑aW I‑pdª‑v Ct‑¸‑mÄ X‑os‑c CÃ‑m-X‑m-b‑n-«‑pï‑v. s‑I‑m¨‑n-b‑nÂ AÂ¸‑w Bi‑z‑m-k-a‑ps‑ï-¦‑ne‑p‑w ae-_‑m-d‑nÂ I‑pS‑n-b‑m-·‑mÀ Ct‑¸‑mg‑p‑w P·‑n-I-f‑ps‑S AS‑n-a-I-f‑mW‑v. a‑m¸‑nf el-fb‑v¡‑p a‑qe-I‑m-cW‑w P·‑n I‑pS‑n-b‑m³ GÀ¸‑m-S‑mW‑v.‑'' k‑n‑wls‑¯ AX‑ns‑â aS-b‑nÂ s‑N¶‑v I‑og-S-¡‑m³

(19) k‑n.h‑n. i‑oe‑n-¨‑n-«‑pï‑v. X‑q¼s‑b B t‑]c‑v t‑\s‑c h‑nf‑n-¨‑mW‑v At‑±-l-¯‑n\‑v i‑oe‑w. `‑mj-b‑ps‑S K‑m‑w`‑o-c‑yh‑p‑w h‑m¡‑pI-f‑ps‑S I‑rX‑y-Xb‑p‑w s‑s‑ie‑n-b‑ps‑S s‑Xf‑n-ab‑p‑w k‑n.h‑n. I‑pª‑p-c‑m-as‑â KZ‑y-c-N-\s‑b h‑yX‑y-k‑vX-a‑m¡‑n. al‑mI-h‑n-I-f‑mb hÅ-t‑¯‑mf‑p‑w DÅ‑qc‑p‑w At‑±-l-¯‑ns‑â KZ‑y-s‑s‑i-e‑ns‑b {‑] i‑w-k‑n-¨‑n-«‑pï‑v. ""{‑]X‑n-`-Ss‑â l‑rZb‑w ]‑nfÀ¡‑p-t‑¼‑mg‑p‑w Ab‑mÄ N‑nc‑n¨‑p-t‑]‑m-I‑p¶ ^e‑nX ak‑r-W-a‑mb `‑mj‑m {‑]t‑b‑mK‑w'' F¶‑v BÀ.FÂ. Ì‑oh³k¬ ]d-b‑p¶ Xc-¯‑n-e‑pÅ KZ‑y-¯‑n-e‑mW‑v k‑n.h‑n. I‑pª‑p-c‑m-a³ Fg‑p-X‑n-bX‑v. AX‑n-\‑mÂ t‑Ic-f-I‑u-a‑p-Z‑n¡‑p-]‑p-dt‑a "ae-b‑mf‑n‑' {‑i‑oh‑m-g‑p-t‑I‑mS‑v‑, S‑n.s‑I. a‑m[-hs‑â "t‑Zi‑m-`‑n-a‑m\‑n‑' X‑pS§‑nb ]{‑X-§Ä¡‑p‑w Ht‑c I‑me¯‑v k‑n.h‑n. a‑pJ-{‑]-k‑w-K-§Ä Fg‑p-X‑n-b‑n-

GI‑m-[‑n-]-X‑y-¯‑n\‑p I‑og‑vs‑¸-«‑n-c‑n-¡‑p¶‑p F¶-Ã‑ms‑X C‑u `c-W-c‑oX‑n X‑r]‑vX‑nI-c-a‑m-s‑W¶‑v BÀ¡‑p‑w ]d-b‑m³ Ig‑nb‑p-¶-XÃ.‑'' {‑_‑n«‑oj‑v `c-W-s‑¯t‑b‑m c‑mP-`-c-W-s‑¯t‑b‑m FX‑nÀ¡‑p¶ \bk-a‑o-]\‑w k‑n.h‑n.¡‑pï‑m-b‑n-c‑p-¶‑nÃ. F¶‑mÂ A\‑o-X‑ns‑b s‑s‑It‑b‑ms‑S Iï‑p-]‑n-S‑n¨‑p I‑pS-b‑m³ ck-I-c-a‑mb Hc‑p `‑mj‑m-s‑s‑ie‑n At‑±l‑w a‑qÀÑ-I‑q«‑n h¨‑n-c‑p¶‑p. "s‑X‑mg‑p‑w t‑X‑md‑p‑w s‑X‑mg‑n¡‑p-¶‑p‑'‑, "A`‑n-{‑]‑mb‑w Cc‑p-¼‑p-e-¡bÃ‑'F¶‑o {‑]k‑n-²-a‑mb {‑]t‑b‑m-K-§Ä k‑n.h‑n.b‑nÂ \‑n¶‑p-ï‑m-b-X‑m-s‑W¶‑v t‑]‑me‑p‑w Ad‑n-b‑ms‑X \‑mS‑p-a‑p-g‑p-h³ {‑] N-c‑n-¡‑p-Ib‑p‑w C¶‑p‑w N‑neÀ k‑mµÀ`‑n-Ia‑mb‑n {‑]t‑b‑m-K‑n-¡‑p-Ib‑p‑w s‑N¿‑p-¶‑pï‑v. \‑nk‑z‑mÀ°-\‑mb ka‑p-Z‑m-t‑b‑m-²‑m-cI-s‑\¶ \‑ne-b‑ne‑p‑w {‑]i-k‑vX-\‑m-b‑nc‑p¶‑p k‑n.h‑n. I‑pª‑p-c‑m-a³. {‑i‑o\‑m-

hÀ¯\‑w K‑pc‑p-k‑va-c-W-t‑b‑ms‑S Bc‑w`‑n-¨X‑v "X‑r¸‑m-Z-§Ä‑' F¶‑v a‑p¶‑n-e‑pÅ t‑]¸À ]‑mU‑nÂ Fg‑p-X‑n-s‑¡‑m-ï‑m-b‑nc‑p¶‑p. Z‑nh-k-h‑p-s‑a-g‑p-X‑p¶ BZ‑y-h‑m¡‑v k‑z‑ma‑n¡‑v kaÀ¸‑n-¨‑p-I-g‑n-ª‑mÂ ] {‑X‑m-[‑n-]À D‑uÀÖ-k‑z-e-\‑mb‑n. ]‑ns‑¶ ]{‑X‑m-[‑n] ka‑n-X‑n-b‑ns‑e k‑o\‑n-bÀ A‑wK-§-f‑p-a‑mb‑n Bi-b-h‑n-\‑n-ab‑w \ S¯‑p‑w. h‑nh‑n[ ]{‑X-§-f‑ns‑e h‑n`-h-§f‑p-a‑mb‑n A¶s‑¯ t‑Ic-f-I‑u-a‑p-Z‑ns‑b X‑mc-X-a‑y-s‑¸-S‑p¯‑n h‑ne-b‑n-c‑p-¯‑p¶‑p. AS‑p¯ Z‑nh-ks‑¯ a‑pJ {‑]k‑w-K¯‑ns‑â h‑njb‑w t‑XS‑p¶‑p. c‑mj‑v{‑S‑ob k‑ma‑q-l‑nI k‑w`-h-K-X‑n-IÄ h‑niI-e\‑w s‑Nb‑vX‑p h‑ne-b‑n-c‑p-¯‑p¶‑p. kµÀi-Is‑c \‑nb-{‑´‑n-X-a‑mb‑n k‑z‑oI-c‑n¡‑p¶‑p. A§s‑\ ]{‑X‑m-[‑n-]-c‑ps‑S Hc‑p Z‑nhk‑w kP‑o-h-a‑m-I‑p¶‑p. AX‑n-\‑ns‑S Dä k‑vt‑\l‑n-X³ {‑]i-k‑vX-\‑mb Hc‑p

knwls¯ AXnsâ aS-bnÂ sN¶v Iog-S-¡m³ kn.hn. ioen-¨n«pïv. Xq¼sb B t]cv t\sc hnfn-¨mWv At±-l-¯n\v ioew. `mj-bpsS Kmw`o-cyhpw hm¡p-I-fpsS IrXy-Xbpw ssien-bpsS sXfn-abpw kn.hn. Ipªp-cm-asâ KZy-c-N-\sb hyXy-kvX-am¡n. alm-I-hn-I-fmb hÅ-t¯mfpw DÅqcpw At±-l-¯nsâ KZy-ssiensb {]iw-kn-¨n-«pïv. ""{]Xn-`-Ssâ lrZbw ]nfÀ¡p-t¼mgpw AbmÄ Nncn-¨p-t]m-Ip¶ ^enX akr-W-amb `mjm {]tbmKw'' F¶v BÀ.FÂ. Ìoh³k¬ ]d-bp¶ Xc-¯n-epÅ KZy-¯nemWv kn.hn. Ipªp-cm-a³ Fgp-Xn-bXv. "sXmgpw tXmdpw sXmgn¡p-¶p', "A`n-{]mbw Ccp-¼p-e-¡-bÃ' F¶o {]kn-²-amb {]tbm-K-§Ä kn.hn.bnÂ \n¶p-ïm-b-Xm-sW¶v t]mepw Adn-bmsX \mSp-ap-gp-h³ {]N-cn-¡p-Ibpw C¶pw NneÀ kmµÀ`n-I-ambn {]tbm-Kn-¡p-Ibpw sN¿p-¶pïv. \nkzmÀ°-\mb kap-Zm-tbm-²mc-I-s\¶ \ne-bnepw {]i-kvX-\m-bn-cp¶p kn.hn. Ipªp-cm-a³. {io\m-cm-b-W-Kp-cp-hnsâ {][m-\-s¸« Krl-Ø-in-jy-\m-bn-cp¶p At±lw. A\p-]-a-amb Cu kmwkvIm-cnI ss]Xr-I-¯nÂ \n¶mWv sI. kpIp-am-csâ hchv. k‑n.h‑n. I‑pª‑p-c‑m-a³

«‑pï‑v. "\h-P‑o-h³' F¶ ]{‑X-¯‑nÂ k‑n.h‑n. Fg‑p-X‑nb {‑]X‑n-h‑m-c-N‑n-´-IÄ F¶ ]‑wà‑n-b‑nÂ \‑n¶‑v D²-c‑n-¡‑p¶ C‑u hc‑n-IÄ t‑\‑m¡‑pI: ""X‑nc‑p-h‑n-X‑m‑wI‑q-d‑n-\-I-¯‑pÅ cï‑v {‑_‑n«‑oj‑v {‑]t‑Z-i§-f‑mb A©‑p-s‑X§‑p‑w X¦-t‑i-c‑nb‑p‑w Ct‑¸‑mÄ `c‑n¨‑p hc‑p¶ k{‑¼-Z‑mb‑w hfs‑c ck-I-c-a‑mW‑v. I‑ng-t‑¡‑m-«‑n-c‑n-¡‑pt‑¼‑mÄ aP‑n-k‑vt‑{‑S«‑p‑w ]S‑n-ª‑m-t‑d‑m«‑v Cc‑n-¡‑p-t‑¼‑mÄ a‑p³k‑n^‑p‑w s‑Xt‑¡‑m«‑n-c‑n-¡‑p-t‑¼‑mÄ Xl-k‑nÂZ‑md‑p‑w hS-t‑¡‑m-«‑n-c‑n-¡‑p-t‑¼‑mÄ s‑]‑me‑ok‑v C³k‑vs‑]-I‑vSd‑p‑w Bb‑n Hc‑mÄ Xs‑¶ {‑_Ò‑m-h‑n-s‑\-t‑¸‑ms‑e \‑m·‑p-J-\‑m-b‑nc‑p¶‑p GI‑m-[‑n-]X‑y‑w \S-¯‑p-I-b‑mW‑v. GX‑p `cW c‑oX‑nb‑p‑w ]c‑n-N-b‑w-s‑I‑mï‑v {‑]‑nb-X-c-a‑m-b‑n-¯‑o-c‑p¶ a\‑p-j‑y-k‑z`‑mh‑w \‑na‑n¯‑w cï‑p Z‑n¡‑p-I‑mc‑p‑w C‑u

c‑m-b-W-K‑p-c‑p-h‑ns‑â {‑][‑m-\-s‑¸« K‑rl-Ø-i‑n-j‑y-\‑m-b‑n-c‑p¶‑p At‑±l‑w. A\‑p-]-a-a‑mb C‑u k‑m‑wk‑vI‑m-c‑nI s‑s‑] X‑r-I-¯‑nÂ \‑n¶‑mW‑v s‑I. k‑pI‑p-a‑mcs‑â hch‑v. I‑rX‑y-a‑mb‑n ]d-ª‑mÂ 1903 P\‑p-hc‑n F«‑m‑w X‑obX‑n a¿-\‑mS‑v ]‑m«-¯‑nÂ Xd-h‑m-«‑nÂ s‑I‑m¨‑n-¡‑m-h‑ns‑âb‑p‑w KZ‑y-k‑m-l‑n-X‑y-¯‑ns‑e kh‑yk‑m-N‑n-b‑mb k‑n.h‑n. I‑pª‑p-c‑m-a-s‑âb‑p‑w cï‑m-as‑¯ ]‑p{‑X-\‑mb‑n k‑pI‑p-a‑m-c³ P\‑n¨‑p. Fk‑v.F³.U‑n.]‑n.t‑b‑mK‑w F¶ k‑ma‑p-Z‑m-b‑nI {‑]Ø‑m\‑w ]‑nd-h‑ns‑b-S‑p-¯X‑p‑w At‑X Z‑nhk‑w Xs‑¶b‑m-b‑n-c‑p¶‑p. t‑b‑mK-¯‑n\‑p‑w X\‑n¡‑p‑w Hc‑p {‑]‑mb-a‑m-s‑W¶‑v A`‑n-a‑m-\-]‑qÀh‑w s‑I. k‑pI‑p-a‑m-c³ ]d-b‑p-a‑m-b‑n-c‑p¶‑p. t‑Ic-f-I‑u-a‑p-Z‑n-b‑nÂ ]{‑X‑m-[‑n-]À H‑mt‑c‑m Z‑nh-kh‑p‑w c‑mh‑ns‑e Xs‑â {‑]

Ie‑m-i‑me‑m s‑{‑]‑m^-kÀ Xt‑e-Z‑n-hk‑w Fh‑n-s‑St‑b‑m \S-¯‑nb Xs‑â {‑]k‑wK‑w ]‑qÀ®-c‑q-]-¯‑nÂ Fg‑pX‑n ]{‑X-¯‑nÂ {‑]k‑n-²‑o-I-cW‑w t‑XS‑n ]{‑X‑m-[‑n-]s‑c ka‑o-]‑n-¡‑p¶‑p. {‑]k‑wK‑w Fg‑p-X‑nb IS-e-‑mk‑p-IÄ ad‑n¨‑p t‑\‑m¡‑n ]{‑X‑m[‑n-]À ]d-b‑p¶‑p; CX‑p a‑pg‑p-h³ A¨S‑n-¨‑mÂ t‑Ic-f-I‑u-a‑p-Z‑n-b‑nÂ ]‑ns‑¶ h‑mÀ¯ s‑I‑mS‑p-¡‑m³ Øe-s‑a-h‑ns‑S? AX‑n-\‑mÂ s‑{‑]‑m^-kÀ CX‑v \‑me‑n-s‑e‑m¶‑mb‑n N‑pc‑p¡‑n Fg‑pX‑n \‑ms‑f-s‑I‑mï‑p-hc‑q. s‑{‑]‑m^-kÀ ]‑nt‑ä¶‑v B {‑] k‑wK‑w a‑pg‑p-h³ s‑Nd‑nb A£-c-¯‑nÂ BZ‑y-t‑¯-X‑ne‑p‑w ]I‑pX‑n IS-e‑m-k‑nÂ ]IÀ¯‑n X‑nc‑n-¨‑p-h¶‑p ]{‑X‑m-[‑n-]s‑c I‑mW‑p¶‑p. ]{‑X‑m-[‑n-]À AX‑p h‑m§‑n h¨‑n«‑v s‑{‑]‑m^-ks‑d t‑\‑m¡‑n l‑rZ‑ya‑mb‑n N‑nc‑n¨‑v b‑m{‑X-b‑m¡‑n. ]{‑X‑m-[‑n] sabv 2014

(20) ka‑n-X‑n-b‑ns‑e Hc‑w-Ks‑¯ h‑nf‑n¨‑v s‑{‑]‑m^-k-d‑ps‑S I‑pd‑n¸‑v GÂ¸‑n-¨‑n«‑v AX‑v \‑me‑n-s‑e‑m-¶‑m¡‑n N‑pc‑p¡‑n FU‑nt‑ä‑m-d‑n-bÂ t‑]P‑nÂ X‑ms‑g s‑I‑mS‑p-¡‑m³ \‑nÀt‑±-i‑n-¨‑p-s‑I‑mï‑v C§s‑\ ]dª‑p: ""Hc‑p t‑N‑mh\‑v a‑m{‑Xt‑a as‑ä‑mc‑p t‑N‑mhs‑\ ]ä‑n-¡‑m-\‑mh‑q.'' s‑I‑mÃ¯‑p \‑n¶‑v {‑]k‑n-²‑o-I-c‑n¡‑p¶ Hc‑p Z‑n\-]-{‑X-¯‑ns‑e X‑nc‑p-h\-´-]‑p-c-¯‑p-I‑m-c-\‑mb s‑Nd‑p-¸-¡‑m-c\‑p-t‑hï‑n t‑Ic-f-I‑u-a‑pZ‑n ]{‑X‑m-[‑n] ka‑n-X‑n-b‑ns‑e {‑]a‑pJ A‑wK‑w ]{‑X‑m[‑n-]À k‑pI‑p-a‑m-cs‑â a‑p¶‑nÂ i‑p]‑mÀib‑p-a‑mb‑n s‑N¶‑p. s‑{‑Sb‑n-\‑nÂ Z‑nh-kh‑p‑w s‑I‑mÃ-¯‑p-t‑]‑mb‑n t‑P‑me‑n s‑N¿‑m³‑, I‑n«‑p¶ {‑]X‑n-a‑m-k-i-¼f‑w B b‑ph‑mh‑n\‑p aX‑n-b‑m-I‑p-¶‑nÃ. X‑nc‑p-h-\-´-]‑pc¯‑p t‑Ic-f-I‑u-a‑p-Z‑n-b‑n-e‑mW‑v At‑X t‑P‑me‑n-s‑b-¦‑nÂ Ab‑mÄ¡‑p \‑n¶‑p ]‑ngb‑v¡‑m‑w. Bf‑v kaÀ°\‑p‑w t‑b‑mK‑y\‑p-a‑mW‑v. Ab‑mÄ Xs‑¶ h¶‑p I‑mWs‑«-s‑b¶‑v ]{‑X‑m-[‑n-]À \‑nÀt‑±-i‑n¨‑p. ]‑nt‑ä-Z‑n-hk‑w b‑ph‑mh‑v ]{‑X‑m-[‑n-]s‑c Iï‑p. D]-N‑m-c-k‑z-`‑mh‑w X‑oï‑m¯ Hc‑p a‑pJ‑m-a‑pJ‑w. s‑I‑mÃs‑¯ ]{‑X¯‑n Â \‑n¶‑v t‑P‑me‑n c‑mP‑n-h-b‑v¡‑p-¶-X‑mb‑n Fg‑p-X‑n-s‑¡‑m-S‑p-¡‑m³ s‑Nd‑p-¸-¡‑m-ct‑\‑mS‑v ]{‑X‑m-[‑n-]À ]dª‑p. At‑±l‑w A§s‑\ s‑Nb‑vX‑p. Xs‑â ]{‑X-¯‑nÂ t‑Nc‑m-\‑pÅ At‑]-£b‑v¡‑p a‑pt‑¼ at‑ä ]{‑X-¯‑ns‑e t‑P‑me‑n-b‑nÂ \‑n¶‑pÅ c‑mP‑n-¡¯‑v h‑m§‑n-h-¨-s‑X-s‑´¶‑v a\Ê‑n-e‑m-I‑ms‑X b‑ph‑mh‑v \‑n¶‑p ]c‑p§‑n. a‑q¶‑v Z‑nhk‑w Ig‑nª‑p hc‑m³ ]{‑X‑m[‑n-]À Ab‑m-t‑f‑mS‑v ]dª‑p. AX‑n-\‑ns‑S s‑I‑mÃ‑w ]{‑X-¯‑ns‑â a‑pJ‑y-]-{‑X‑m-[‑n-] c‑p‑w Dä k‑pl‑r-¯‑p-a‑mb h‑yà‑n ]{‑X‑m -[‑n-]À k‑pI‑p-a‑m-cs‑\ h‑nf‑n¨‑p. Xs‑â Ø‑m]-\-¯‑ns‑e s‑I‑mÅ‑m-h‑p¶ Hc‑p {‑]hÀ¯-Is‑\ t‑Ic-f-I‑u-a‑pZ‑n X«‑n-s‑bS‑p¯‑p F¶‑v I‑pä-s‑¸-S‑p¯‑n. Ab‑mÄ

hc‑m-X‑n-c‑p-¶‑mÂ ]{‑X‑w {‑]b‑m-k-¯‑ne‑mI‑p‑w. t‑Ic-f-I‑u-a‑pZ‑n kl-P‑o-h‑n-Is‑f C§s‑\ \i‑n-¸‑n-¡-c‑pX‑v. ]{‑X‑m-[‑n-]À B k‑pl‑r-¯‑ns‑\ t‑\c‑nÂ I‑mW‑m³ B{‑Kl‑w {‑]I-S‑n-¸‑n¨‑p. At‑±l‑w aW‑n¡‑q-d‑p-IÄ¡I‑w t‑]«-b‑nÂ ]{‑X‑m-[‑n-]c‑ps‑S H‑m^‑ok‑v a‑pd‑n-b‑n-s‑e¯‑n. s‑Nd‑p¸-¡‑m-c³ Fg‑p-X‑nb c‑mP‑n-¡-¯‑ns‑â t‑I‑m¸‑n s‑I‑mÃs‑¯ N‑o^‑v FU‑n-äs‑d I‑mW‑n¨‑p. At‑±l‑w t‑^‑mW‑n-e‑qs‑S \S-¯‑nb I‑pä-s‑¸-S‑p-¯-e‑p-IÄ¡‑v a‑m¸‑p ]dª‑p. H‑mt‑c‑m N‑ph-S‑p-h-b‑v¸‑ne‑p‑w ]{‑X‑m-[‑n-] À k‑z‑oI-c‑n¨ k‑q£‑va-a‑mb a‑p³ Ic‑p-Xe‑p-IÄ Ak‑m-[‑m-c-W-a‑mW‑v. k‑n. AN‑y‑pX-t‑a-t‑\‑m³ a‑pJ‑y-a-{‑´‑n-b‑m-b‑n-c‑ns‑¡ ] {‑X‑m-[‑n-]À¡-b¨ Hc‑p k‑zI‑mc‑y I¯‑v h‑nh‑m-Z-]-c-a‑m-t‑b-¡‑m-h‑p¶ N‑ne ] c‑m-aÀi-§Ä AS-§‑n-b-X‑m-b‑n-c‑p¶‑p. GX‑m\‑p‑w Z‑nhk‑w Ig‑nª‑v ]{‑X‑m-[‑n-]c‑ps‑S Hc‑p a‑pJ-¡‑p-d‑n-t‑¸‑m-S‑p-I‑qS‑n AN‑y‑pX-t‑a-t‑\‑m\‑v Xs‑â I¯‑v aS-¡‑n-¡‑n«‑n. ]{‑X‑m-[‑n-]-c‑ps‑S a‑pJ-¡‑p-d‑n¸‑v C§-s‑\b‑m-b‑n-c‑p¶‑p. ""Gt‑X‑m Z‑pÀ_e \‑na‑nj-¯‑nÂ s‑s‑hI‑m-c‑nI k½À±-¯‑mÂ X‑m¦Ä Fg‑p-X‑n-b-X‑mW‑o Is‑¯¶‑v t‑X‑m¶‑p¶‑p. AX‑v Fs‑â ]¡Â Cc‑p¶‑mÂ AX‑ns‑e k‑vt‑^‑mS-\‑m-ß-I-a‑mb DÅ-S¡‑w Fs‑¶-¦‑ne‑p‑w ]{‑X-¯‑nÂ {‑] k‑n-²‑o-I-c‑n-¡‑m³ F\‑n¡‑v {‑]t‑I‑m-]\‑w Dï‑m-s‑b¶‑p hc‑m‑w. X‑m¦Äs‑¡-X‑ns‑c A§-s‑\‑m¶‑v s‑N¿‑m³ R‑m³ Ct‑¸‑mÄ B{‑K-l‑n-¡‑p-¶‑nÃ. \‑ms‑f F´‑mh‑p‑w Ø‑nX‑n-s‑b¶‑p ]d-b‑m-\‑m-I‑nÃ. AX‑n\‑mÂ X‑m¦-f‑ps‑S I¯‑v R‑m³ X‑m¦Ä¡‑p Xs‑¶ X‑nc‑n-¨-b-b‑v¡‑p¶‑p.‑'' AN‑y‑p-X-t‑a-t‑\‑m³ ]{‑X‑m-[‑n-]-c‑ps‑S Ak‑m-[‑m-c-W-a‑mb C‑u {‑]X‑n-I-c-Ws‑¯b‑p‑w Z‑oÀL-h‑o-£-W-s‑¯b‑p‑w {‑] I‑oÀ¯‑n-¨‑p-s‑I‑mï‑v ]‑nÂ¡‑m-e¯‑v Fg‑p-X‑nb A\‑p-k‑va-cW t‑eJ-\-¯‑nÂ‑,

c‑mP-\‑o-X‑n-b‑ne‑p‑w \b-X-{‑´-¯‑ne‑p‑w AS-§‑n-b‑n-«‑pÅ AÚ‑m-X-a‑mb Hc‑p ]‑mT‑w X\‑n¡‑v N‑qï‑n-¡‑m-W‑n¨‑p Xc‑p-Ib‑m-b‑n-c‑p¶‑p ]{‑X‑m-[‑n-]-s‑c¶‑v \‑nc‑o£‑n-¨‑n-«‑pï‑v. a¶¯‑p ]ß-\‑m-`³ t‑I‑m«b‑w X‑nc‑p-\-¡c s‑s‑aX‑m-\¯‑v C‑ugh ka‑p-Z‑m-bs‑¯ Bt‑£-]‑n-¨‑ps‑I‑mï‑v {‑]k‑w-K‑n-¨-t‑¸‑mÄ a‑pJ-{‑]k‑wK‑w Fg‑p-X‑nb‑p‑w s‑]‑mX‑p-k-t‑½-f-\¯‑nÂ {‑]k‑w-K‑n¨‑p‑w ]{‑X‑m-[‑n-]À ad‑p-] S‑n \ÂI‑n. a‑m\‑yh‑p‑w b‑pà‑n-`-{‑Zh‑p‑w ka‑p-Z‑mb s‑s‑a{‑X‑n¡‑v B¡‑w I‑q«‑p¶-X‑p-a‑m-b‑n-c‑p¶‑p ]{‑X‑m-[‑n-]-c‑ps‑S {‑] X‑n-I-c-W-§Ä. a¶-¯‑n\‑v t‑JZh‑p‑w I‑pä-t‑_‑m-[-h‑p-a‑p-ï‑mb‑n. h‑ni‑me a\k‑vI-\‑mb At‑±l‑w Xs‑â t‑JZ-{‑]-IS\‑w Hc‑p I¯‑n-e‑qs‑S s‑I. k‑pI‑p-a‑mcs‑\ t‑\c‑n«‑v Ad‑n-b‑n¨‑p. "Hc‑p P‑mX‑n‑, Hc‑p aX‑w‑, Hc‑p s‑s‑Zh‑w a\‑p-j‑y\‑v' F¶ K‑pc‑p-h-N\‑w BZÀi h‑mI‑y-a‑mb‑n k‑z‑oI-c‑n¨ t‑Ic-f-I‑u-a‑pZ‑n P‑oh-\-¡‑ms‑c X‑nc-s‑ª-S‑p-¡‑p-¶-X‑nÂ aX-P‑mX‑n ] c‑n-K-W-\-IÄ¡‑p-]c‑n a‑nI-h‑n\‑p‑w Ig‑nh‑n\‑p‑w {‑]‑m[‑m\‑y‑w IÂ¸‑n-¡-W-s‑a¶‑v ]{‑X‑m-[‑n-]À¡‑v \‑nÀ_-Ô-a‑p-ï‑m-b‑nc‑p¶‑p. ]{‑X-{‑]-hÀ¯-I-c‑ps‑S c‑mj‑v{‑S‑ob N‑mb‑vh‑v X‑pe\‑w s‑N¿-¯-¡-h‑n-[-a‑mW‑v D¯-c-h‑m-Z‑n-X‑z-§Ä H‑mt‑c‑m-c‑p-¯-s‑cb‑p‑w GÂ¸‑n-¨‑n-c‑p-¶X‑v. t‑I‑m¬{‑Kk‑v A\‑p`‑mh‑n Z‑nh‑m-I-c\‑p‑w I½‑y‑q-W‑n-Ì‑p-I‑m-c³ F‑w.s‑I. I‑pa‑m-c\‑p‑w s‑I. I‑mÀ¯‑nt‑I-b\‑p‑w t‑hW‑m-«‑p- I-c‑p-W‑m-I-c\‑p‑w P‑n. t‑K‑mh‑n-µ-¸‑n-Åb‑p‑w F³. c‑ma-N{‑µ\‑p‑w ]‑n.s‑I. _‑me-I‑r-j‑vW\‑p‑w s‑I. h‑nP-b-c‑m-L-h\‑p‑w F³.BÀ.Fk‑v. _‑m_‑ph‑p‑w Fk‑v. Pb-N-{‑µ³ \‑mbc‑p‑w A§s‑\ ]{‑X‑m-[‑n-]-c‑ps‑S b‑p²-`‑q-a‑nb‑ns‑e ]S-\‑m-b-I-c‑mb‑n. 1977Â F.s‑I. BâW‑n CS-¡‑me a‑pJ‑y-a-{‑´‑n-b‑mb‑n A[‑n-I‑m-c-t‑aä I‑mes‑¯ Hc‑p k‑w`h‑w F³.BÀ.Fk‑v. _‑m_‑p H‑mÀ¡‑p¶‑p.

Hmtcm Nph-Sp-h-bv¸nepw ]{Xm-[n-]À kzoI-cn¨ kq£va-amb ap³ Icp-X-ep-IÄ Akm-[m-c-W-amWv. kn. ANyp-X-ta-t\m³ apJy-a-{´nbm-bn-cns¡ ]{Xm-[n-]À¡-b¨ Hcp kzImcy I¯v hnhm-Z-]-c-amtb-¡m-hp¶ Nne ]cm-aÀi-§Ä AS-§n-b-Xm-bn-cp¶p. GXm\pw Znhkw Ignªv ]{Xm-[n-]-cpsS Hcp apJ-¡p-dn-t¸m-Sp-IqSn ANypX-ta-t\m\v Xsâ I¯v aS-¡n-¡n«n. ]{Xm-[n-]-cpsS apJ-¡p-dn¸v C§-s\-bm-bn-cp¶p. ""GtXm ZpÀ_e \nan-j-¯nÂ sshIm-cnI k½À±-¯mÂ Xm¦Ä Fgp-Xn-b-XmWo Is¯¶v tXm¶p¶p. AXv Fsâ ]¡Â Ccp-¶mÂ AXnse kvt^mS-\m-ß-I-amb DÅS¡w Fs¶-¦nepw ]{X-¯nÂ {]kn-²o-I-cn-¡m³ F\n¡v {]tIm]\w Dïm-sb¶p hcmw. Xm¦Äs¡-Xnsc A§-s\m¶v sN¿m³ Rm³ Ct¸mÄ B{K-ln-¡p-¶nÃ. \msf F´mhpw ØnXn-sb¶p ]d-bm-\m-InÃ. AXn-\mÂ Xm¦-fpsS I¯v Rm³ Xm¦Ä¡p Xs¶ Xncn-¨-b-bv¡p¶p.'' s‑I. k‑pI‑p-a‑m-c-³ sabv 2014

(21) F‑w.FÂ.F. AÃ‑m¯ BâW‑n a‑pJ‑ya-{‑´‑n-b‑mb‑n kX‑y-{‑]-X‑nÚ s‑Nb‑vXt‑ij‑w At‑±-l-¯‑n\‑p aÕ-c‑n-¡‑m³ Xt‑e-¡‑p-¶‑nÂ _j‑oÀ Ig-¡‑q«‑w \‑nba-k`‑m k‑oä‑v Hg‑nª‑p. Bâ-W‑n-t‑b‑mS‑v ]{‑X‑m-[‑n-]À¡‑v h‑mÕe‑y‑w. FX‑nÀØ‑m\‑mÀ°‑n ]‑nc-¸³t‑I‑mS‑v {‑i‑o[-c³\‑m-bt‑c‑mS‑v Z‑oÀL-I‑me k‑ul‑rZ‑w. cï‑p-t‑] c‑p‑w Pb‑n-¡-W-s‑a¶‑v B{‑K-l‑n-¨‑me‑p‑w \S-¸‑nÃ. Gäh‑p‑w \‑nj‑v]-£-a‑mb‑n D]X‑n-c-s‑ª-S‑p¸‑p h‑mÀ¯-IÄ X¿‑m-d‑m¡‑m³ F³.BÀ.Fk‑v. _‑m_‑p-h‑ns‑\ ]{‑X‑m-[‑n-]À GÂ¸‑n¨‑p. D]-s‑X-c-s‑ªS‑p-¸‑ns‑e k‑p{‑]-[‑m\ h‑mÀ¯ X¿‑md‑m¡‑n Xe-s‑¡-s‑«-g‑pX‑n At‑±l‑w H¶‑m‑w ]‑pd¯‑v {‑]-k‑n-²‑o-I-c‑n¨‑p. "A£‑ul‑n-W‑n-IÄ \‑nc¶‑p; b‑p²-I‑m-lf‑w a‑pg§‑n‑' F¶ AÀ°-s‑¸‑m-e‑n-a-b‑pÅ s‑lU‑vs‑s‑e³. ]{‑X‑m-[‑n-]-k-a‑n-X‑n-b‑ns‑e FÃ‑m-h-c‑p-s‑Sb‑p‑w A`‑n-\-µ\‑w {‑]X‑o£‑n¨‑v A`‑n-a‑m-\-t‑¯‑m-s‑S-b‑mW‑v ]‑nt‑ä¶‑v _‑m_‑p H‑m^‑o-k‑n-s‑e-¯‑n-bX‑v. ]{‑X‑m[‑n-]À At‑±-ls‑¯ h‑nf‑n-¸‑n¨‑p. t‑\c‑n«‑p {‑]i‑w-k‑n-¡‑m-\‑m-h‑p-s‑a¶‑v _‑m_‑p {‑] X‑o-£‑n¨‑p. F¶‑mÂ i‑m]-h‑m-¡‑p-IÄ Dc‑p-h‑n-«‑p-s‑I‑mï‑v C‑w¥‑oj‑v `‑mj-b‑nÂ X‑o{‑h-i-à‑n-t‑b‑ms‑S Bt‑{‑I‑m-i‑n-¡‑p-Ib‑m-b‑n-c‑p¶‑p ]{‑X‑m-[‑n-]À. ""A£‑ul‑n-W‑n-IÄ \‑nc-¶‑p-t‑]‑me‑p‑w. i‑qc-\‑mS‑v I‑pª³]‑n-Å-s‑b-t‑¸‑m-e‑pÅ `‑mj‑m-]W‑vU‑n-X-·‑mÀ¡‑p h‑mb‑n-¡‑m-\‑p-Å-XÃ ] {‑X‑w. N‑pa-«‑p-s‑X‑m-g‑n-e‑m-f‑n-If‑p‑w S‑mI‑vk‑n s‑s‑{‑UhÀa‑mc‑p‑w _‑mÀ_Àa‑mc‑p‑w I‑qe‑n¸-W‑n-¡‑mc‑p‑w DÄs‑¸« k‑m[‑m-c-W¡‑m-c‑ps‑S ]{‑X-a‑m-W‑nX‑v. C§-s‑\‑mc‑p Xe-s‑¡«‑v \ÂI‑n-b-X‑n-e‑qs‑S AX‑n-\‑nS-b‑n-e‑pÅ at‑\‑m-l-c-a‑mb h‑nh-c-W§Ä h‑mb‑n-¡-s‑¸-S‑ms‑X t‑]‑mI‑ns‑Ã. ] {‑X-s‑¯-¯s‑¶ \‑m«‑p-I‑m-c‑nÂ \‑n¶‑v AI-ä‑ns‑Ã? I‑pª‑v GX‑p k‑vI‑qf‑ne‑m t‑PW-e‑nk‑w ]T‑n-¨X‑v...?'' ad‑p-]S‑n ] d-b‑m-\‑m-h‑m¯ t‑N‑mZ‑y-§Ä¡‑p a‑p¶‑nÂ \‑n¶‑v c£-s‑¸-S‑m³ ]g‑pX‑p t‑XS‑n I‑m¯‑p-\‑n¶ t‑eJ-I³ P\-I‑ob ] {‑X-{‑]-hÀ¯-\-s‑¯-¡‑p-d‑n¨‑v Hc‑p kÀhI-e‑m-i‑m-e-b‑ne‑p‑w e`‑n-¡‑m¯ he‑ns‑b‑mc‑p ]‑mT‑w B K‑pc‑p-a‑p-J-¯‑p-\‑n¶‑v DÄs‑¡‑m-Å‑p-I-b‑m-b‑n-c‑p¶‑p. £‑oW‑nX-\‑mb‑n X‑nc‑n¨‑p \S-¡‑p-t‑¼‑mÄ ] {‑X‑m-[‑n-]À s‑s‑Is‑I‑m«‑n X‑nc‑n¨‑p h‑nf‑n¨‑v i_‑vZ‑w X‑mg‑v¯‑n _‑m_‑p-h‑ns‑â a‑pJt‑¯¡‑p I‑p\‑nª‑p ]-dª‑p‑, ""B d‑nt‑¸‑mÀ«‑v at‑\‑m-l-c-a‑mW‑v.‑'' t‑N‑mÀ¶‑pt‑]‑mb h‑oc‑y‑w h‑os‑ï-S‑p¯‑v At‑±l‑w Cc‑n-¸‑n-S-¯‑n-t‑e¡‑p aS§‑n. ]{‑X‑m-[‑n-]À k‑pI‑p-a‑m-c³ A§-s‑\b‑m-b‑n-c‑p¶‑p. ]{‑X‑w aS¡‑n s‑I«‑nb‑p‑w IhÀ H«‑n¨‑p‑w {‑]‑q^‑v h‑mb‑n¨‑p‑w AÑs‑\ kl‑m-b‑n-¨‑p-s‑I‑m-ï‑mW‑v At‑±l‑w ]{‑X-{‑]-hÀ¯-\-¯‑nÂ ]

s‑I. k‑pI‑p-a‑m-c-³ {]kwKthZnbnÂ

c‑n-i‑o-e\‑w t‑\S‑n-bX‑v. ]{‑´ï‑m‑w hbÊ‑p-a‑p-XÂ {‑]k‑w-K-t‑h-Z‑n-b‑nÂ Ibd‑n. Fk‑v.F³.U‑n.]‑n. t‑b‑mK-¯‑ns‑â A¼X‑m‑w h‑mÀj‑n-I-¯‑n\‑v s‑I. k‑pI‑pa‑m-c³ t‑b‑mK‑w {‑]k‑n-Uâ‑mb‑n. BÀ. i¦À P\-dÂ s‑k{‑I-«-d‑nb‑p‑w. At‑¸‑mÄ ]{‑X‑m-[‑n-]À¡‑p‑w 50 hb-Ê‑m-b‑n-c‑p¶‑p. ]t‑£ \b-I‑m-c‑y-§-f‑nÂ i¦-d‑p-a‑mb‑n t‑b‑mP‑n-¨‑p-t‑]‑m-I‑m³ At‑±-l-¯‑n\‑p Ig‑n-ª‑nÃ. h‑nZ‑y‑mÀ°‑n {‑]t‑£‑m-`¯‑nÂ ]s‑¦-S‑p¯‑v Cc‑p-hc‑p‑w i‑n£‑n-¡s‑¸«‑v ]‑qP-¸‑pc Pb‑n-e‑nÂ Ht‑c XSh‑p a‑pd‑n-b‑nÂ Ig‑n-ª‑n-«‑pï‑v. i¦-d‑ps‑S ]‑mW‑vU‑n-X‑yh‑p‑w I‑mh‑y ]‑mc‑m-b-W-i‑oeh‑p‑w k‑pI‑p-a‑m-cs‑\ s‑Nd‑p-¸-¯‑nÂ BIÀj‑n-¨‑n-c‑p¶‑p. ]t‑£ c‑mj‑v{‑S‑ob k‑ma‑p-Z‑m-b‑nI h‑nj-b-§-f‑nÂ i¦s‑d FX‑nÀ¡‑m³ ]‑nÂ¡‑m-e¯‑v ]{‑X‑m-[‑n-] s‑c t‑{‑]c‑n-¸‑n¨ t‑Nt‑X‑m-h‑n-I‑mc‑w F´‑mb‑n-c‑p¶‑p F¶‑v BÀ¡‑p‑w Ad‑n-ª‑pI‑qS. B[‑p-\‑nI I‑mes‑¯ t‑I‑m¬{‑K-k‑pI‑mÀ K‑mÔ‑n-s‑¯‑m¸‑n Dt‑]-£‑n-¨‑n«‑p‑w ] {‑X‑m-[‑n-]À k‑pI‑p-a‑m-c³ {‑]X‑y-£-¯‑nÂ Hc‑p t‑I‑m¬{‑K-k‑p-I‑m-c³ AÃ‑m-X‑n-c‑p¶‑n«‑p‑w acW‑w hs‑c K‑mÔ‑n-s‑¯‑m-¸‑nb-W‑nª‑p. s‑a‑mb‑vX‑p-a‑u-e-h‑n-b‑ne‑p‑w s‑I. k‑pI‑p-a‑m-c-\‑n-e‑p-a‑mW‑v t‑Icf‑w

Ah-k‑m-\-a‑mb‑n K‑mÔ‑n-s‑¯‑m-¸‑n-IïX‑v. hÃ-t‑¸‑mg‑p‑w {‑]t‑£‑m` t‑hZ‑nb‑nÂ hc‑p-t‑¼‑mÄ t‑I‑m«-bs‑¯ s‑I.k‑n. a‑m½s‑â i‑nc-Ê‑nÂ Hc‑p I‑me h‑n{‑`a‑w t‑]‑ms‑e K‑mÔ‑n-s‑¯‑m¸‑n I‑mW‑m‑w. B‑w BZ‑va‑n ]‑mÀ«‑n-¡‑m-c‑n-e‑qs‑S AX‑n-t‑¸‑mÄ aS-§‑n-h-c‑p-I-b‑mI‑m‑w. t‑I‑m¬{‑K-k‑pI‑mÀ Ic‑p-X‑p-¶‑p-ï‑mI‑p‑w t‑X‑mä‑m-e‑mW‑v s‑X‑m¸‑n-h-b‑v¡‑p-¶-s‑X¶‑v. K‑mÔ‑n-b-·‑mÀ t‑X‑mÂ¡‑p-Ib‑p‑w \h-t‑I‑m¬{‑K-k‑p-I‑mÀ Pb‑n-¡‑p-Ib‑p‑w s‑N¿‑p¶‑p. ]{‑X‑m-[‑n-]À k‑pI‑p-a‑m-c³ t‑X‑mÂ¸‑n-¡‑ms‑X s‑X‑m¸‑nb‑n« al‑m-\‑p-`‑m-h-\‑mW‑v. s‑]‑me‑ok‑v hI‑p-¸‑nÂ ¢‑mÀ¡‑m-b‑n-c‑ns‑¡ _‑nc‑p-Z-[‑mc‑n-IÄ¡‑v k_‑v C³k‑vs‑]-I‑vSÀ Xk‑vX‑nI-b‑nÂ s‑I. k‑pI‑p-a‑m-c³ At‑]£ \ ÂI‑n. s‑I‑mÃ‑w U‑n.Fk‑v.]‑n.b‑mb‑n-c‑p¶ Xs‑â t‑ae‑p-t‑Z‑y‑m-K-Ø³ A\‑p-I‑qe d‑nt‑¸‑mÀ«‑v \ÂI‑n-b‑n«‑p‑w P‑mX‑n h‑nt‑h-N\-¯‑mÂ At‑±-l-¯‑n\‑v C³k‑vs‑]-I‑vSÀ Xk‑vX‑nI \ÂI‑n-b‑nÃ. AX‑nÂ {‑]X‑nt‑j-[‑n¨‑v kÀ¡‑mÀ Dt‑Z‑y‑mK‑w Ft‑¶-¡‑pa‑mb‑n Dt‑]-£‑n¨‑v t‑Ic-f-I‑u-a‑p-Z‑n-b‑ps‑S \S-¯‑n-¸‑nÂ ]¦‑p-t‑N-c‑p-I-b‑m-b‑n-c‑p¶‑p k‑pI‑p-a‑m-c³. Be-¸‑pg t‑_‑m«‑v s‑P«‑nb‑ns‑e \‑mbÀ t‑l‑m«-e‑nÂ _‑me‑y-¯‑nÂ P‑mX‑n h‑nt‑h-N-\-¯‑mÂ D¨-b‑qW‑v \ ÂI‑m-X‑n-c‑p-¶X‑p‑w AÀl-a‑mb Dt‑Z‑y‑m-K¡-bä‑w \‑nt‑j-[‑n-¨X‑p‑w s‑I. k‑pI‑p-a‑mcs‑â Bß‑m-`‑n-a‑m-\-¯‑n-t‑\ä BL‑m-X§-f‑mW‑v. At‑±-l-¯‑ns‑â ]‑nÂ¡‑me P‑oh‑n-Xs‑¯ c‑q]-s‑¸-S‑p-¯‑n-bX‑v B s‑Nd‑nb k‑w`-h-§-f‑mW‑v. Z£‑n-W‑m-{‑^‑n¡-b‑nÂ h¨‑v F‑w.s‑I. K‑mÔ‑n-s‑b¶ A`‑n-`‑m-j-Is‑\ s‑{‑Sb‑n-\‑ns‑e H¶‑m‑w¢‑mk‑v I¼‑mÀ«‑vs‑aâ‑nÂ \‑n¶‑v S‑n¡ä‑v ] c‑n-t‑i‑m-[-I-\‑mb [‑zc- hÀ®-h‑n-t‑h-N\ t‑_‑m[-¯‑mÂ ¹‑mä‑vt‑^‑m-a‑n-t‑e¡‑v he‑ns‑¨-d‑nª‑p. AX‑n-\‑mÂ C´‑yb‑v¡‑v al‑m-ß-P‑n-s‑b¶ c‑mj‑v{‑S-]-X‑ns‑b I‑n«‑n. s‑I. k‑pI‑p-a‑m-c³ Ij‑vS-I‑m-e¯‑n\‑v s‑]‑me‑ok‑v k_‑v C³k‑vs‑]-I‑vSÀ Bb‑n-t‑¸‑m-b‑n-c‑p-s‑¶-¦‑nÂ ka‑q-l-¯‑n\‑v F{‑X- h-e‑nb \j‑vS‑w k‑w`-h‑n-¡‑p-a‑m-b‑nc‑p¶‑p. 1973Â ]ß-`‑q-j¬ _l‑p-a-X‑nb‑mÂ c‑mj‑v{‑S‑w BZ-c‑n¨ ]{‑X‑m-[‑n-]À s‑I. k‑pI‑p-a‑m-c³ Dï‑m-I‑p-a‑m-b‑n-c‑p-¶‑nÃ. t‑Ic-f-I‑u-a‑pZ‑n t‑ht‑d-s‑X-¦‑ne‑p‑w c‑q]-`‑mh-§-f‑mÂ Dï‑m-s‑b-¶‑p-hc‑m‑w. t‑Icf‑w C§-s‑\-b‑m-I‑p-a‑m-b‑n-c‑p-¶‑nÃ. F‑w.Fk‑v. aW‑n-s‑b¶ s‑ke‑n-{‑_‑nä‑n FU‑n-äd‑p‑w F‑w.Fk‑v. a[‑p-k‑q-Z-\³ F¶ ]c‑o£W I‑pX‑p-I‑n-b‑mb B[‑p-\‑nI ]{‑X‑m[‑n-]c‑p‑w A§s‑\ ]eX‑p‑w t‑Ic-f-¯‑n\‑v A\‑y-a‑m-I‑p-a‑m-b‑n-c‑p¶‑p. teJIsâ Cþsabvð: sujaathan@gmail.com

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(22) Report

Ashok R Chandran

Points to Poynter The future is in digital, and the Malayali journalist is already there

n March 2014, the Poynter Institute of Media Studies, a leading journalism school in the United States, dipped its feet in Indian waters through three workshops, one each in Chennai, Kochi, and Bengaluru. In turn, in each of these threeday collaborative workshops, mid-career Indian journalists and journalism teachers got a taste of contemporary journalism and journalism education in the United States. The Kochi workshop was organised in partnership with the Kerala Press Academy, and it ran from 23–25 March at the Taj Gateway. To match the pulse of that edition, I am going to shift gears. So, please fasten your seatbelt as we zip through the sessions. ***

Journalism.” Finberg’s core message is that we need to rethink the way we report news and train journalists, because two forces—technology and economics— disrupt creative industries. He draws on the work of Clayton Christensen (The Innovator’s Dilemma) and argues that established firms which undertake incremental improvements remain vulnerable to disruptive innovations. Finberg gives the example of the US print media industry, where in the last 10 years, newspaper advertising revenue fell dramatically, and value was created by freshly minted companies.

Day 1

Sunday morning. 0845 hrs. Journalists stand in queue near the registration desk. That in itself is ‘breaking news’ material, but goes unreported. Inauguration at 0900. Participating journalist Sabin Iqbal tweets from the venue “#poynterindia workshop in Kochi gets under way. Shanna from US Consulate in Chennai addresses the workshop.” Welcome to journalism education in the new media era—even while you are in the classroom, you toss a news-bite to Twitter. And the faculty have created a hashtag for students’ use! Inaugural speeches are subbed-like crisp, and within 15 minutes, we are into the business at hand. Howard Finberg, Director at Poynter and “leader of the expedition” to India has kicked off with an introduction to Poynter and the workshop. It is not every day that one gets to see in this part of the world, an energetic 70+ educator enlightening the audience on “The Exciting, Changing Future of

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While disruptive innovations take place in industry, there is no consensus yet on what shape journalism education should take. Presenting results from The Future of Journalism Education 2013 report, which he co-ordinated, Finberg shows that there is a wide gap between what professionals value and what journalism faculty value. For example, while nearly 98 per cent of educators surveyed felt that a journalism degree was very important or extremely important in the ability to gather news, only about 59 per cent of journalists felt so. Finberg rounds up his session with a sneak peek into the Core Skills for the Future of Journalism report (released April 2014), which he co-authored, and which too reveals a

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disconnect between educators and professionals. He ends with an exhortation to be open to change and adapt. Barely has Finberg sat down when Tom Chuang launches into “Credibility and Journalism in the Digital Age.” Wiry and bespectacled, Chuang is the editor of the Dallas Morning News, and he comes across as a calm, methodical man who will give you a prize if you make him smile. Slowly and softly, weighing every word, he explains the three pillars of credibility—seek truth, act independently, and minimise harm—which are guiding principles in the code of ethics of the Society of Professional Journalists in the United States. He then brings up a case study. On the big screen, a multimedia story comes alive, at the end of which, the audience is invited to reflect on the story and examine how faithful it is to the three cardinal principles. “Yolanda’s Crossing” is about a Mexican girl raped by her uncle, and was published in Chuang’s paper in 2006. Now, thousands of miles away, and seven years later, Indian journalists dissect the reportage and voice their opinions in a discussion (“more lively than the one in Chennai,” observes one faculty); it helps that Chuang is a man of few words and adopts a genuinely participatory approach. We have not even reached the first tea break, and Poynter’s pedagogy is winning over Indian journalists.

*** Of the three workshops, the Kochi edition has attracted the most number of applicants and boasts of the most acceptances, but t.he turnout is only marginally higher than at Chennai. Only 75–80 of the 120 expected delegates have turned up. So, there are more than enough snacks to go around. The long queue at the loo is because the air-conditioner was set at 17 degrees Celsius. *** Next up is Casey Frechette, who teaches at Poynter and leads the session here on “Digital Tools and Technology in the Newsroom.” Frechette has to hurry up to cover 59 slides; he wisely skips some of the initial theory-sounding bits, and goes for the tasty bites. He pitches the expanding digital skill-set that is now required (such as writing for the Web, working with plugins and APIs, making games, developing for mobile, and managing social media); some of these are entirely new to some participants, and digital jargon is enough reason to relax and remain indifferent. Frechette then talks about US newsroom hiring and the recruiters’ ads for data journalists, news app developers, engagement editors, and interactive producers. What?! Unfamiliar designations! This is too close for comfort. The bouncer hits even the veterans in the jaw. Is Frechette floating like a butterfly and stinging sabv 2014

(24) like a bee? Nah! He says, “All journalists need to be digital,” puts on his friend-next-door smile, and takes us through five digital trends—short-form video, news games, open data, mobile content, and sharing the work. About each of these trends, he lists the advantages, introduces the tools to make it happen, and gives examples from real-world journalism (like the recent “Travoltify Your Name”). Occasionally, Frechette tosses a question to the audience for discussion. Once, when a participant asks a question about feature writing, Frechette invites a colleague (who has more experience in the genre) to answer it. The non-hierarchical approach to training is an eye-opener. Collaborative teaching delivers maximum value to students. By the time Frechette winds up his session, the audience has warmed up to the digital era. The room temperature too has been raised to a tolerable 20. *** When compared to the food for thought offered, the lunch is spartan. *** For the post-pulao session on “Better Story Ideas and Reporting,” Tom Huang is back in the saddle, and he offers three keys to better stories: brainstorming, planning (big stories), and coaching. Through a brainstorming exercise, he proves again his excellence in participatory education. On planning complex stories, he shares his experience in preparing for the 50th anniversary of the Kennedy assassination (a big story for his Dallas paper). Coaching is uncommon in India, but will probably develop in the coming years. Put simply, it refers to editors engaging in a series of conversations with reporters, to help the reporter gain focus and organise the story, especially in long-duration projects. Chuang advises, “Instead of fixing things at the end, you coach or guide the reporter as the story is being written,” and offers practical tips, such as short outlining, mapping, and visualising. The blast is reserved for the last. The Indian face of the Poynter team looks so Indian that it is difficult to guess which part of the country she belongs to (and she is proud of it). Vidisha Priyanka, it turns out, is originally from Bihar; and what follows is close to a Gangs of Wasseypur on multimedia journalism. It begins with some raw and violent assertions about digital journalism (viewers expect clean audio in broadcast journalism but not in digital; if you are transparent, your viewers are more forgiving of spelling mistakes unlike in print journalism). She narrates how a story progresses in digital during the day, from the time a tiny bit of information reaches the newsroom—a brief article quickly appears, an image gets added in a while, followed by a video clip from the reporter’s mobile phone, plus fresh infographics, and so on. She suggests keeping a checklist handy and planning stories, so that one can quickly use sound, visuals, and action supported by sabv 2014

different elements (like map, mashup, animation, or infographics). The discussion is punctuated with pistol-like shots of online tools useful for producing the different types of content. As if to demonstrate that digital journalism is in a hurry, she suddenly whips out a machine gun and rattles off online tools (from the familiar Google Maps and Storify, through mashups and Meograph, to Dipity, Ustream, and Videolicious). All through the session, the female Rambo speaks clearly, answers queries from workshop participants, and seems determined to produce a few digital journalists by the end of the mission. Finberg takes a photo and tweets “@vidisha71 owns the room talking about multimedia at #PoynterIndia workshop. Lots of teaching.” At least one middleaged print journalist must have been killed that afternoon and reborn as a youthful digital warrior.

Day 2

The nine o’ clock session begins 20 minutes late. Where the wheel of time has been turning for 5,000 years, what is 20 minutes? Sadly, appreciating Indian spirituality is not on the Americans’ agenda that morning. ***

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The first session is on the business side of journalism, and the speaker is Zella Bracy, who works on the business side for the McClatchy Company. Picture a female incarnation of Mogambo with the stock line, “It’s-aaaaaawl about-themoney”. Later in the day, she would reveal her deadly approach to journalism, but for now, she systematically shows the financial trajectory of the print media industry in the US. One of her initial slides makes you sit up—there is a precipitous fall in classified revenue in 2008. “Poof! Five billion dollars of classified revenue vanished,” she says with characteristic drama. From then onward till 2013, how the financial and other indicators changed year by year, is what her talk is largely about. Content consumption grew on the internet, classified advertising shifted to online spaces, Americans began reading news on mobile devices, newspapers went bankrupt, and so on. One of her slides tells us that in 2012, the size of the newspaper industry dipped below 40,000 full-time professionals for the first time since 1978. Bracy also highlights how the newspapers responded to this tsunami caused by recession and technological changes. Each year lessons were learnt, be it the need to monetise traffic, the need to

work with technology than fight it, or the growing importance of social media. The picture one gets is of a dynamic industry that closely watches its performance and customer habits (“data is king”) and responds creatively by experimenting with paywalls, digital ad sales networks, digital marketing agencies, e-commerce, and so on. Perhaps to counterbalance the gloom and doom statistics, the following session is optimistic and grandly titled “Transformational Newsrooms.” To Jeffry Couch, the editor of the Belleville News– Democrat newspaper in southern Illinois, the big picture is clear: strong leadership is key to transforming the newsroom. With a can-do spirit (a trait one notices in all faculty from Poynter), he then dives into the various practical steps one can take to shift from a print-only newsroom to an integrated, print + digital one. Like his name, Couch presents in a relaxed manner—in contrast to the high-energy, gangster teaching of the previous afternoon—but succeeds in motivating the audience towards public service journalism. Narrating the US experience, he advises us to use consumer data, communicate data and ideas regularly with the staff, be patient and relentless, and (perhaps most important for Indian newsrooms today) eliminate the wall between digital and print staff. “All journalists should have digital and print responsibilities,” he believes. *** The workshop is fully sponsored through a grant by the US Consulate. The participants, however, must remain satisfied with a green badge emblazoned “Poynter Alum” and a certificate; the “CIA” tag might come later as a bonus, from journalists who missed the workshop. *** On seeing the title slide (“Editorial–Business Collaboration”) displayed in advance on the giant screen, a local journalist asks, “Shouldn’t we Indians be teaching them this, since we are miles ahead with paid news?” The crowd around him shares the cynicism and laughs. Tom Huang begins the post-lunch with the key message, “Newsrooms must move beyond the traditional firewall between the business side and editorial to generate revenue while maintaining ethical boundaries and building credibility.” As he and Bracy push for editorial–business collaboration, they run up against Indian journalists (what a strange sight!), among whom the murmurs of dissent have by now rolled into thunder claps. A faculty tweets to the world, “Heated debate on whether news/business side can work together without crossing ethical lines #PoynterIndia.” From across the seas, a journalist for the Dallas News (the paper Huang edits) warns: “Watch out that @ tomthuang is a pit bull.” Too late! Once you descend, the aerially green Kerala gives way to a soil red in colour. The faculty see a storm coming but apparently sabv 2014

(26) misread it as part of century-long rivalry between journalists and marketers in media houses. So, on the flip charts, when Indian journalists put “money” and “compromise” under the “bad” category, the visiting faculty try to correct that notion. The participatory style that Huang deploys here again, comes to Indians’ rescue. They describe the phenomenon of paid news in the country (apparently unheard of by the Americans) and draw attention to what the Times of India’s Vineet Jain told the New Yorker: “We are not in the newspaper business, we are in the advertising business.” Huang appears tamed. And thereafter with many of the techniques offered by Huang and Bracy, such as advertorials and event marketing, being familiar to the participants, the session turns bi-directional. Indians speak from experience about the pitfalls of editorial– business “collaboration” while the faculty emphasise ways to maintain a higher standard of ethics. The session is sealed with a Gandhian compromise— there must be collaboration for need, but not for greed. *** When one learns so much in a day, it can be tiring (like reading this article). Time for a tea-break, with cookies, fried Indian snacks, tea, and coffee on the table. ***

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The final session of the day is on “Preparing Journalists for the Future” by Sue Burzynski Bullard, who teaches at the University of Nebraska and is a former managing editor of the Detroit News. The highlight of her talk is the innovative way in which she uses Twitter while teaching journalism students. Writing tight, headline-writing, and lead-writing can be taught by assigning students to cover live events, she points out. Similarly, students can learn to find the focus of a story by interviewing each other and then attempting to summarise in a tweet. Ethical attribution, use of quotes, importance of verification, gathering information—anything seems possible and good on Twitter. Illustrating with examples, she drives home the message that digital tools reinforce traditional journalism skills.

Day 3

Jeffry Couch, true to form, takes a well-rounded session on watchdog journalism. Initially, along with the participants, he discusses why watchdog journalism is important to news organisations. Couch believes in creating a “watchdog culture” in the newsroom, and he shares dozens of actionable tips, including mining public records, learning public record laws, training reporters in data analysis for database journalism, adding watchdog elements to routine daily coverage, creating a resource guide, involving readers in news-hunting,

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and pairing seasoned investigative reporters with inexperienced reporters. One of Couch’s strengths is the leadership wisdom he brings to the workshop. Here are three nuggets: “Hire people who have a watchdog bent,” “Make sure you give reporters and editors the time and encouragement to do watchdog work,” and “Be open to where the facts take you.” Casey Frechette returns with a session on “Teaching (and Learning) New Digital Tools.” The new media landscape is full of unfamiliar or unintelligible acronyms (CSS, PHP, JSON, SQL, for starters). What should journalists know? Should journalism students be taught everything? Frechette does a remarkable job of mapping the terrain for journalists and educators. He delineates three zones: production skills (creating and editing audio, video, photos and graphics), coding skills (frontend [user interface], backend [server], data, content management), and connecting skills (social media and analytics). He then identifies four levels of learning (awareness, knowledge, basic skills, and advanced skills). Using these two axes, he outlines the contours of a digital journalism curriculum. Frechette also gives a lot of specific tips on how to teach digital tools in the classroom and encourages j-schools to specialise in a few areas of their choice. *** African Daisies—white, pink, and yellow—are at the centre of each table. Between them and the participants, are fried Kerala snacks on a white plate. Most attendees are from the home state. But there are also a few from afar, including Delhi, Mumbai, Kolkata, and Pondicherry. As the snacks are crunched guiltlessly, questions fly: “Where can I get good banana chips to take home?” and (pointing to sarkkara upperi) “Tell me, how are these made?” Once, as I fumble for an answer, an exasperated Gauri Vij exclaims, “Men!” Camaraderie blooms when the chips are down. *** Sue Burzynski Bullard’s session on “Ethics in the Digital Age” happens next. She discusses ethical lapses, such as plagiarism, fabrication of quotes, and fake photos, and illustrates how citizens are

affected when journalists race to sensationalise without verifying (“Bag Men: Feds seek these two pictured at Boston Marathon” screamed a headline in a hurry). The class discusses some of the digital age challenges, including copyright. “Data journalism can lead to loss of privacy,” she explains with the example of a New York paper which published a map of gun owners after a school shooting. Does it make the gun owners and their neighbourhoods more secure or less secure? Her various examples have the audience in splits one moment and introspecting the next. She winds up by recommending books and online materials to dig into. *** Outside the hall, the participants pose with the faculty for a group photo. It is a Poynter tradition, says Howard Finberg. Inside, printed certificates of participation are ready, and the participants pick them up on the way in. *** The workshop climaxes with “Finding Focus” by Tom Huang, who begins by saying, “We often know what the news is in a story. We don’t always ask, ‘What is this story truly about?’” Using the example of the movie Titanic, the class then plunges into finding the themes in the story. Love? Rich and poor? Man’s hubris? Unlike the ship, though, the class surfaces back, with creativity and laughter, as Huang leads a couple of lively exercises to find universal themes that resonate with readers. He points out that finding the focus can help to determine how one starts and ends the story. It is time for touchdown and Howard Finberg, who had piloted the workshop into orbit on day one, is called in to bring us back to earth. As he seeks feedback from the participants, I expect the crowd to be tired at the end of three days of non-stop learning, and merely make a few polite noises. The scene is anything but. The energy and enthusiasm of the faculty seem to have infected the audience, as participants cannot stop gushing about their Poynter experience in Kochi. From almost every table in the room, hands are raised, and voices compete to express admiration. Those offering feedback are surrounded by several digital eyes—cameras on mobile phones and iPads. It ain’t sufficient to listen to feedback these days. Audio is passé; video rules. Weaving his way through the audience, a thrilled Finberg is closely followed by Varun Ramesh armed with Canon 7D. He has been recording sessions and interviewing faculty, with plans to release on Youtube his video of the Poynter workshop. The future is in digital, and the Malayali journalist is already there. Ashok R. Chandran is an independent journalist and researcher in Palakkad, Kerala. Visit www. ashokrchandran.com. E-mail: ashokrchandran@gmail.com sabv 2014

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s‑â k‑pl‑r¯‑v‑, ]W‑vU‑nX\‑p‑w c‑mj‑v{‑S‑ob¯‑ne‑p‑w Ieb‑ne‑p‑w k‑vt‑]‑mÀ«‑vk‑ne‑p‑w XÂ¸c\‑pa‑mb _‑nk‑n\Ê‑pI‑mc³‑, h‑o«‑nÂ Bd‑p ]{‑Xh‑p‑w B^‑ok‑nÂ \‑me‑p ]{‑Xh‑p‑w hc‑p¯‑p‑w. \‑me‑p aeb‑mf‑w. a‑q¶‑v C‑w¥‑oj‑v. a‑q¶‑v _‑nk‑n\k‑v. a‑n¡X‑p‑w h‑mb‑n¡‑p‑w. Z‑nhkh‑p‑w H¶c aW‑n¡‑qÀ ]{‑Xh‑mb\b‑nÂ t‑]‑mI‑p‑w. C‑ub‑ns‑S Ft‑¶‑mS‑v ]dª‑p. hÀ½‑mP‑n‑, R‑m\‑n{‑Xb[‑nI‑w ]{‑X‑w h‑mb‑n¡‑p¶‑p. F´‑n\‑m? AÄ«‑nt‑aä‑ve‑n‑, Cs‑X‑mc‑p t‑hÌ‑v H‑m^‑v s‑s‑S‑w At‑Ã? \¶‑mb‑n. \‑n§Ä¡‑v I‑qS‑pXÂ `‑mj Ad‑nb‑m³ ]‑mS‑nÃ‑m¯X‑v. F¦‑nÂ \‑n§Ä¡‑v h«‑p ]‑nS‑nt‑¨t‑\‑w. k‑pl‑r¯‑v N‑nc‑n¨‑p. Ct‑¸‑mÄ ]¯‑p ]{‑Xa‑mb‑n«‑p Xs‑¶ h«‑p hc‑p¶ a«‑mW‑v. AX‑v ]{‑X¯‑ns‑â I‑pg¸aÃ. \‑qd‑mb‑nc‑w Id‑nIÄ c‑pN‑nb‑mb‑n Ig‑n¡‑m³ e`‑ya‑mW‑v. F¶‑p h¨‑v \½Ä Ht‑¶‑m ct‑ï‑m Id‑nb‑nÂ I‑qS‑pXÂ Ig‑n¡‑m³ h‑mi‑n ]‑nS‑n¨‑mt‑e‑m? h‑ni¸‑p a‑mdW‑w. `£W¯‑n\‑v c‑pN‑nb‑p‑w t‑hW‑w. aX‑n. ]{‑X¯‑ns‑â IYb‑p‑w AX‑pt‑]‑ms‑eb‑mW‑v. R‑m³ k‑pl‑r¯‑nt‑\‑mS‑v IY ]dª‑p.

sabv 2014

H¼X‑p hbÊ‑pI‑mc³ `‑oa‑p h‑o«‑ns‑e a‑q¯ ]¿\‑mW‑v. ]‑mS¯‑v AÑt‑\‑ms‑S‑m¸‑w ]W‑n FS‑p¡W‑w. k‑v¡‑qf‑nÂ t‑NÀ¶‑n«‑pï‑v. ]s‑£ hÃt‑¸‑mg‑pt‑a t‑]‑mI‑m³ kab‑w I‑n«‑q. Hc‑p Z‑nhk‑w c‑mh‑ns‑e A½ Hc‑p k©‑nb‑p‑w s‑I‑mS‑p¯‑v Ahs‑\ {‑K‑ma¯‑ns‑e Bs‑I¡‑qS‑nb‑pÅ s‑Nd‑nb ]eNc¡‑pISb‑nt‑e¡‑v I‑pd¨‑p k‑m[\§Ä t‑aS‑n¡‑m\‑mb‑n ]dª‑p h‑n«‑p. IÀkR‑vP‑n I‑m¡‑m F¶‑v FÃ‑mhc‑p‑w h‑nf‑n¡‑p¶ a²‑yhbk‑v¡³ \S¯‑p¶ ISb‑mW‑v. aä‑pÅ {‑K‑mah‑mk‑nIf‑nÂ \‑n¶‑v I‑m¡‑mb‑v¡‑v Hc‑p h‑yX‑y‑mka‑pï‑v. At‑±l‑w ]{‑X‑w h‑mb‑n¡‑p‑w. Pb‑vl‑nµ‑v F¶ K‑pPd‑m¯‑n ]{‑X‑w. `‑oa‑ph‑ns‑â k‑m[\§Ä t‑P‑me‑n¡‑mc³ s‑as‑Ã FS‑p¯‑p s‑I‑mï‑nc‑n¡‑pt‑¼‑mÄ I‑m¡‑m ]{‑Xh‑mb\b‑nÂ a‑pg‑pI‑n Cc‑n¡‑pIb‑mb‑nc‑p¶‑p. `‑oa‑p AS‑p¯‑p s‑N¶‑v ]{‑X¯‑nt‑e¡‑p t‑\‑m¡‑n. Hc‑p a‑mX‑nc‑n K‑pPd‑m¯‑n e‑n]‑n `‑oa‑ph‑n\‑p h‑mb‑n¡‑m‑w. Ct‑¸‑mÄ AÛ‑pX‑w; X\‑n¡d‑nb‑m³ ]‑mS‑nÃ‑m¯‑, ]t‑£ cka‑mb h‑m¡‑pIÄ. k‑v¡‑qf‑ns‑e ]‑pk‑vXI¯‑ns‑\¡‑mÄ ck‑w. `‑oa‑p hfs‑c h‑nja‑n¨‑v he‑nb A£c‑w t‑NÀ¶ h‑m¡‑pIÄ h‑mNIa‑m¡‑n

h‑mb‑n¨‑p. C´‑y cï‑p h‑n¡ä‑n\‑v t‑_‑m‑ws‑_ s‑SÌ‑v h‑nPb‑n¨‑p. C‑u Ad‑nh‑v AÛ‑pXIca‑mb‑nc‑p¶‑p. k‑v¡‑qf‑ns‑e Hc‑p ]‑pk‑vXI¯‑ne‑p‑w t‑I«‑n«‑nÃ‑m¯ Ad‑nh‑v. Ah³ h‑mNI‑w BhÀ¯‑n¨‑p. AX‑v Ae‑v]‑w Dds‑¡b‑mb‑nt‑¸‑mb‑n. s‑]s‑«¶‑v I‑m¡‑m ]{‑X‑w a‑mä‑n Ahs‑\ k‑q£‑n¨‑p t‑\‑m¡‑n t‑N‑mZ‑n¨‑p. FS‑m‑, \‑n\¡‑p h‑mb‑n¡‑m\d‑nb‑m t‑a‑m? `‑oa‑ph‑n\‑v t‑]S‑nb‑mb‑n. Hc‑p I‑pä‑w Iï‑p ]‑nS‑n¡s‑¸« A¦e‑m¸‑v. h‑n¡‑n h‑n¡‑n ]dª‑p. I‑ps‑ds‑È. \‑o k‑v¡‑qf‑nÂ t‑]‑mI‑p¶‑pt‑ï‑m? hÃ‑m¯ t‑N‑mZ‑ya‑mb‑nc‑p¶‑p. t‑]‑mI‑p‑w. ]s‑£ ]‑mS¯‑v ]W‑n..... I‑m¡‑m t‑N‑mZ‑n¨‑p. FS‑m‑, `‑oa‑p‑, \‑o Ft‑¸‑mg‑m k‑v¡‑qf‑nÂ t‑]‑mI‑p¶X‑v? R‑m³ I‑mW‑pt‑¼‑ms‑g‑ms‑¡ \‑ns‑¶ ]‑mS¯‑p ]W‑ns‑bS‑p¡‑p¶X‑v I‑mW‑m‑w. k‑v¡‑qf‑nt‑e¡‑v A©‑p I‑nt‑e‑ma‑oäÀ Z‑qca‑pï‑v. Hc‑p Z‑nhks‑¯ a‑pg‑ph³ ]W‑nb‑mW‑v k‑v¡‑qÄ t‑]‑m¡‑v. Hc‑p ]IÂ ]‑mS¯‑v \‑n¶‑v h‑n«‑p \‑n¶‑mÂ h‑oS‑p ]«‑nW‑nb‑mI‑p‑w. N‑net‑¸‑mÄ \‑me‑p a‑mk‑w I‑qS‑nb‑mb‑nc‑n¡‑p‑w k‑v¡‑qf‑nÂ t‑]‑mI‑m³ ]ä‑pI. Hc‑p {‑_‑mÒW¡‑p«‑n CSb‑v¡‑nSb‑v¡‑v I‑pX‑nc¸‑pd¯‑p Ibd‑n {‑K‑ma¯‑nÂ hc‑p‑w. `‑oa‑ph‑ns‑\ t‑¸‑ms‑eb‑pÅ I‑p«‑nIs‑f A£ca‑me ]T‑n¸‑n¡‑p‑w. `‑oa‑p A§‑ns‑\b‑mW‑v

(29) A£c§Ä H‑mÀ¯‑nc‑p¶X‑v. `‑oa‑p h‑o«‑nt‑e¡‑p t‑]‑mb‑n. c‑m{‑X‑n Dd¡‑w h¶‑nÃ. AS‑p¯ Z‑nhk‑w t‑\s‑c IcR‑vP‑n I‑m¡‑mb‑ps‑S ISb‑nÂ s‑N¶‑p. I‑m¡‑m‑, F\‑n¡‑v I‑m¡‑mb‑ps‑S ]{‑X‑w Xc‑pt‑a‑m? I‑m¡‑mb‑v¡‑v AZ‑v`‑pX‑w. ]{‑Xt‑a‑m? \‑n\t‑¡‑m? Xa‑mi ]db‑pI‑m?

h‑m§‑q. IÀk³ I‑m¡‑m ]W‑w h‑m§‑n. ]s‑£ Hc‑p I‑mc‑y‑w. h‑mb‑n¨‑p Ig‑nª‑v ]{‑X‑w X‑nc‑n¨‑p s‑I‑mï‑p¯cW‑w. `‑oa‑p k½X‑n¨‑p. ]{‑X¯‑n\‑v A£c§Ä¡‑p a‑m{‑XaÃ‑, ISe‑mk‑n\‑p‑w h‑neb‑pï‑v. `‑oa‑p B {‑K‑ma¯‑ns‑e cï‑mas‑¯ ]{‑Xh‑mb\¡‑mc\‑mb‑n.

FÃ‑m ]{‑X§f‑p‑w At‑¸‑mgs‑¯ FÃ‑m {‑][‑m\ h‑mÀ¯If‑p‑w \ÂI‑p‑w. ]s‑£ H‑mt‑c‑m h‑mÀ¯b‑v¡‑p‑w Ahchc‑pt‑SX‑mb s‑]‑mS‑n¸‑p‑w s‑X‑m§e‑p‑w a‑mt‑\P‑vs‑aâ‑ns‑â X‑mÂ¸c‑y§f‑p‑w FU‑nä‑n‑wK‑v s‑Uk‑v¡‑ns‑e Ig‑nh‑p‑w Ig‑nh‑pt‑IS‑p‑w {‑]X‑n^e‑n¡‑p¶ A`‑n{‑]‑mb§f‑p‑w hc‑p‑w. F{‑X ]{‑X‑w h‑mb‑n¡‑p¶‑pt‑h‑m A{‑Xb‑p‑w Ahchc‑pt‑SX‑mb N‑n´If‑p‑w \a‑p¡‑p e`‑n¡‑p‑w. k‑n‑w]‑nf‑mb‑n ]dª‑mÂ \‑m‑w I¬^‑y‑qj\‑ne‑mI‑p‑w. \a‑p¡‑p kX‑y‑w Is‑ï¯‑m\‑mI‑nÃ. \½‑ps‑S N‑n´‑mià‑n D]t‑b‑mKi‑q\‑ya‑mI‑p‑w. AÃ‑, I‑m¡‑m I‑mc‑ya‑mb‑n ]db‑p I‑m. F\‑n¡‑p ]{‑X‑w h‑mb‑n¡W‑w. I‑m¡‑mb‑ps‑S ]{‑X¯‑n\‑v F´‑m h‑ne? Hc‑p AW. `‑oa‑p ]dª‑p. I‑m¡‑m‑, R‑m³ ]{‑X¯‑ns‑â ]I‑pX‑n h‑ne‑, AcbW F¶‑p‑w Xc‑nIb‑ms‑W¦‑nÂ I‑m¡‑m F\‑n¡‑p ]{‑X‑w h‑mb‑n¡‑m³ Xc‑pt‑a‑m? I‑m¡‑m h‑mb‑n¨‑p Ig‑nª‑n«‑p aX‑n. `‑oa‑p AcbW t‑]‑m¡ä‑nÂ \‑ns‑¶S‑p¯‑v \‑o«‑n. C¶s‑¯ ]{‑X¯‑n\‑v. Z‑m‑, CX‑p

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AX‑p‑w Hc‑p ]{‑X‑w a‑m{‑X‑w h‑mb‑n¡‑pI. \a‑p¡d‑nb‑m‑w. FÃ‑m ]{‑X§f‑p‑w At‑¸‑mgs‑¯ FÃ‑m {‑][‑m\ h‑mÀ¯If‑p‑w \ÂI‑p‑w. ]s‑£ H‑mt‑c‑m h‑mÀ¯b‑v¡‑p‑w Ahchc‑pt‑SX‑mb s‑]‑mS‑n¸‑p‑w s‑X‑m§e‑p‑w a‑mt‑\P‑v s‑aâ‑ns‑â X‑mÂ¸c‑y§f‑p‑w FU‑nä‑n‑wK‑v s‑Uk‑v¡‑ns‑e Ig‑nh‑p‑w Ig‑nh‑pt‑IS‑p‑w {‑]X‑n^e‑n¡‑p¶ A`‑n{‑]‑mb§f‑p‑w hc‑p‑w. F{‑X ]{‑X‑w h‑mb‑n¡‑p¶‑pt‑h‑m A{‑Xb‑p‑w Ahchc‑pt‑SX‑mb N‑n´If‑p‑w \a‑p¡‑p e`‑n¡‑p‑w. k‑n‑w]‑nf‑mb‑n ]dª‑mÂ \‑m‑w I¬^‑y‑qj\‑ne‑mI‑p‑w. \a‑p¡‑p kX‑y‑w Is‑ï¯‑m\‑mI‑nÃ. \½‑ps‑S N‑n´‑mià‑n D]t‑b‑mK i‑q\‑ya‑mI‑p‑w. `‑oa‑pP‑n¡‑v ]{‑X‑w h‑mÀ¯b‑ps‑S t‑k‑mg‑vk‑v a‑m{‑Xa‑mW‑v. A`‑n{‑]‑mb¯‑ns‑â t‑k‑mg‑vkÃ. K‑mÔ‑nP‑n ]dª Hc‑p IYb‑pï‑v. Hc‑p ]‑m{‑X¯‑nÂ A¼X‑p U‑n{‑K‑n N‑qS‑pÅ s‑hÅ‑w hb‑v¡‑pI. \‑m‑w he¯‑p s‑s‑I Fg‑p]X‑p U‑n{‑K‑n N‑qS‑pÅ s‑hÅ¯‑nÂ a‑p¡‑nb‑n«‑v C‑u ]‑m{‑X¯‑nÂ hb‑v¡‑pI. AX‑pt‑]‑ms‑e CSX‑p s‑s‑I a‑p¸X‑p U‑n{‑K‑n XW‑p¸‑pÅ s‑hÅ¯‑nÂ a‑p¡‑nb‑n«‑v Ct‑X s‑hÅ¯‑nÂ hb‑v¡‑pI. heX‑p s‑s‑I ]db‑p‑w s‑hÅ¯‑n\‑v hÃ‑m¯ XW‑p¸‑v. CSX‑p s‑s‑I ]db‑p‑w. hÃ‑m¯ N‑qS‑v. kX‑y‑w a‑q¶‑mat‑¯X‑mW‑v. Ht‑c kX‑y¯‑n\‑v a‑q¶‑p a‑pJ‑w. ]s‑£ C‑u kX‑y‑w Fs‑´¶‑v Iï‑p]‑nS‑n¡‑m\‑pÅ \½‑ps‑S Ig‑nh‑ns‑\ CÃ‑mX‑m¡‑pIb‑mW‑v ]{‑X§Ä s‑N¿‑p¶X‑v. Ch‑ns‑Sb‑mW‑v `‑oa‑p Xt‑âX‑mb s‑s‑ie‑n Iï‑p ]‑nS‑n¨X‑v. \a‑p¡‑p k‑nÌs‑¯ a‑mä‑m³ ]ä‑nÃ. ]{‑X§f‑ps‑S {‑]hÀ¯\s‑s‑ie‑nb‑p‑w a‑mä‑m³ ]ä‑pI‑nÃ. k‑z´‑w Bhi‑y¯‑n\‑pÅ h‑mÀ¯IÄ Ad‑nbW‑w. AX‑p aX‑n. AX‑n\‑v Hc‑p ]{‑X‑w a‑m{‑X‑w h‑mb‑n¨‑mÂ aX‑n. AX‑ns‑e ]{‑X¡‑mc‑ps‑S A`‑n{‑]‑mb‑w I‑m«‑p¶ s‑]‑mS‑n¸‑pIÄ \a‑p¡‑v s‑FUâ‑ns‑s‑^ s‑N¿‑m³ k‑m[‑n¡‑p‑w. Ahc‑ps‑S s‑s‑I¸¯‑n Fh‑ns‑S a‑p¡‑nbX‑mb‑me‑p‑w \a‑p¡‑p {‑]kàaÃ. Fs‑â k‑pl‑r¯‑v IY t‑I«‑v ]dª‑p. Hc‑p t‑]‑mbâ‑pï‑v. R‑m\‑p‑w Hc‑p ]{‑X‑w a‑m{‑Xa‑m¡‑nb‑mt‑e‑m? t\mhenÌpw ho£Ww ap³ No^v FUnädpamWv teJI³. teJIsâ Cþsabvð: varma.klmohana@gmail.com sabv 2014

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sP-dm-Uv t_-¡À

tP-W-en-kw a-cn-¡nñ, AXn-\v a-l¯m-b `m-hn-bpïvv ]-{‑X-§-f‑p-s‑S a-c-W-s‑¯-I‑p-d‑n-¨‑m-W‑v F§‑p‑w NÀ-¨. ]-{‑X-{‑]-hÀ-¯-\‑w-X-s‑ó A-h-k‑m-\‑n-¡‑p-I-b‑m-W‑v F-ó a-«‑n-e‑p-Å A-i‑p-` N‑n-´-IÄ-¡‑v H-c‑p {‑]-k-à‑n-b‑p-a‑n-s‑ñó‑v‑, ]-{‑X-{‑]-N‑m-c‑w G-ä-h‑p-t‑as‑d I‑p-d-b‑p-ó A-t‑a-c‑n-¡-b‑nð \‑n-ó‑p-t‑]‑me‑p‑w h‑y-àa‑m-b k-t‑µ-i-§Ä e-`‑n-¡‑pó‑p. ]-{‑X-§Ä h‑m-§‑n-¡‑q-«‑m³ i-Xt‑I‑m-S‑o-i‑z-c-ò‑mÀ C-t‑¸‑mg‑p‑w a‑pó‑n-«‑n-d-§‑p-ó-s‑X-´‑p-s‑I‑m-ï‑v? h‑mÄ-k‑v-{‑S‑o-ä‑v t‑P-W-e‑n-s‑â F-U‑n-äÀ C³ N‑o-^‑v B-b s‑P-d‑m-U‑v t‑_-¡À t‑N‑m-Z‑n-¡‑p-ó‑p. PÀ-a³ h‑mÀ-¯‑m-h‑m-c‑n-Ib‑m-b UÀ k‑v-]‑o-P-e‑n-\‑v A-t‑±l‑w \ðI‑n-b A-`‑n-a‑p-J‑w h‑m-b‑n¡‑pI

kv]o

-PÂ-: a‑n-ÌÀ t‑_-¡À‑, A-t‑§b-‑v¡‑v s‑N-d‑p¸-¡‑m-c‑n-If‑mb A-©‑v s‑]¬-a-¡-f‑pï‑v. A-h-t‑c‑m-S‑v P‑o-h‑n-X-¯‑nÂ t‑P-W-e‑n-k‑w k‑z‑o-I-c‑n-¡‑m³ D-]-t‑Zi‑n¡‑p-t‑a‑m? t‑_-¡À: DÆ‑v‑, R‑m³ D-]-t‑Z-i‑n-¡‑p‑w. C-X‑ne‑p‑w a-l¯‑m-b \‑n-t‑b‑m-K-a‑p-Å t‑h-s‑d t‑P‑m-e‑n-IÄ Gs‑d-b‑nÃ. t‑P-W-e‑n-k-¯‑n\‑v a-l¯‑m-b `‑m-h‑n-b‑pï‑v‑, k-a‑q-l-¯‑nÂ A-h‑n-i‑z-k-\‑o-ba‑mb a‑q-e‑y-a‑p-ï‑v. k‑v-]‑o-PÂ: ]{‑X-§-f‑ps‑S {‑]-N‑m-ch‑p‑w ]-c-k‑y-h-c‑p-a‑m-\h‑p‑w hÀ-j-§-f‑m-b‑n t‑i‑m-j‑n-¨‑p-h-c‑n-I-b‑mW‑v‑, {‑]-t‑X‑y-I‑n-¨‑p‑w At‑a-c‑n¡b‑nÂ. i-X-t‑I‑m-S‑o-i‑z-c-·‑mÀ-¡‑v a‑m-{‑X-t‑a C-¡‑me-¯‑v \‑y‑q-k‑v-t‑]-¸À h‑y-h-k‑m-b-¯‑nÂ X‑mÂ-]-c‑y-a‑pÅ‑p: B-a-t‑k‑mW‑n-s‑â s‑P-^‑v s‑_-t‑k‑m-k‑v h‑m-j‑n-M‑v-S¬ t‑]‑m-k‑v-ä‑v h‑m-§‑n¨‑p‑, \‑n-t‑£-]-I\‑mb t‑P‑m¬ s‑l³{‑S‑n t‑_‑m-k‑v-ä¬ t‑¥‑m-_‑v h‑n-e-s‑¡-S‑p¯‑p‑, h‑m-d³ _‑p-s‑^-ä‑m-s‑W-¦‑nÂ {‑]‑m-t‑Zi‑n-I ]-{‑X§Ä U-k³-I-W-¡‑n-e‑m-W‑v h‑m-§‑n-¡‑q-«‑p-¶X‑v. t‑_-¡À: t‑P-W-e‑n-k‑w a-c‑n-¡‑p-¶ _‑n-k‑n-\-Ê-s‑Ã-¶‑v A-hc‑p-s‑S \‑n-t‑£-]-§Ä X-s‑¶ s‑X-f‑n-b‑n-¡‑p¶‑p. h‑mÀ-¯-b‑nÂ a‑qe‑y-a‑p-s‑ï¶‑p‑w `‑m-h‑n U‑n-P‑n-äÂ B-s‑W¶‑p‑w A-hÀ X‑n-c‑n-¨-d‑nb‑p¶‑p. H-c‑p Z‑n-\-]-{‑Xh‑p‑w A-¨-S‑n-b‑nÂ \‑n-¶‑v U‑n-P‑n-ä-e‑n-t‑e-¡‑v A-t‑X-c‑o-X‑n-b‑nÂ A-X‑n-P‑oh‑n-¡‑nÃ. N‑ne-X‑v A-X‑n-P‑o-h‑n-¡‑pIt‑b CÃ. A-X‑n-s‑â AÀ-°‑w t‑P-W-e‑n-k‑w X-s‑¶ \-i‑n-¡‑p‑w F¶Ã. t‑\-s‑c-a-d‑n-¨‑v B-{‑i-b‑n-¡‑m-h‑p¶ h‑n-h-c-§Ä-¡‑v C-¶-s‑¯-t‑¸‑m-s‑e U‑n-a‑m³-U‑v a‑p-s‑¼-¶‑p-a‑p-ï‑m-b‑n-«‑nÃ. A-h‑ns‑S ]-W-a‑p-ï‑m-¡‑m³ Ahkc-a‑p-s‑ï-¶‑v C-âÀ-s‑\-ä‑v A-{‑K-K‑ma‑nb‑m-b s‑P-^‑v _‑o-t‑k‑m-k‑v h‑n-i‑z-k‑n-¡‑p-¶-X‑nÂ I‑m-c‑y-a‑pï‑v. k‑v-]‑o-PÂ: C‑u ]‑pX‑n-b a‑m-[‑y-a-{‑]-`‑p-¡-·‑mÀ t‑{‑S‑m-^‑n-

sabv 2014

IÄ-¡‑p-t‑hï‑nt‑b‑m AÂ-]‑w k‑z‑m-[‑o-\-¯‑n-\‑p-t‑hï‑nt‑b‑m s‑a-¨-s‑¸-« {‑]-X‑nO‑m-b D-ï‑m¡‑mt‑\‑m AÃ {‑i-a‑n-¡‑p-¶-s‑X-¶‑v D-d-¸‑p-t‑ï‑m? t‑_-¡À: s‑_-t‑k‑m-k‑ns‑â-t‑b‑m- _-^‑vä‑ns‑ât‑b‑m D-t‑±-ie-£‑y-§Ä X‑oÀ-¨-b‑mb‑p‑w F-\‑n-¡-d‑n-b‑nÃ. ]-t‑£ A-hÀ ]-d-b‑p¶-X‑v R‑m³ {‑i-²‑n-¡‑m-d‑pï‑v‑, A-hÀ ]-d-b‑p¶-X‑v h‑n-i‑zk‑n-¡‑p-Ib‑p‑w s‑N-¿‑p¶‑p. s‑]‑m-§-¨-¯‑n-\‑p-t‑hï‑nt‑b‑m k‑m-¼¯‑n-t‑I-X-c k-t‑´‑m-j-§Ä-¡‑v t‑hï‑nt‑b‑m AÃ A-h-c‑n-X‑v s‑N-¿‑p-¶-X‑v. k‑v-]‑o-PÂ: G-g‑v hÀ-j‑w a‑p-s‑¼ _‑m-t‑{‑¦‑m-^‑v-ä‑v I‑p-S‑p‑w-_¯‑nÂ \‑n-¶‑v h‑mÄ-k‑v-{‑S‑o-ä‑v t‑P-WÂ h‑n-eb‑v-¡‑v h‑m§‑n-b d‑q-¸ÀS‑v aÀ-U-¡‑nÂ \‑n-¶‑v F§-s‑\-b‑m-W‑v ]‑p-X‑p-X-ea‑p-d ]-{‑X-D-S-aIÄ h‑y-X‑y-k‑v-X-c‑m-I‑p¶X‑v? t‑_-¡À: A-X‑v e-f‑n-X-a‑m-W‑v. 60 hÀ-j-¯‑n-t‑e-s‑d-¡‑m-e-a‑mb‑n aÀU-¡‑v t‑P-W-e‑n-k-¯‑nÂ h³-t‑X‑m-X‑nÂ \‑n-t‑£-]‑n-¡‑p¶‑pï‑v‑, A-X‑v H-c‑p hÀ-j‑w a‑m-{‑XaÃ. t‑]‑m-s‑c-¦‑nÂ A-t‑±-l¯‑n-\‑v _‑n-k‑n-\-Ê‑nÂ h‑n-P-b-¯‑n-s‑â {‑S‑m-¡‑v s‑d-t‑¡‑mÀ-U‑pï‑v. A-X‑v \‑n-c-´-ca‑m-b I-½‑n-ä‑v-s‑aâ‑m-W‑v. k‑v-]‑o-PÂ: I-¼-\‑n-b‑p-s‑S k‑v-{‑S‑m-ä-P‑n-b‑p-a‑m-b‑n H¯‑p-t‑]‑m-I‑p¶‑nÃ F-¶ t‑]-c‑nÂ A-t‑±-l‑w 33 {‑]‑m-t‑Z-i‑n-I-]-{‑X-§Ä h‑nä‑p. h‑mÄ-k‑v-{‑S‑o-ä‑v t‑P-WÂ F-{‑X-I‑m-e‑w \‑y‑q-k‑v t‑I‑mÀ-]‑n-s‑â k‑v-{‑S‑mä-P‑n-b‑p-a‑m-b‑n H¯‑p-t‑]‑m-I‑p‑w? F-s‑´‑m-s‑¡ ]-d-ª‑me‑p‑w aÀU¡‑v C-X‑n\-I‑w X-s‑¶ I‑q-S‑p-XÂ e‑m-`-I-ca‑m-b S‑n-h‑n‑, ^‑ne‑n‑w _‑n-k‑n-\-Ê‑p-IÄ C-X‑nÂ \‑n-¶‑v t‑hÀ-s‑]-S‑p-¯‑n-¡-g‑nª‑p. t‑_-¡À: h‑mÄ-k‑v-{‑S‑o-ä‑v t‑P-We‑p‑w U‑u t‑P‑m¬-k‑p‑w- I-¼\‑n-b‑p-s‑S -t‑I-{‑µ-Ø‑m]\-§-f‑m-s‑W-¶‑v a-ÀU-¡‑v X-s‑¶ ]-ck‑y-a‑m-b‑n ]-eh-«‑w ]-d-ª‑n-«‑pï‑v. R-§-f‑p-s‑S s‑s‑h-]‑p-e‑yh‑p‑w

(31) B-t‑K‑m-f-{‑]‑m-]‑v-X‑nb‑p‑w s‑I‑mï‑v R-§-f‑mW‑v C‑u 900 t‑I‑m-S‑n t‑U‑m-fÀ I-¼-\‑n-b‑p-s‑S \-s‑«Ã‑v F-¶‑v R‑m³ ]-d-b‑p‑w. k‑v-]‑o-PÂ: d‑p-¸À-S‑v aÀU-¡‑v F-§-s‑\-b‑mW‑v h‑mÄ-k‑v-{‑S‑o-ä‑v t‑P-W-e‑n-s‑\ a‑m-ä‑n-bX‑v? t‑_-¡À: R-§Ä C-t‑¸‑mÄ s‑a-¨-s‑¸-« h‑mÀ-¯‑m-]-{‑Xa‑mW‑v. R-§-f‑p-s‑S {‑]‑m-]‑v-X‑n h‑n-I-k‑n-¸‑n¨‑p‑, R-§Ä c‑m-{‑ã‑obh‑p‑w k‑v-t‑]‑mÀ-S‑vk‑p‑w h‑n-t‑\‑m-Zh‑p‑w ^‑m-j\‑p‑w k‑m‑w-k‑v-I‑m-c‑n-Ih‑mÀ-¯-If‑p‑w I-hÀ s‑N-¿‑p¶-X‑v I‑q-S‑n DÄ-s‑¸-S‑p¯‑n. ]‑pX‑n-b h‑n-`‑m-K-§f‑p‑w H-c‑p a‑m-K-k‑n\‑p‑w R-§Ä I‑q-«‑n-t‑¨À¯‑p. _‑n-k‑n\k‑v‑, [-\-I‑m-c‑y t‑a-J-e-I-f‑n-s‑e R-§-f‑p-s‑S t‑I-{‑µià‑n \‑n-e-\‑nÀ-¯‑n-s‑¡‑m-ï‑m-W‑nX‑v. h-c‑n-¡‑m-c‑p-s‑S A-S‑n¯-d hf-c‑p-I-b‑mW‑v. H¸‑w X-s‑¶ R-§-f‑p-s‑S d‑n-t‑¸‑mÀ-«‑n-§‑v I‑q-S‑p-XÂ {‑i-²-t‑I-{‑µ‑o-I‑r-X-a‑mb‑n‑, I‑q-S‑p-XÂ k-a‑o-]-Ø-a‑mb‑n‑, R§Ä R-§-f‑p-s‑S t‑Ì‑m-d‑nI-s‑f I‑q-S‑p-XÂ P‑o-h-\‑p-ÅX‑p‑w {‑]‑m-]‑y-h‑pa‑m-¡‑n a‑mä‑n. t‑P-W-e‑nÂ ]-ï‑v ]-X‑n-h‑m-b‑n-c‑p-¶ k‑p-Z‑oÀ-L-t‑eJ-\-§-f‑p-s‑S F-®‑w I‑p-d-¨‑p. k‑v-]‑o-PÂ: AX‑p-s‑I‑m-ï‑m-W‑v aÀU-¡‑v G-s‑ä-S‑p-¯-t‑i-j‑w t‑P-W-e‑n-\‑v s‑hd‑p‑w c-ï‑v ]‑p-e‑n-ä‑v-kÀ s‑s‑{‑]-k‑p-IÄ a‑m{‑X‑w I‑n«‑m³ I‑mc-W‑w F-¶‑v h‑n-aÀ-i-IÀ ]-d-b‑p‑w. t‑_-¡À: t‑P-W-e‑n-s‑â h‑nP-b‑w ]‑p-e‑n-ä‑v-kÀ s‑s‑{‑]-k‑p-If‑p-s‑S F-®‑w s‑h-¨‑v A-f-¡‑m³ R‑m³ X-¿‑mdÃ. R-§-f‑p-s‑S t‑P-W-e‑n-k-¯‑n-s‑â K‑p-W-\‑n-e-h‑mc-s‑¯ I‑p-d‑n-¨‑v A-s‑X‑m¶‑p‑w ]-d-b‑p-¶‑nÃ.

f‑n-X‑n-s‑\ ]-c‑n-l-k‑n¨‑p. ]-t‑£‑, Ct‑¸‑mÄ t‑PWe‑p‑w ]-c-k‑y¡‑mÀ-¡‑v \Â-I‑p¶-X‑v C-X‑p-X-s‑¶-b‑mW‑v. F-´‑n-\‑m-W‑v \‑n-§f‑p‑w s‑N¿‑p-¶X‑v? t‑_-¡À: A-X‑nÂ B-]-Õ‑m-[‑y-X-b‑p-s‑ï-¶‑m-b‑n-c‑p-¶‑p R‑m³ ]-d-ªX‑v. ]‑pX‑n-b h-c‑p-a‑m-\-§Ä-¡‑m-b‑p-Å A-t‑\‑z-jW-§Ä-¡‑n-S-b‑nÂ ]-c-k‑y-¯‑n-\‑p‑w ]-{‑X-{‑]-hÀ-¯-\-¯‑n\‑p‑w C-S-b‑n-s‑e A-X‑n-c‑p-IÄ a‑mª‑p-t‑]‑m-I‑p-s‑a-¶‑m-b‑n-c‑p-¶‑p R‑m³ ]-d-ªX‑v. R-§f-X‑v s‑N-b‑v-X‑n-«‑p-s‑ï-¦‑nÂ R-§Ä-¡‑v h‑n-i‑z‑mk‑y-Xb‑p‑w h‑m-b-\-¡‑mc‑p‑w \-ã-a‑m-I‑p‑w. k‑v-]‑o-PÂ: ]t‑£ "t‑\-ä‑o-h‑v A-U‑zÀ-s‑s‑S-k‑n§‑v' F-¶X‑pX-s‑¶ A-X‑n-c‑p-IÄ a‑m-b‑v-¡‑p-¶-X‑nÂ A-[‑n-ã‑n-X-a‑mW‑v. A-s‑X‑m-c‑p h-g‑p-¡‑p-¶ s‑N-c‑n-h‑p-{‑]-t‑Z-i-a‑m-s‑W-¶‑v \‑n-§Ä-¡‑v B-i¦ t‑X‑m-¶‑p-¶‑nt‑Ã? t‑_-¡À: CÃ‑, A-X‑v ]-c-k‑ya‑mt‑W‑m t‑P-WÂ \Â-I‑p-¶ h‑n-h-ca‑mt‑W‑m F-¶‑v h‑m-b-\-¡‑mÀ-¡‑v B-i-¦-b‑nÃ‑m¯‑n-St‑¯‑mf‑w I‑me‑w. I‑r-X‑y-a‑mb‑p‑w A-§-s‑\-b‑m-W‑v R-§f-X‑v s‑s‑I-I‑mc‑y‑w s‑N-¿‑p-¶X‑v. B t‑hÀ-X‑n-c‑n-h‑nÂ R-§Ä a-§-e‑p-

k‑v-]‑o-PÂ: s‑P-^‑v s‑_-t‑k‑m-k‑v h-¶-t‑X‑m-s‑S h‑m-j‑n-M‑v-S¬ t‑]‑m-k‑v-ä‑n-s‑â k‑m-¼-¯‑n-I-t‑ij‑n hÀ-²‑n¨‑p. A-X‑v \‑n-§-Ä-¡‑v ]-c‑n-{‑`a‑w D-ï‑m-¡‑p-¶‑pt‑ï‑m? t‑_-¡À: CÃ‑, s‑_-t‑k‑m-k‑n-s‑\ t‑]‑m-e‑p-Å h‑n-P-b‑n-If‑mb U‑n-P‑n-äÂ A-{‑K-K‑m-a‑n-IÄ t‑P-W-e‑n-k-¯‑nÂ h‑n-i‑z‑m-k-a‑p-s‑ï¶‑v s‑X-f‑n-b‑n-¡‑p¶-X‑v R-§Ä-¡‑v \Ã-X‑mW‑v. \‑y‑q-k‑v t‑]-¸À _‑n-k‑n-\-Ê‑n-\‑v `‑m-h‑n-b‑n-s‑Ã-¶‑v ]d-ª‑v F-g‑p-X‑n-¯Å‑n-b \‑n-t‑£]-I-k-a‑q-l-¯‑n-e‑p-Åh-s‑c ]-{‑X-§-f‑nÂ \‑n-t‑£]‑n-¡‑p¶-X‑v \Ã-X‑m-s‑W-¶‑v h‑n-i‑z-k‑n-¸‑n-¡‑p-a‑m-b‑n-c‑n-¡‑p‑w. R-§-s‑fÃ‑m-hc‑p‑w C-¡‑m-c‑y-¯‑nÂ s‑_-t‑k‑mk‑n-t‑\‑m-S‑v \-µ‑n ]-d-t‑b-ï-X‑mW‑v. C-X‑v H-c‑p ]-g-¦-ª‑n{‑]-t‑b‑m-K-a‑m-s‑W-¶‑v t‑X‑m-¶‑p-s‑a-¦‑n-e‑p‑w‑, t‑I‑m‑w-]-ä‑o-j³ \Ã-X‑mW‑v‑, A-X‑v R§-s‑f k-Ö-c‑m-¡‑n \‑nÀ-¯‑p‑w‑, d‑n-t‑¸‑mÀ-«À-a‑m-s‑c X‑o{‑h-t‑a‑m-l-§-f‑p-Åh-c‑m-¡‑n a‑m-ä‑p‑w. k‑v-]‑o-PÂ: _‑nk‑n\-k‑v C³-s‑s‑kUÀ‑, s‑]‑m-f‑n-ä‑n-t‑¡‑m‑, Z CâÀ-s‑k-]‑vä‑v t‑]‑m-e‑p-Å {‑]-k‑n-²‑o-I-c-W-§Ä s‑R-«‑n-¡‑p-¶ h‑mÀ-¯-IÄ t‑{‑_-¡‑v s‑N-¿‑p¶‑p‑, H-c‑p a-Ì‑vþd‑o-U‑v ]{‑X‑w F-¶ \‑n-e-b‑nÂ t‑P‑m-W-e‑n-\‑p-ï‑m-b‑n-c‑p-¶ Ø‑m-\‑w \‑n-e-\‑nÀ-¯‑m³ C-t‑¸‑mÄ {‑]-b‑m-k-a‑m-h‑p-¶‑pt‑ï‑m? t‑_-¡À: A-h-c‑nÂ N‑n-eÀ \Ã t‑Ì‑m-d‑n-I-f‑m-W‑v {‑]-k‑n-²‑oI-c‑n-¡‑p-¶X‑v. ]t‑£‑, \‑n-X‑y-h‑p‑w \‑n-a‑n-j‑w-t‑X‑md‑p‑w t‑P-W-e‑nÂ {‑]-X‑y-£-s‑¸-S‑p-¶ t‑Ì‑m-d‑n-I-f‑p-s‑S K‑p-W-\‑n-e-h‑m-c‑w R‑m-\‑nX‑v h-s‑c A-h-c‑nÂ B-c‑ne‑p‑w I-ï‑n-«‑nÃ. A-h-c‑nÂ N‑n-eÀ-¡‑v \Ã {‑S‑m-^‑n-¡‑p-a‑p-ï‑v, ]t‑£‑, \‑n-X‑yh‑p‑w t‑P-WÂ {‑]‑nâ‑ne‑p‑w ]-{‑X-c‑q-]-¯‑ne‑p‑w h‑m-b‑n-¡‑m³ ]-W‑w a‑p-S-¡‑p-¶ 20 e-£-¯‑nt‑e-s‑d h‑m-b-\-¡‑mc‑pï‑v. C¯-c‑w t‑{‑]-£-IÀ-¡‑p- t‑h-ï‑n-b‑mW‑v ]-c-k‑y-¡‑mÀ ]-W‑w a‑p-S-¡‑p-¶-X‑v. k‑v-]‑o-PÂ: I-g‑n-ª B-d‑v hÀ-j-¯‑n-\‑n-S-b‑nÂ A-t‑ac‑n-¡³ ]-{‑X-§Ä-¡‑v 50 i-X-a‑m-\-¯‑n-t‑e-s‑d ]-c-k‑y-h-c‑p-a‑m\‑w \-ã-a‑mb‑n. ]-c-k‑y-¡‑mÀ-¡‑m-s‑W-¦‑n-Â A-h-I‑m-i-t‑_‑m-[‑w I‑q-S‑p-Ib‑p‑w s‑N-b‑vX‑p. G-äh‑p‑w ]‑pX‑n-b s‑{‑S³-U‑n-s‑â t‑]c‑v "t‑\-ä‑o-h‑v A-U‑zÀ-s‑s‑S-k‑n§‑v' F-¶‑m-W‑v þ ]-{‑X-h‑mÀ-¯I-s‑f t‑]‑m-s‑e-b‑n-c‑n-¡‑p-¶ ]-c-k‑y§Ä. B-d‑v a‑m-k‑w a‑p-s‑¼ \‑n-§-

s‑P-d‑m-U‑v t‑_-¡À

ï‑m-¡‑p-¶‑p F-¶‑v BÀ-s‑¡-¦‑ne‑p‑w h‑m-Z‑n-¡‑m-s‑a¶‑p‑w R‑m³ I-c‑p-X‑p-¶‑nÃ. k‑v-]‑o-PÂ: `‑q-a‑n-I‑p-e‑p¡-s‑¯ ]-ä‑n H-c‑p b-{‑´-a-\‑p-j‑y³ B-Z‑y-a‑m-b‑n h‑mÀ-¯-s‑b-g‑p-X‑n F-¶ \‑n-e-b‑nÂ t‑e‑m-k‑v B-R‑vP-e‑o-k‑v s‑s‑S‑wk‑v C‑u-b‑n-s‑S h‑mÀ-¯ k‑r-ã‑n¨‑p. _‑n-k‑n-\-k‑v d‑n-t‑¸‑mÀ-«‑n-§‑nÂ t‑d‑m-t‑_‑mþt‑P-W-e‑n-k-¯‑n-\‑v hÃ k‑m-[‑y-X-b‑pa‑p-t‑ï‑m? t‑_-¡À: a-\‑p-j‑y-s‑â _‑p-²‑n-t‑b-¡‑mÄ I‑r-{‑X‑n-a-_‑p-²‑n¡‑v _‑p-²‑n-b‑p-ï‑mI‑p‑w F¶‑v ]-e i‑m-k‑v-{‑X-Ú³-a‑mc‑p‑w F{‑Xt‑b‑m I‑m-e-a‑m-b‑n {‑]-h-N‑n-¡‑p-¶‑pï‑v. A-X‑v I‑u-X‑p-I-I-ca‑mb H-c‑p B-i-b-a‑mW‑v. FÃ‑m I‑m-c‑y-§f‑p‑w k‑m-[‑y-a‑m-¡‑p-¶ t‑hK-¯‑nÂ BÀ-S‑n-^‑n-j‑yÂ Câ-e‑n-P³-k‑v ]‑p-t‑c‑m-K-a‑n-¡‑p-¶‑pï‑v. ]-X‑n-h‑v h‑n-h-c-§Ä ]-eX‑p‑w t‑d‑m-t‑_‑m-«‑n-I‑v B-b‑n h‑n-\‑na-b‑w s‑N-¿‑m-h‑p-¶-t‑X-b‑pÅ‑p. ]t‑£‑, k-a‑o-]-`‑m-h‑nb‑n-s‑e‑m¶‑p‑w H-c‑p a-\‑p-j‑y-P‑o-h‑n-b‑p-s‑S h‑n-[‑n-s‑b-g‑p¯‑n\‑p‑w h‑n-h-c¯‑n\‑p‑w ]I-c‑w s‑h-¡‑m-h‑p-¶ H¶‑p‑w D-ï‑m-h‑p-s‑a-¶‑v F-\‑n-¡‑v t‑X‑m-¶‑p-¶‑nÃ.

h‑nh: _‑m-e-c‑ma³ sabv 2014

(32) Studentsâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; Corner

J. V. Vilâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;anilam

Dysfunctions of the Media

By offering misleading advice, conferring status, benumbing viewers, and overloading information, the media not only fulfil their functions but also generate dysfunctions.

harles Wright was the first to propound the theory that there were dysfunctions of mass communication.

Ethicisation

This is a phenomenon peculiar to mass communication. The mass media have taken over the functions of the elders in the family, such as parents, aunts and uncles, elder brothers, and elder sisters. Also, elders in society, such as priests and senior leaders of the community, have become inactive these days in the matter of counselling the youngsters in matters relating to growing up and interacting with the opposite sex. A lot of wanted and unwanted advice is given through the columns of newspapers and through the so-called expert sessions on television and radio. Medical advice given freely by the media often misleads many teenagers who are prone to think that they have the extraordinary sexual problems which the media highlight. Family and educational counselling has been replaced

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by advice columns in the print media and special programmes in the electronic media. Thus, mediated ethicisation, or the mediaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s practice of setting ethical standards or norms of behaviour, has become a problem rather than a solution. Wright calls it a dysfunction of mass communication.

Status Conferral

People appearing in the media, either for good or for bad reasons, may feel a certain egosatisfaction of having appeared in the public sphere and gained public attention. Sometimes they get a wrong sense of their selfimportance. The media may put some down; they may put some others up. This can happen by chance or by deliberate action. The ones that appear in the media gain some notoriety or fame. This practice is termed status conferral.

Narcotisation

Some psychologists and sociologists are of the view that the heavy dosage of negative news, including those of murders,

rapes, and robberies, reeled off at every newscast or presented on the front page of every newspaper, will over a period make media users immune to the shock of such deviant action by wrongdoers. Similarly, portrayal of violence in movies and serials makes viewers benumbed and insensitive in the long run to such aberrations. This psychological phenomenon is called narcotisation. This is a universal problem in the media. Media users all over the world watch a large number of deaths, murders, arson, fires, attacks on women, and gruesome killings in movies and serials. They also read about them in newspapers and magazines, including graphic and pornographic details. Some reality shows in the West include clips of scantily clothed women being mauled and bruised by animals, including humans with animal instincts. Nearly-naked girls and women are dismembered by tigers and lions. Some real events have occurred in forests and deserted places and reality TV producers lie in ambush for such events. Such mayhem is grist for the media mills these days. Viewers naturally watch the most obscene and brutal scenes often, and they become narcotised or

(33) drugged and hence insensitive to real-life accidents and tragedies.

Misinformation/ Disinformation

Millions are misled by silly and serious errors, and wrong information about people, countries, and issues. At a minor level, one can point out how some TV presenters ignore “good, standard English pronunciation”; some of them pronounce the word “pro-nun-cia-tion” as “pronoun-ciation”! What a big irony. Media mistakes are carried to millions in a trice and people are misled instantaneously. On rare occasions, there are sustained disinformation

campaigns, especially during election time. During the early days of the 2008 presidential election campaign in the United States, Barack Obama was portrayed as a Muslim with terrorist connections; it was not difficult for TV humourists to see the similarity between Obama and Osama (bin Laden). Even a few days before the election day, many Americans carried in their heads wrong impressions about their future President.

Information Overload

Finally, there is “information overload”, which leaves media users confused. Some newspapers are not “news-papers” but “ads-

papers.” More than 50–60 per cent of their space is filled with ads. Some U.S. newspapers are heavy tomes, especially during weekends, running into 200–500 pages in 20–30 sections, such as World News, Domestic News, Travel, Tourism, Classifieds, Celebrities, Cinema, and Entertainment. Can any reader finish reading such newspapers at one go?! On TV, there are at least 300 channels to choose from. The viewers select one channel and go on switching to other channels, not for different types of serious information but sports, entertainment, serials, and trivia. Like a bee flitting from flower to

flower, the viewers indulge in the fanciful behaviour of “channel surfing” and get loaded with more than what their minds can normally assimilate. In fact, many viewers are not effectively served by such “surfing”; they are just overloaded by wanted and unwanted information, mixtures of images and streams of news of events and issues at the bottom of the screen—news that has no relation to what the newscaster talks about at any given moment. The unwary viewer is confused by all this din and bustle, and this perplexing medley of images and bottom lines. Everything is further confused by some vignettes of

product ads peeping through a corner of the screen. This is not information but an overload of information, which the average person cannot easily absorb, although the selling of such information and ads can be highly profitable to the media company. The average person is burdened every day with at least 500 messages from different media—newspapers, magazines, hoardings, transit ads in transport vehicles, radio, TV, wall ads on subways and tubes in big cities, cinema houses, and film shows. Even while driving, the radio may be on and there will be a stream of commercials bothering the inmates of the car. This exposure to ads is a fact of life in modern times, and this has been so even before the advent of the Internet. Now the Internet is another platform for ads. Of course, the reader, listener, or viewer can easily escape this botheration by ignoring the ads, or switching off the electronic media. But this does not happen. In many Western countries, commercial free broadcast channels are available. The Public Broadcasting System (PBS) in the United States is an example, but big corporations and sponsoring foundations take up time for their corporate messages. However, these messages for short periods, running into a couple of minutes at the beginning of news or other programmes, do not bother the viewers during the programme. Viewers can enjoy the entertainment programmes or serious discussions of vital importance to the public without any commercial break. Big foundations, memorial funds, annual subscriptions, and donations from the public support this commercial-free venture. The PBS is a nationwide channel. The National Broadcasting Corporation, the Columbia Broadcasting System, and the American Broadcasting Company are the big commercial channels. Another private channel is sabv 2014

(34) the Fox Channel owned by Rupert Murdoch, the Australian media mogul who is now an American citizen. But the biggest channel of all is the Cable News Network, started by the big business adventurer from Atlanta (Georgia), Ted Turner, who was the originator of 24-hour news broadcasting all over the world. Although 24 x 7 news telecast is quite common these days in India, many viewers are simply hearing the same thing all over again almost every hour until something new is broadcast. Till something new comes up, the ad nauseam repetition of stale news is nothing but a botheration. Moreover, for the sake of novelty, even trivial things are presented as important—to fill the time. Do people need so many 24 x 7 channels? Do they really need news all the 24 hours? Is there not some kind of artificiality in all this? Who benefits from this— the citizen or the entrepreneur? Are not the media meant for the people? Or is it the other way round?

promotion? • Do our media provide essential information to stimulate greater agricultural production? • Do they promote citizens’ participation in projects aimed at the maintenance of a clean environment and ecological balance? • Do they highlight the need for social welfare measures, including women and child welfare, and the removal of poverty? • Do they promote people’s interest in games and sports? • Do they create values of appraisal of art and cultural heritage?

and other networks, but national development in India is not their main concern. Commercialisation of the media has good and bad aspects, and we should be aware of them. What acted as a means for the development of big media is its commercialisation. Without it, the media would not have expanded so easily and so rapidly as they have done during the past three decades. But if the media have social responsibilities to fulfil in India, there should be a national communication policy aimed at national development, rather than imitating what is being done in the rich, developed countries of

• Do they promote secularism and a secular form of education?

the world. This is a separate area of concern and we shall deal with it in the future.

Social Responsibilities

When Doordarshan was established in Delhi on 15 September 1959, TV was projected by government officials connected with broadcasting and by others, including some foreign and domestic scholars in mass communication, as an instrument helpful in the economic and social development of the people, and in enthusing them with socially useful programmes and messages so that they will work for the overall development of the country. Let us ask ourselves the following questions: • Do the Indian mass media work as catalysts for social change? • Do they promote national integration? • Do they stimulate a scientific temper in the minds of citizens? • Do they serve in disseminating the messages of family planning, public health and hygiene, and literacy

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An analysis of TV programmes will show us that no channel is promoting these objectives in a sustained manner. Here and there, some programmes are telecast to fulfil some of these objectives, but overall Indian TV is promoting cinema-oriented entertainment in a big way. Zee TV, STAR, Asianet, Surya, HBO or any of their associates and subsidiaries are all overdoing entertainment of a filmy kind. 24-hour news is brought to the people by BBC, CNN, NDTV, CNBC, CNN–IBN

See you later, communicator! Professor Dr. J. V. Vil’anilam was Vice-Chancellor (1992-1996) and Head of the Department of Communication & Journalism (19821992) at the University of Kerala. As Professor Emeritus of the UGC he has taught at Berhampur, Bhopal, Bhubaneswar, Calicut, Dharwar, and Mangalore universities from 1996 onwards. Visit his website www.vilanilam.com.

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Shoma A. Chatterji

Does the Media Shape the Woman’s Body? Constant repetition of messages through editorial content makes women readers feel both inadequate as women and guilty because they are not slim.

he advertising media, as seen in print, online, and on television, has been overtly and covertly instilling in women across the world, the concept of a beautiful body that cancels out everything to do with a high body weight, in other words, obesity. Obese women are thus made to feel guilty about their bodies even if the obesity is due to severe genetic or sometimes incurable medical conditions. In Indian cinema, actresses such as Tun Tun and Manorama, good actresses both, were trapped in the stereotypical “comic actress” solely because they were fat. The fact that Tun Tun was a talented vocalist remained unknown to most of her fans. Manorama was confined to the comic female shrew. Ashok Kumar’s daughter Preeti Ganguli too was fat, and her fatness led her to do comic roles that often referred to her weight. But Preeti was beautiful and skittled down her weight to bag better roles in films. By the time she re-appeared on a magazine cover in her new avatar—beautiful, tall and slim—there were no roles for her, and she retired into obscurity. Guddi Maruti, daughter of comedian Maruti of yesteryears, is also picked for roles almost solely for a weight that evokes laughter among the audience. So, the concept of fat being equated with the ugly and the comic and in general, not high on visual attractiveness or sensual pull, has been conditioning female minds to feel guilty if they are fat, and proud if they are slim and svelte. This creates a powerful element of discrimination between women who are fat and women who are slim. Fat women offer entertainment of a very different kind which is not in good taste. It also keeps these women from trying to slim down even if they wish to. So, the media has successfully dictated to these women what their body weight should be. So, they cannot strive for diversity in roles within their career as actresses. One look at the rich commercials flashing across your television screens sandwiched between hot

debates on the future of the general elections shows svelte, slim, sophisticated beauties in different degrees of skin show. Fat models would not offer the visual pull to viewers like the slim models do. The print media and online websites are no less. Despite the thigh and cleavage shows, slim has always been in and fat has been out. Gyms, health clubs, and spas in urban metros and small towns are laughing all the way to the bank as not-so-slim girls and women breathe heavily on treadmills or bicycles every morning or jog around the nearest jogging park. Amy R. Malkin examined and analysed the covers of 21 popular women’s and men’s magazines1. These magazines were divided according to the gender of readers. Each cover was reviewed using a checklist designed to analyse visual images and text as well as the placement of each on the covers. The analysis revealed that 78 per cent of the covers of the women’s magazines contained a message referring to bodily appearance but none of the covers of men’s magazines did the same; 25 per cent of the women’s magazine covers contained conflicting images about weight loss and dietary habits. What is worse, the positioning of weight-related messages on the covers often suggested that losing weight could lead to a better life. While the editorial content in men’s magazines focused on entertainment, knowledge, hobbies, and activities, the focus of women’s magazines was on changing of appearance that should be attractive. Wolf2, Faludi3 and Freedman4 have repeatedly reported on the significant role that the media play in the construction of the “beauty ideal” that society holds up to women. Women readers who subscribe to these magazines, of which some are fiercely loyal readers, begin to cultivate feelings of inadequacy if their bodies fail to live up to the suggestions the magazine articles contain, or to the faces and figures the magazines are filled with apart from the cover sabv 2014

(36) images. Over a period, constant repetition of these messages through editorial content brings in a different mindset among women readers who feel both inadequate as women and guilty because they are not slim. “Feelings of inadequacy,” writes Adler, “are also likely to be fed by cosmetic manufacturers and weight management programs whose ad campaigns focus on convincing women that they can ameliorate their bodily flaws and imperfections only by purchasing their products or taking part in their programs.” In contemporary Indian television, one of the biggest show-stealers, who keeps couch potatoes glued to their couches, is Amritsar’s Bharti Singh. She managed to take full advantage of her obesity to make a prime-time debut in The Great Indian Laughter Challenge One in 2008. Bharti Singh’s creation “Lalli” is an overweight toddler from Amritsar where she enacts herself and was a household name in Punjab much before she reached the Mumbai studios.

In their well-researched piece, “What Makes India’s Women Comedians Tick?” (Mint, 6 July 2013) Sanjukta Sharma and Charpreet Khurana write, “Her fat girl is an unapologetically grotesque spectacle. Singh sees no conventionally redemptive future for Lalli. Like Tun Tun, she is the brain-dead, undesirable girl. But unlike Tun Tun or Manorama or any female Hindi film comic, Lalli’s humour is a statement as much about the overweight girl as it is about those who make fun of overweight people. ‘Everything boils down to one thing,’ says Singh. ‘If you are comfortable in your skin and you think you can laugh at yourself, you wouldn’t feel any hitch doing the same in front of audiences.’ She gets invited to host award shows, to private parties, small towns across India and even to the income tax department’s annual get-togethers.” But the fact remains that because she is fat, she is both an object of laughter with her body as agency and sabv 2014

the subject of evoking laughter, but putting that fatness to fatten her fame and her bank balance. This makes no dent in the average woman’s conception about a beautiful body equated with being slim and definitely not obese. If Bharti Singh is taking full advantage of her obese condition and laughing all the way to the bank, it means that she has coped with her body size, but it does not mean that she has broken the social conditioning of the taboo against overweight women. Besides, television and public audiences will offer just that one vacant space to one Bharti Singh. Will it provide equal space to other overweight women across the board? Fat women working as corporate honchos or doing well otherwise in their careers, find it extremely difficult to find the right match for an arranged marriage. In love marriages, size might not count much, but even in these cases, you find more fat men marrying slim women than the other way round. In many cases, where jobs are not linked to the weight of the female candidate, they cannot cross the first interview because they are fat. Going back to Adler’s study as a frame of reference, messages in women’s magazines, such as “Get the Body You Want” placed next to “How to Get Your Husband to Really Listen” and “Lose 10 Pounds” next to “Ways to make your Life Easier, Happier and Better” give women the false idea that changing the appearance of their bodies will lead to better relationships, stronger friendships, and happier lives. The findings of the study suggest that women are not only being told that they should focus on obtaining an impossible body shape through dieting and exercising, but they are also being told that they should be able to do so while eating, or at least preparing for others, foods that are high in fat content. These fattening foods, obviously not typical diet foods, may make women think that it is even more impossible for them to obtain the thin ideal that is being presented to them or the ideal life that goes with it. The consequences of striving for these unrealistic ideals may be that an increasing number of women take aggressive means to control and reduce their weight. The writer is a freelance journalist, author and film scholar based in Kolkata. She has authored 17 books and contributed to many edited compilations on cinema, family and gender. E-Mail: shoma.chatterji@gmail.com 1. Amy R. Malkin (1999). “Women and Weight: Gendered Messages on Magazine Covers,” Sex Roles: A Journal of Research, April. 2. N. Wolf (1991). The Beauty Myth: How Images of Beauty Are Used against Women. New York: William Morrow. 3. S. Faludi (1991). Backlash: The Undeclared War against American Women. New York: Crown. 4. T. Freedman (1986). Beauty Bound. Lexington, MA: D.C. Heath.

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Peter Hart

Media Millionaires Journalism by and for the 0.01 Percent

ainstream journalism is, we’re often told, in a state of severe crisis. Newsroom employment began to decline as a result of corporate takeovers in the 1990s. Then the digital revolution destroyed the advertising market, plunging the industry into serious doubt about its very business model. But times aren’t rough all around. There are many pundits and TV anchors who are doing very well in the media world, racking up millions of dollars from their media contracts, book deals and lucrative speaking fees. Though they don’t generally approach the compensation packages awarded to network morning show hosts like Matt Lauer or evening anchors like Diane Sawyer, they’re not exactly hurting. Of course, being the boss means the biggest payday—and media company CEOs have been posting unbelievable incomes. In 2012, CBS head Les Moonves made $62 million, Disney’s Robert Iger made $37 million and Rupert Murdoch of Fox took home a comparatively modest $22 million (New York Times, 5/5/13). Don’t feel sorry for Murdoch, though; as No. 91 on Forbes’ list of the world’s richest people, with an estimated net worth of $11.2 billion, he’s unlikely to go to bed hungry. The media business outstrips other industries in generously compensating its top executives (New York Times, 5/5/13), and those resources could of course be put to better use by hiring reporters. But that’s not the way the system works. And it’s not just the bosses getting rich. Indeed, many highprofile members of the media elite live a rather charmed life. The journalism business looks to be in a disastrous state—but the view from the top is just fine.

Thomas Friedman

New York Times foreign affairs columnist Tom Friedman has written a number of bestsellers, and regularly holds forth on outlets like public TV’s Charlie Rose show. All of the globe-trotting and

Thomas Friedman

yearning for a “radical centrism” in American politics—where sensible climate policies could be paired with cuts to social spending—have paid off handsomely. Friedman is married to real estate heiress Ann Bucksbaum, and lives in a “palatial 11,400-squarefoot house, now valued at $9.3 million, on a 7½sabv 2014

(38) acre parcel” near the Bethesda Country Club (Washingtonian, 7/1/06). Like most media figures, Friedman’s compensation is not reported. But by one relatively outdated account (Washingtonian, 7/1/06), “His speaking fee recently passed $50,000; with his Times salary, syndication rights, and royalties from his bestselling books, his annual income easily reaches seven figures.” Some of Friedman’s extracurricular employment has caused controversy. In 2009, the Times public editor (5/24/09) noted that Friedman’s acceptance of a $75,000 speaking fee from a California government agency violated company guidelines. But clearly such arrangements are worth the potential trouble. That could explain the existence of The Next New World, a gathering scheduled for June in San Francisco. It was billed as an “invitation-

House should have done more to have a “moment in the Rose Garden” with a few corporate CEOs (11/11/12; FAIR Blog, 11/13/12), and demanded to hear more from the White House about the “hard choices” Americans must make to get by with less (1/29/12). He worried about the problem of Occupy activists “demonizing Wall Street” (10/10/11). He expressed concern that the more people criticize big banks, “the closer you get to wiping out the shareholder completely”—a person “who is not just a fat cat” (2/22/09). In that sense, Gregory is reflecting what passes for conventional wisdom in corporate media—but also among people in Gregory’s economic class. His salary is not disclosed, but his predecessor, Tim Russert, reportedly made more than $5 million a year (Washington Post, 5/23/04). As Politico reported (3/15/12), Gregory was seeking membership in the

David Gregory

only, highly interactive forum” with CEOs, “tech pioneers” and “influential decision-makers”—and, of course, Tom Friedman. It’s worth keeping in mind that when you read Friedman (1/6/13) complaining that “Obama has spent a lot of time lately bashing the rich” and insisting that it’s time for him “to stop just hammering the wealthy”—as the action movie cliché puts it, this time it’s personal.

David Gregory

As host of NBC’s Meet the Press, David Gregory is paid to quiz politicians on the tough issues of the day. But he offers his own opinions on the show, too; he’s encouraged the Obama White House to propose “big spending cuts” in order to confuse Republicans (1/27/13; FAIR Blog, 1/29/13). He thinks the White

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exclusive Chevy Chase Club, which requires an $80,000 “initiation fee.” Gregory was sponsored by a couple of Washington-area real estate moguls. Like other members of the media elite, Gregory does speaking gigs on the side—sometimes causing controversy. In 2012 he was a keynote speaker for the National Federation of Independent Businesses, a Republican-allied lobbying group (Think Progress, 5/12/12). NBC defended the appearance on the grounds that Gregory was not being paid. Not all of his appearances are free; Gregory can command about $40,000 per appearance (Think Progress, 5/12/12). One topic offered by his speakers’ bureau: “The Mainstream Media Under Siege.” Gregory gave a 2010 keynote address at a conference held by the National Association of Broadcasters, the powerful lobbying arm of the

(39) media industry—an event that, according to organizers, would “bring hundreds of radio and television broadcasters to Washington to meet with lawmakers and federal officials on legislative and regulatory issues impacting broadcasters.” Gregory also delivered the keynote at a 2006 awards dinner for something called the Geospatial Intelligence Foundation, which is set up to “promote the geospatial intelligence tradecraft” and use “geospatial intelligence to address national security objectives.” Gregory is married to Beth Wilkinson, a wellknown Washington attorney who works primarily as a defense attorney for corporate clients; she represented mortgage giant Fannie Mae from 2006–08. “She knows everyone in government, and she tells me nothing,” Gregory remarked to the Washington Post (3/14/06), which went on to note that “in his personal life, Gregory also rubs shoulders with newsmakers”; a guest at the couple’s baby shower was then– Assistant Attorney General Michael Chertoff. In 2013, Gregory made gossipy news in Washington after apparently becoming incensed about a parking situation near his home (Washington Post, 4/10/13). Visitors to the D.C. Design House, an architectural showcase to benefit the Children’s National Medical Center, were evidently clogging up the streets near Gregory’s home. According to one of the designers, Gregory came to the house to very loudly complain on the front lawn. Witnesses claimed that Gregory yelled something about knowing “all the politicians in town,” which the anchor denied.

(9/28/12), David V. Johnson wondered if Zakaria’s fracking advocacy has anything to do with speeches he’d given that were in some cases sponsored by or connected to the industries that stand to benefit from increased domestic gas drilling. Before Zakaria’s lecture agent made changes to his speakers’ bio, Johnson noted, one could see praise from an array of corporate sources. (“Perfect for a business audience” was Merrill Lynch’s assessment.) Keeping track of the many conflicts in Zakaria’s speaking engagements could prove challenging. He was scheduled to deliver keynotes at the Institute of Food Technologists’ 2013 Annual Meeting and Food Expo and at a convention of the Society for Human Resource Management. He moderated a discussion at the 2010 Biotechnology Industry Organization, and appeared at the 2012 Detroit Regional Chamber

Fareed Zakaria

What’s the “single biggest threat to the U.S.’s fiscal health”? If you’re super-pundit Fareed Zakaria—columnist for Time and the Washington Post, as well as the host of a weekend CNN show— the answer is pensions for public sector workers. That was his message in a Time magazine column (6/25/12) that cheered on Democrats willing to stand up to labor unions. As CJR.org (3/19/12) reported, Zakaria has given high-priced talks to “numerous financial firms, including Baker Capital, Catterton Partners, Driehaus Capital Management, ING, Merrill Lynch, Oak Investment Partners, Charles Schwab and T. Rowe Price.” The going rate might be in the neighborhood of $75,000, and it apparently doesn’t bother anyone at CNN; a spokes-person told CJR, “We have full confidence in Fareed Zakaria’s professionalism and judgment and do not think his outside speaking appearances interfere with his CNN responsibilities on his weekly show or his commentary on CNN.” But some have tried to connect the dots between Zakaria’s punditry and the interests paying him that kind of money. In a Web piece for the Boston Review

Fareed Zakaria

of Commerce conference. He spoke at the 2011 conference of the Insured Retirement Institute (the “primary trade association for annuities”), appeared at a 2009 real estate industry conference (his appearance was co-sponsored by commercial giant Cushman & Wakefield), and spoke at the 2011 TFI World Fertilizer Conference (that was, evidently, a return appearance). The talks are extremely lucrative, but that kind of money isn’t terribly new to Zakaria: He reportedly purchased a $3.4 million Upper West Side townhouse in 2004 (New York Observer, 9/27/04). A New York Times profile (8/20/12) made clear that Zakaria is a sought-after guest of the elite— Beverly Hills business partners hosting a dinner to sabv 2014

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Chris Matthews

discuss Iraq invited lawmakers, the queen of Jordan and Zakaria. “When he speaks, I listen,” said the host. “I am just so thrilled that he exists, that there is someone like that.” Time managing editor Richard Stengel called him “one of the premier global intellectuals” (New York Times, (8/19/12); a less generous appraisal of Zakaria came in a book review (New York Observer, 5/12/08) that called him the “multimedia simulacrum of an intellectual.” Zakaria’s image took a hit when it was revealed that he had plagiarized a section of a column on gun control. The pundit was briefly suspended by Time and CNN (Politico, 8/10/12). But he emerged relatively unscathed—and back on the lecture circuit.

Chris Matthews

As the political winds at MSNBC have shifted, longtime Hardball host Chris Matthews has tried to go with the flow, adopting a somewhat more liberal outlook in order to keep current. And it’s certainly a lucrative gig. Though the show does not boast a sizable audience, Matthews reportedly pulls in a salary of about $5 million (New York Times, 3/23/09). He lives in a multi-million dollar home in the Maryland suburb of Chevy Chase, a house that the New York Times’ Mark Leibovich (5/13/08) described as “sun-lit, art-filled

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and cozy, with three Mercedes of various sizes and degrees of wear in the driveway.” Matthews’ wife Kathleen is Marriott International’s executive vice president of global communications and public affairs. His speaking engagements, arranged by the Washington Speakers Bureau, can run upwards of $40,000 a pop. Matthews has given talks at events like Interphex, “North America’s largest event for the biopharmaceutical manufacturing industry,” as well as the Multi-Unit Foodservice Operators conference and the American Council of Engineering Companies. He appeared at a 2008 conference of the National Association of Realtors, as well as the 2012 Arctic Imperative Summit, an event sponsored by an array of corporate interests to discuss how climate change will create “more viable and efficient shipping corridors.” He also assured industry leaders at a 2012 cable industry conference that cable news is crucial for critical news media to blossom (FAIR Blog, 5/24/12). It was a strange performance, with Matthews arguing that the Iraq War would have been very difficult to start today thanks to the power of 24hour cable news: “We are a critical media today.” This would be more compelling if not for the fact that 24-hour cable news had been around for 22 years in 2002. In spite of his working-class shtick, Matthews has

(41) never seemed particularly interested in class issues. He once complained (Hardball, 6/10/05), “I never see a really good articulate labor leader on television.” An odd thing to pontificate about if you’re a TV host, with a great deal of say in who gets to appear on TV. But it’s a good bet that Matthews isn’t spending much time hanging around with union leaders in the first place. And in complaining about Obama’s lack of leadership, Matthews (Hardball, 5/15/13) recalled with great fondness the leadership demonstrated by another president, Ronald Reagan, when he broke the PATCO air traffic controllers’ union. Nothing like a millionaire TV host praising union-busting—on the “liberal” cable channel, no less.

Bill O’Reilly

Fox News mainstay Bill O’Reilly has crafted an image as a tough-spoken right-wing populist. O’Reilly would dismiss the political label as “spin,” but there can be no disagreement that the O’Reilly franchise has proven itself to be enormously profitable. Between his top-rated cable show, hit books, live appearances and syndicated columns, O’Reilly reportedly makes in the neighborhood of $15–20 million a year (Business Insider, 9/16/12). Part of O’Reilly’s branding is that he’s a regular guy, looking out for other regular guys. “We’re the only show from a working-class point of view,” he explained early on (Washington Post, 12/13/00). O’Reilly’s humble origins are an important part of his backstory. “You don’t come from any lower than

Bill O’Reilly

I came from on an economic scale,” he wrote in his first book—an odd claim from someone who grew up in middle-class Long Island, the son of an oil company accountant (Extra!, 8/01). More often, O’Reilly’s commentary on the state of the economy sounds more like what you’d expect from a multi-millionaire: The Bush tax cuts were great for government revenues (FAIR Blog, 8/9/11), and raising the tax rate on Mitt Romney’s capital gains income would amount to unjust double taxation (FAIR Blog, 1/19/12). Talk of raising taxes on the wealthy prompted O’Reilly (9/19/11) to threaten to walk away from it all: “If Barack Obama begins taxing me more than 50 percent, which is very possible, I don’t know how much longer I’m going to do this.” And protests that sought to battle inequality were a problem, as he explained (10/28/11): The Occupy Wall Street Movement is not a spontaneous protest against economic inequality. It is a well-thought-out campaign to bring down the infrastructure of this country, to turn us into a Western European–type entitlement state. When a New York Times poll (3/1/11) found most people opposed attacking the collective bargaining rights of public sector workers, and opposed the idea of cutting pay and benefits in the name of deficit reduction, O’Reilly (3/1/11) had a solution: They shouldn’t have polled so many union households: “If you subtract them, those who favor cutting benefits win the poll,” he asserted. Nor are his discussions of poverty in America very supportive or understanding of workingclass perspectives. “There is a reason for poverty in America,” O’Reilly explained (7/20/11). “There’s almost always a reason attached to poverty. And it’s not the capitalist system’s fault. It’s usually personal responsibility or something like that.” In addition to his substantial Fox contract (upwards of $10 million a year—New York Times, 4/19/12), O’Reilly also has a side career giving speeches. Like his millionaire media colleagues, O’Reilly appears at trade shows and corporate groups like the 2011 Ad Specialty Industry conference (where he appeared alongside TV liberal James Carville) and the 2012 International Franchise Association Annual Convention. O’Reilly has also been doing a series of live events that combine punditry and what you might call stand up comedy. The current iteration, the “Bolder Fresher Tour,” features O’Reilly alongside right-wing comedian Dennis Miller. On the previous version of the tour, Glenn Beck was the co-star. “It’s a good night for the folks, it’s a good night for me,” O’Reilly explains in the Web trailer for the current tour. With VIP tickets selling for over $500 to a New York show, it’s certainly good for someone. Courtesy: http://fair.org sabv 2014

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Atacn¡bpsS bp²cm{ãobw ]e\neIfnÂ ]¦phbv¡p¶ am[ya§fpsS BtKmf {]`mhs¯¡pdn¨pff {it²bamb ]T\w þ e‑mW‑v. k‑v]‑m\‑nj‑v {‑]ik‑vX-\‑mb ]{‑X‑m[‑n]À þAt‑ac‑n¡³ b‑p²‑w s‑lÀÌ‑ns‑â h‑m¡‑p-IÄ s‑hf‑nd‑nt‑¸‑mÀ«‑p- s‑N-¿‑m³ Xs‑â ]{‑X s‑¸-S‑p-¯‑n-b-X‑v. a‑m[‑y-a-§Ä ¯‑ns‑â t‑eJIs‑c I‑y‑q_-b‑nt‑e b‑p²‑w d‑nt‑¸‑mÀ«‑p-s‑N-¿‑p-I-b-Ã‑, ¡b¨ \‑y‑qt‑b‑mÀ¡‑v t‑a‑mÀW‑n‑wK‑v t‑PWe‑ns‑â ]{‑X‑m-[‑n-]À h‑ne‑y‑w When Media Goes to War Anthony Dimaggio d‑m³t‑U‑mÄ^‑v s‑lÀÌ‑v‑, ]{‑XAakar Books, 2012. ¯‑ns‑â {‑]N‑mc‑w I‑q«‑m³ as‑ä‑m c‑p X{‑´‑w I‑qS‑n Bt‑e‑m-N‑n-¨‑p. b‑p²-¯‑ns‑â Z‑ri‑y-§Ä N‑n{‑X ¯‑ne‑m¡‑n ]{‑X-¯‑n-\-b-¡‑m³ {‑]ik‑vX N‑n{‑X-I‑m-c-\‑mb s‑{‑^U-d‑nI‑v s‑da‑n‑w-K‑vS-s‑\b‑p‑w I‑y‑q_-b‑nt‑e¡b-¨‑p. I‑y‑q_b‑n s‑e¯‑nb s‑da‑n‑w-K‑vS¬ s‑lÀÌ‑n \‑v C§s‑\ Hc‑p s‑Se{‑K‑m-a-b-¨‑p:

1898

“Everything is quiet. There is no trouble here. There will be no war. I wish to return’’- Remington. H«‑p‑w

s‑s‑hI‑n-b‑nÃ. ]{‑X‑m-[‑n-]-c‑ps‑S s‑Se{‑K‑m‑w N‑n{‑X-I‑m-c-s‑\ t‑XS‑ns‑b¯‑n. “Please remain. You furnish the pictures and I will furnish the war’’- W.R Hearst.

b‑p²h‑p‑w a‑m[‑y-a-§f‑p‑w X½‑ne‑pÅ _Ô-¯‑ns‑â F¡‑mes‑¯b‑p‑w c‑mj‑v{‑S‑ob-a‑mW‑v t‑e‑mI sabv 2014

k‑rj‑vS‑n¡‑p-I -X-s‑¶-b‑m-W‑v. Ig‑nª Hc‑p \‑qä‑mï‑v I‑me-a‑mb‑n a‑m[‑ya-§Ä C‑u c‑mj‑v{‑S‑ob‑w a‑mä-a‑n-Ã‑ms‑X X‑pSÀ¶‑p- t‑]‑m-c‑p¶‑p. H¶‑p‑w cï‑p‑w t‑e‑mI-b‑p-²§Ä a‑m{‑X-aÃ‑, A©‑p `‑qJ-Þ§-f‑ne‑p‑w \‑n¶‑pÅ s‑Nd‑pX‑p‑w he‑pX‑pa‑mb B`‑y-´c b‑p²§Ä t‑]‑me‑p‑w a‑m[‑y-a-§Ä Gs‑äS‑p-¯‑p. Ht‑c‑m b‑p²h‑p‑w a‑m[‑y-a-§-f‑ps‑S {‑]N‑mc‑w I‑q«‑n. k‑ml‑nX‑y‑w a‑pXÂ Ie-IÄ h-s‑c b‑p‑w Nc‑n{‑X‑w a‑pXÂ I‑mb‑nI h‑nt‑\‑m-Z-§Ä h-s‑cb‑p‑w F´‑p‑w GX‑p‑w b‑p²-§s‑f A\‑p-I-c‑n t‑¨‑m b‑p²-§Ä¡‑p ]I-c-a‑pÅ BJ‑y‑m-\-§-f‑mt‑b‑m a\‑p-j‑y³ k‑rj‑vS‑n¨-X‑m-s‑W¶ Hc‑p \‑nc‑o £W‑w Xs‑¶b‑pï‑v. F¦‑ne‑p‑w b‑p²‑w a‑m[‑y-a-§-f‑ps‑S k‑z´‑w BJ‑y‑m-\-§-f‑m-b‑n a‑md‑p¶X‑v s‑Se‑n-h‑n-js‑â hct‑h‑m-s‑S-b‑m-W‑v. h‑n]‑pe-a‑mb s‑Se‑n-h‑n-j³ Ih t‑dP‑v e`‑n¨ BZ‑y-b‑p²‑w h‑nb-ä‑v \‑m-a‑nt‑eX‑mb‑n-c‑p-¶‑p (1957þ75‑). ‘First living room war’ F¶‑v Nc‑n{‑X-I‑m-c-·‑mÀ h‑nbä‑v\‑m‑w b‑p² s‑¯ h‑nf‑n-¨-X‑n-\‑p- I‑m-c-W-a‑n-X‑m -W‑v. t‑^‑mt‑«‑m-{‑K-^‑n‑, k‑n\‑n-ab‑v¡‑p -h-g‑n-a‑m-d‑nbX‑p t‑]‑m-s‑eb‑m

(43) W‑v b‑p²-s‑¯¡‑pd‑n-¨‑pÅ ]{‑Xh‑mÀ¯-IÄ s‑Se‑n-h‑n-j³ d‑nt‑¸‑mÀ«‑n‑w-K‑n\‑p hg‑n-a‑m-d‑n-bs‑-X ¶‑p N‑qï‑n-¡‑mW‑n¡‑p-¶‑p‑, b‑p²h‑p‑w s‑Se‑n-h‑n-j\‑p‑w F¶ {‑]J‑y‑mX {‑KÙ-s‑a-g‑pX‑nb {‑_‑qk‑v Ia‑n‑wK‑vk‑v. s‑Se‑n-h‑n-js‑â Nc‑n-{‑Xs‑¯ \‑nÀ®‑m-b-I-a‑mb‑n k‑z‑m[‑o-\‑n¨ a‑q¶‑p k‑w`h-§-f‑p s‑S ZiI‑w I‑qS‑n-b‑m-b‑n-c‑p¶‑p 1960 IÄ. s‑Xc-s‑ª-S‑p¸‑p c‑mj‑v{‑S‑ob¯‑ns‑â Nc‑n{‑X‑w X‑nc‑p-¯‑ns‑bg‑pX‑nb 1960s‑e s‑I¶-U‑nþ \‑nI‑vk¬ k‑wh‑mZ-a‑m-b‑n-c‑p¶‑p H¶‑v. s‑Se‑n-h‑n-j³ Hc‑p P\-Xs‑b s‑s‑hI‑m-c‑n-I-a‑mb‑n H¶‑n-¸‑n¨X‑ns‑â Gäh‑p‑w he‑nb DZ‑m-l-c-W -§-f‑n-s‑e‑m¶‑mb‑n C¶‑p‑w N‑qï‑n¡‑m-W‑n¡s‑¸-S‑p¶ s‑I¶-U‑nh[a‑mb‑n-c‑p¶‑p cï‑m-at‑¯X‑v. a‑p³s‑]‑mc‑n¡-e‑p-a‑n-Ã‑m¯ h‑n[‑w Hc‑p P\X X§-f‑ps‑S c‑mj‑v{‑S‑w \S-¯‑p¶ b‑p²¯‑ns‑\-X‑ns‑c s‑Xc‑p-h‑n-e‑n-d-§-‑m-³ -I‑m-c-W-a‑mb h‑nbä‑v\‑m‑w b‑p²-¯‑ns‑â s‑Se‑n-h‑nj³ Ih-t‑d-P‑m-b‑n-c‑p¶‑p a‑q¶‑mas‑¯ k‑w`-h‑w. b‑p²-§-f‑ps‑S d‑nt‑¸‑mÀ«‑n‑w-K‑n Â a‑m{‑X-a-Ã‑, Bk‑q{‑X-W‑w‑, X¿‑m -s‑d-S‑p-¸‑v, \‑oX‑o-I-c‑n-¡Â‑, \S-¸‑m -¡Â‑, P\]‑n-´‑p-W-b‑p-d-¸‑m-¡Â F¶‑n-§s‑\ Ht‑c‑m I‑mc‑y¯‑n-e‑p‑w a‑m[‑y-a-§Ä h³ k‑z‑m[‑o\‑w s‑Ne‑p-¯‑p¶ c‑oX‑n \S-¸‑m-I‑p-¶ X‑v 60If‑n-e‑m-W‑vþ h‑nbä‑v\‑m‑w b‑p²-¯‑n-Â. h‑nPb‑w AS‑ps‑¯ ¯‑n F¶‑v At‑ac‑n¡³ kÀ¡‑m À BhÀ¯‑n-¨‑p- ]-d-b‑p-t‑¼‑mg‑p‑w h‑nb-ä‑v\‑m-a‑nÂ s‑I‑mÃs‑¸-«‑ps‑I‑mt‑ïb‑nc‑p¶ At‑ac‑n¡³ s‑s‑k\‑nI-c‑ps‑S a‑rXt‑Zl§f‑p‑w b‑p²-¯‑n-s‑\X‑ns‑c At‑ac‑n¡b‑nÂ \S¶ P\-I‑ob {‑]X‑nt‑j [§f‑p‑w s‑Se‑n-h‑n-j\‑nÂ \‑ndª‑p-\‑n-¶‑p. \‑nb-{‑´W-a‑n-Ã‑m¯ a‑m[‑y-a-k‑z‑m-X-{‑´‑ya‑mW‑v C‑u b‑p²-¯‑nÂ At‑ac‑n¡s‑b ]c‑mP-b-s‑¸-S‑p-¯‑n-bX‑v F¶‑p Ic‑p-X‑p¶-h-c‑p-ï‑v. {‑]k‑n-Uâ‑v \‑nI‑vk¬ Xs‑¶ ]d-ª-X‑v, At‑ac‑n¡s‑b t‑X‑me‑v]‑n¨X‑v h‑nb-ä‑v\‑m-a-Ã‑, At‑ac‑n¡³ a‑m[‑y-a-§-f‑mW‑v F¶‑mb‑n-c‑p-¶‑p. ]s‑£ s‑s‑k\‑y-¯‑ns‑â h‑ni‑z‑mk‑yX \j‑vSa‑m-b‑n-c‑p-¶‑p-s‑h¶‑p‑w a‑m[‑y-a-

§-t‑f‑mS‑p‑w P\-§t‑f‑mS‑p‑w AhÀ \‑pW ]d-ª‑p-s‑h¶‑p‑w a‑m[‑y-a§Ä X‑nc‑n-¨-S‑n¨‑p. At‑Xk-ab‑w h‑nbä‑v\‑m‑w b‑p²-¯‑nâ d‑nt‑¸‑mÀ«‑n‑wK‑v At‑ac‑n¡³ a‑m[‑y-a-§-f‑ps‑S `c-W-I‑qS h‑nt‑[bX‑z‑w Dd-¸‑n-s‑¨S‑p-¯‑p-s‑h¶ h‑mZh‑p‑w \‑ne-h‑n-e‑pï‑v. `c-W-I‑q-S-b‑p-à‑n-IÄ¡‑p‑w {‑]J‑y‑m-]-\-§Ä¡‑p‑w \‑mh‑p \ÂI‑p-I- a‑m-{‑X-a‑mW‑v a‑m[‑y-a§Ä s‑Nb‑vX-s‑X¶‑p‑w b‑p²¯‑n-s‑\-X‑ns‑c c‑mP‑y-¯‑n-\-I¯‑p‑w ]‑pd¯‑p‑w \S¶ \‑nc-h[‑nb‑mb {‑]X‑nt‑j[§Ä Ah Xa-k‑vIc‑n-¨‑p-s‑h¶‑p‑w s‑lÀa\‑p‑w aI‑vs‑Nk‑v\‑nb‑p‑w N‑qï‑n-¡‑m-W‑n-¡‑p-¶‑p.

]T\‑w. k‑ma‑ql‑y]T\‑w‑, c‑m{‑ã‑o b]T\‑w‑, \bX{‑´]T\‑w‑, a‑m[‑y a]T\‑w F¶‑n§s‑\ h‑nh‑n[ s‑s‑hÚ‑m\‑nIaÞe§s‑f I‑q«‑nb‑nW¡‑p¶ U‑na‑m¤‑nt‑b‑mh‑n s‑â ka‑o]\‑w At‑ac‑n¡b‑ps‑S k‑m{‑a‑mP‑y¯ X‑mÂ]c‑y§Ä a‑pXÂ at‑[‑yj‑y³ k‑m¼¯‑nI LS\ hs‑cb‑p‑w b‑p²§f‑ps‑S k‑ma‑ql‑y a\‑xi‑mk‑v{‑X‑w a‑pXÂ a‑m[‑ya§f‑ps‑S b‑p²¡¨hS‑w hs‑cb‑pa‑pff h‑njb§Ä Bg¯‑nÂ h‑niIe\‑w s‑N¿‑p ¶‑p. AX‑phg‑n a‑m[‑ya]T\¯‑n s‑â A¡‑mZa‑nIa‑mb k‑m[‑yX IÄ¡‑v H¶‑m´c‑w Hc‑p a‑mX‑rI k‑rã‑n¡‑pIb‑mW‑v U‑na‑m¤‑nt‑b‑m.

t\mw tNmwkvInbpw FtUzÀUv. Fkv. slÀa\pw tNÀs¶gpXnb hnJymXamb am[ya]T\¯nÂ \n¶mWv Unam¤ntbm XpS§p ¶Xv. "k½Xn\nÀ½mWw' (Manufacturing consent) F¶ AhcpsS k¦ev]\¯nsâ ASn¯dbmb "{]NmcW cm{ãob' (Propaganda politics)s¯ Atacn¡³ am[ya§fpsS bp² kao]\§fnÂ Isï¯pIbmWv Cu ]T\w. H¸w At´mWn tbm {Kmwjn apXÂ¡pff amÀIvknÌv kmaqly]TnXm¡sfbpw tdm_À«v aIvsNkv\n DÄs¸sSbpff \nch[nbmb am[ya]TnXm ¡sfbpw Cu hnjb¯nsâ hniIe\¯n\v Unam¤ntbm B{i bn¡pIbpw sN¿p¶p. s]mXphnÂ sSenhnj³ tI{µoIcn¨p \S ¡p¶ BtKmfhÂ¡cW Imes¯ bp²]T\§fnÂ \n¶v Cu IrXn¡pff ImXemb hyXymkw ]{X§sf¡qSn khnkvXcw AhXcn¸n¡p¶psh¶XmWv. H³]Xv A[ymb§fpw _dmIv H_mabpsS Imes¯ am[yacm{ãobs¯¡pdn¨pff Hcp ]n³ Ipdn¸papÄs¸Sp¶XmWv {KÙw. [mcmfw ØnXnhnhc¡W¡p Ifpw ]«nIIfpw {Km^pIfpw sImïv Akm[mcWamb A¡m ZanI kq£vaXbpw anIhpw ssIh¶n«papïv Cu ]T\¯n\v. Bt‑K‑m-f-hÂ¡c-W-I‑m-e s‑¯ s‑Se‑nh‑nj\‑p‑w ]{‑Xh‑pa‑pÄ s‑¸s‑Sb‑pff a‑m[‑ya§s‑f a‑p³ \‑nÀ¯‑n‑, b‑p²§f‑ps‑S \‑m\‑m Xc‑w c‑m{‑ã‑ob§Ä h‑niIe\‑w s‑N¿‑p¶ {‑it‑²ba‑mb ]T\a‑m W‑v B´W‑n U‑na‑m¤‑nt‑b‑mh‑ns‑â ‑‘When Media Goes to War’ 1990þ2008 I‑mes‑¯ at‑[‑y j‑y³ b‑p²c‑m{‑ã‑oba‑mW‑v {‑KÙ ¯‑ns‑â {‑][‑m\ ]Ý‑m¯es‑a ¦‑ne‑p‑w h‑nbä‑v\‑m‑w b‑p²‑w a‑pXÂ A^‑vK‑m³ b‑p²‑w hs‑cb‑pffhb‑nÂ At‑ac‑n¡³ P\Xb‑p‑w `cWI‑qSh‑p‑w a‑m[‑ya§f‑p‑w b‑p²s‑a¶ h‑njbt‑¯‑ms‑SS‑p¯ \‑m\‑mXc‑w ka‑o]\§f‑ps‑S h‑niIe\a‑mb‑n a‑md‑p¶‑p‑, C‑u

t‑\‑m‑w t‑N‑m‑wk‑vI‑nb‑p‑w Ft‑U‑zÀU‑v. Fk‑v. s‑lÀa\‑p‑w t‑NÀs‑¶g‑pX‑nb h‑nJ‑y‑mXa‑mb a‑m[‑ya]T\¯‑nÂ \‑n¶‑mW‑v U‑na‑m¤‑nt‑b‑m X‑pS§‑p¶X‑v. "k½X‑n\‑nÀ½‑mW‑w' (Manufacturing consent‑‑) F¶ Ahc‑ps‑S k¦e‑v]\¯‑ns‑â AS‑n¯db‑mb "{‑]N‑mcW c‑m{‑ã‑ob' (Propaganda politics‑‑) s‑¯ At‑ac‑n¡³ a‑m[‑ya§f‑p s‑S b‑p²ka‑o]\§f‑nÂ Is‑ï¯‑pIb‑mW‑v C‑u ]T\‑w. H¸‑w At‑´‑mW‑nt‑b‑m {‑K‑m‑wj‑n a‑pXÂ¡‑pff a‑mÀI‑vk‑nÌ‑v k‑ma‑ql‑y]T‑nX‑m¡s‑fb‑p‑w t‑d‑m_À«‑v aI‑vs‑Nk‑v\‑n DÄs‑¸s‑S b‑pff \‑nch[‑nb‑mb a‑m[‑ya]T‑n sabv 2014

(44)

Atacn¡³ {]knUâpamcmbncp¶ \nIv-kWpw sI¶Unbpw

sSen-hn-jsâ Ncn-{Xs¯ \nÀ®m-b-I-ambn kzm[o-\n¨ aq¶p kw`h-§-fpsS ZiIw IqSn-bm-bn-cp¶p 1960IÄ. sXc-sª-Sp¸p cmjv{Sob-¯nsâ Ncn{Xw Xncp-¯nsbgpXnb 1960se sI¶-Unþ \nIvk¬ kwhmZ-am-bn-cp¶p H¶v. sSen-hn-j³ Hcp P\-X sb sshIm-cn-I-ambn H¶n-¸n¨Xn-sâ Gähpw henb DZm-l-c-W-§-fn-sem¶mbn C¶pw Nqïn-¡m-Wn¡s¸-Sp¶ sI¶-Un-h[ambn-cp¶p cïm-at¯Xv. ap³s]mcn¡ep-an-Ãm¯ hn[w Hcp P\X X§-fpsS cmjv{Sw \S-¯p¶ bp²¯ns\-Xnsc sXcp-hnen-d-§-m-³ -Im-c-W-amb hnbäv\mw bp²-¯nsâ sSen-hn-j³ Ih-td-Pm-bn-cp¶p aq¶m-as¯ kw`-hw. X‑m¡s‑fb‑p‑w C‑u h‑njb¯‑ns‑â h‑niIe\¯‑n\‑v U‑na‑m¤‑nt‑b‑m B{‑ib‑n¡‑pIb‑p‑w s‑N¿‑p¶‑p. s‑]‑mX‑ph‑nÂ s‑Se‑nh‑nj³ t‑I{‑µ‑o Ic‑n¨‑p \S¡‑p¶ Bt‑K‑mfhÂ ¡cW I‑mes‑¯ b‑p²]T\ §f‑nÂ \‑n¶‑v C‑u I‑rX‑n¡‑pff I‑mXe‑mb h‑yX‑y‑mk‑w ]{‑X§ s‑f¡‑qS‑n kh‑nk‑vXc‑w AhXc‑n ¸‑n¡‑p¶‑ps‑h¶X‑mW‑v. H³]X‑v A[‑y‑mb§f‑p‑w _d‑mI‑v H_‑mab‑ps‑S I‑mes‑¯ a‑m[‑yac‑m{‑ã‑obs‑¯¡‑pd‑n¨‑pff Hc‑p ]‑n³I‑pd‑n¸‑pa‑pÄs‑¸S‑p¶X‑m W‑v {‑KÙ‑w. [‑mc‑mf‑w Ø‑nX‑n h‑nhc¡W¡‑pIf‑p‑w ]«‑nIIf‑p‑w {‑K‑m^‑pIf‑p‑w s‑I‑mï‑v Ak‑m[‑mc Wa‑mb A¡‑mZa‑nI k‑q£‑vaX b‑p‑w a‑nIh‑p‑w s‑s‑Ih¶‑n«‑pa‑pï‑v C‑u ]T\¯‑n\‑v. sabv 2014

H¶‑ma[‑y‑mb‑w Cd‑m¡‑nÂ \‑n¶‑pff At‑ac‑n¡³ s‑s‑k\‑y ¯‑ns‑â ]‑n·‑mäs‑¯ c‑m{‑ã‑ob a‑mb‑n h‑niIe\‑w s‑N¿‑p¶‑p. At‑ac‑n¡³ ]{‑X§f‑mb \‑y‑q t‑b‑mÀ¡‑v s‑s‑S‑wk‑v‑, h‑mj‑n‑wK‑vS¬ t‑]‑mÌ‑v F¶‑nhb‑p‑w {‑_‑n«‑oj‑v ]{‑X§f‑mb s‑s‑S‑wk‑v‑, C³U‑n s‑]³Uâ‑v F¶‑nhb‑p‑w F³._‑n.k‑n‑, F._‑n.k‑n‑, k‑n._‑n. Fk‑v‑, _‑n.F³.F³. F¶‑o N‑m\e‑pIf‑p‑w a‑p³\‑nÀ¯‑nb‑mW‑v U‑na‑m¤‑nt‑b‑m C‑u A]{‑KY\‑w \S¯‑p¶X‑v. At‑ac‑n¡³ a‑m[‑y a§s‑f¡‑mÄ h‑mÀ¯‑m s‑s‑hh‑n [‑yh‑p‑w k‑wh‑mZ‑mßI \‑ne]‑mS‑p If‑p‑w k‑zX{‑´ ka‑o]\§f‑p‑w {‑_‑n«‑oj‑v a‑m[‑ya§Ä¡‑ps‑ï¶‑v C‑u h‑niIe\‑w s‑Xf‑nb‑n¡‑p¶‑p. At‑ac‑n¡³ a‑m[‑ya§f‑ns‑e

_l‑p`‑qc‑n]£‑w b‑p²h‑mÀ¯ If‑ps‑Sb‑p‑w Ddh‑nS‑w `cWI‑qS h‑p‑w s‑s‑k\‑nIh‑r¯§f‑pa‑mI‑p t‑¼‑mÄ C³U‑ns‑]³Uâ‑v DÄ s‑¸s‑Sb‑pff ]{‑X§f‑ps‑S \‑ne ]‑mS‑v h‑yX‑yk‑vXa‑mW‑v. AX‑nk‑q £‑vaa‑mb X‑mcXa‑y]T\§f‑ne‑q s‑S U‑na‑m¤‑nt‑b‑m a‑m[‑ya§f‑ps‑S b‑p²c‑m{‑ã‑ob‑w ad\‑o¡‑n¡‑mW‑n ¡‑p¶‑p. k‑n.F³.F³. N‑m\e‑n s‑e b‑p²h‑mÀ¯If‑ps‑S h‑n]‑pe a‑mb A]{‑KY\a‑mW‑v C‑ub[‑y‑m b¯‑ns‑e Gäh‑p‑w {‑it‑²ba‑mb `‑mK‑w. cï‑ma[‑y‑mb‑w‑, At‑ac‑n¡³ a‑m[‑ya§Ä b‑p²h‑nc‑p² {‑]Ø‑m\§Ä¡‑p \ÂI‑nb {‑]X‑n\‑n[‑m\¯‑ns‑â h‑niIe\ a‑mW‑v. \‑y‑qt‑b‑mÀ¡‑v s‑s‑S‑wk‑v DÄs‑¸s‑Sb‑pff ]{‑X§f‑p‑w

(45) s‑s‑S‑w DÄs‑¸s‑Sb‑pff h‑mc‑nII f‑p‑w k‑n.F³.F³. DÄs‑¸s‑Sb‑p ff N‑m\e‑pIf‑p‑w a‑p³\‑nÀ¯‑n Cd‑m¡‑v A[‑n\‑nt‑hi¯‑ns‑\ X‑ns‑c At‑ac‑n¡b‑nÂ \S¶ P\I‑ob {‑]t‑£‑m`§s‑f a‑m[‑ya §Ä F§s‑\ Xak‑vIc‑n¨‑ps‑h ¶‑v C‑u ]T\‑w s‑Xf‑nb‑n¡‑p¶‑p. a‑m[‑ya§f‑ps‑S b‑p²c‑mj‑v{‑S‑ob ¯‑nÂ Gäh‑p‑w {‑]‑m[‑m\‑ya‑pff t‑aJeIf‑ns‑e‑m¶‑mW‑v b‑p² h‑nc‑p² {‑]t‑£‑m`§f‑ps‑S Xak‑vIcW‑w. b‑p²¯‑n\\‑pI‑q ea‑mW‑v a‑pXe‑mf‑n¯ a‑m[‑ya §Ä GX‑ms‑ï‑m¶S¦‑w F¶ hk‑vX‑pXb‑ps‑S Gäh‑p‑w he‑nb s‑Xf‑nh‑mW‑v C‑u ka‑o]\‑w. a‑q¶‑ma[‑y‑mb‑w‑, b‑p²¯‑ne‑p‑w At‑ac‑n¡b‑ps‑S h‑nt‑Zi\b¯‑n e‑p‑w {‑]ISa‑mI‑p¶ a\‑pj‑y‑mh I‑mi [‑z‑wk\§f‑ps‑S ad\‑o¡‑p ¶‑p. Nc‑n{‑X¯‑ns‑â CcIs‑f k‑m{‑a‑mP‑y¯‑ns‑â t‑h«¡‑mÀ I‑mW‑ms‑X t‑]‑mI‑p¶‑p. Cd‑m¡‑n Â \S¶ I‑q«¡‑pc‑pX‑nIÄ‑, F®¡‑pt‑hï‑nb‑pff K‑qV X{‑´§Ä‑, a[‑y]‑qÀt‑hj‑yb‑ns‑e a‑m[‑ya CSs‑]Se‑pIf‑ps‑S ]c‑n a‑nX‑nIÄ‑, ]‑ni‑mNhÂ¡c‑n¡ s‑¸« CÉ‑ma‑nIt‑e‑mI‑w F¶‑n§ s‑\ \‑nch[‑n h‑njb§f‑nt‑e¡‑v C‑ub[‑y‑mb‑w h‑ncÂ N‑qï‑p¶‑p. \‑me‑ma[‑y‑mb‑w Cd‑m¡‑p‑w `‑oIcXs‑¡X‑nc‑mb b‑p² (War on Terror‑)h‑p‑w X½‑ne‑pff _Ô‑w h‑niZ‑oIc‑n¡‑p¶‑p. a‑m[‑ya§f‑n s‑e h‑mÀ¯‑m\‑nÀ½‑mW¯‑ns‑â k‑q£‑vac‑m{‑ã‑ob§Ä h‑niIe \‑w s‑Nb‑vX‑ps‑I‑mï‑v At‑ac‑n¡ ³þ{‑_‑n«‑oj‑v a‑m[‑ya§Ä X‑mcX a‑y‑w s‑Nb‑vX‑v Ahb‑ps‑S ka‑o] \ s‑s‑hc‑p[‑y§Ä X‑pd¶‑pI‑mW‑n ¡‑p¶‑p C‑ub[‑y‑mb‑w. K‑mÀU‑nb ³‑, C³U‑ns‑]³Uâ‑v‑, \‑y‑qt‑Ì ä‑vk‑va³ F¶‑o ]{‑X§Ä a‑p³ \‑nÀ¯‑nb‑mW‑v At‑ac‑n¡³ k‑m{‑a‑mP‑y¯þ`cWI‑qSþa‑pXe‑m f‑n¯ X‑mÂ]c‑y§f‑nÂ \‑n¶‑p‑w `‑n¶a‑mb‑n X‑qe‑nI Ne‑n¸‑n¡‑p¶ {‑_‑n«‑oj‑v a‑m[‑ya§f‑ps‑S \b ka‑o]\§Ä U‑na‑m¤‑nt‑b‑m N‑qï‑n¡‑mW‑n¡‑p¶X‑v. Cd‑m\‑ns‑e BWh ]c‑n]‑mS‑n Is‑fs‑¨‑mÃ‑n c‑q]‑ws‑I‑mï Bt‑K‑mfc‑m{‑ã‑ob a‑m[‑yab‑p²a‑m

W‑v A©‑ma[‑y‑mb¯‑ns‑e NÀ¨‑mh‑njb‑w. BWh`‑oX‑nb‑p s‑S c‑mj‑v{‑S‑ob‑w k‑rã‑n¨‑ps‑I‑m ï‑v Cd‑ms‑â t‑aÂ At‑ac‑n¡ s‑Ne‑p¯‑nb k½À±X{‑´§f‑p s‑S a‑m[‑yac‑q]§Ä X‑pd¶‑pI‑m« s‑¸S‑p¶‑p‑, Ch‑ns‑S. t‑\ct‑¯ k‑qN‑n¸‑n¨ ]{‑X§Ä¡‑p‑w h‑mc‑n IIÄ¡‑p‑w ]‑pds‑a N‑n¡‑mt‑K‑m {‑S‑n_‑y‑q¬ DÄs‑¸s‑Sb‑pff At‑ac‑n¡³ a‑m[‑ya§f‑p‑w C¡t‑W‑ma‑nÌ‑v DÄs‑¸s‑Sb‑pff {‑_‑n«‑oj‑v a‑m[‑ya§f‑p‑w Nc‑n{‑X‑w k‑rã‑n¨ C‑u h‑nh‑mZ¯‑nÂ ]s‑¦S‑p¯X‑ns‑â c‑m{‑ã‑ob‑w U‑na‑m¤‑nt‑b‑m h‑niZ‑oIc‑n¡‑p¶‑p. Bd‑ma[‑y‑mb‑w‑, At‑ac‑n¡³ {‑_‑n«‑oj‑v a‑m[‑ya§Ä¡‑ps‑hf‑nb‑n Â‑, Bt‑K‑mf a‑m[‑ya§Ä Cd‑m ¡‑v b‑p²s‑¯¡‑pd‑n¨‑p k‑rã‑n¨ {‑]X‑oX‑nIf‑p‑w h‑y‑mJ‑y‑m\§f‑p‑w h‑niIe\‑w s‑N¿‑p¶‑p. Bt‑K‑mf hÂ¡cW I‑mes‑¯ \h s‑I‑m t‑f‑mW‑nbÂ a‑m[‑yac‑m{‑ã‑ob¯‑n s‑â H¶‑m´c‑w a‑mX‑rIIf‑ns‑e‑m ¶‑mb‑n a‑md‑p¶‑p‑, C‑ub[‑y‑mb¯‑n s‑e NÀ¨. ]‑mÝ‑mX‑yþa‑pXe‑mf‑n ¯ t‑e‑mI{‑Ia‑w‑, CÉ‑ma‑nI‑, F® c‑m{‑ã§t‑f‑mS‑p s‑s‑Is‑¡‑m ff‑p¶ s‑]‑mX‑p\b§f‑ps‑S k‑m¼¯‑nIh‑p‑w k‑ma‑ql‑nIh‑p a‑mb ka‑o]\§f‑ps‑Sb‑p‑w Ah b‑v¡‑v ]‑mÝ‑mX‑y þ e‑n_dÂ a‑m[‑ya§Ä \ÂI‑p¶ ]‑n´‑pW b‑ps‑Sb‑p‑w A]{‑KY\a‑mb‑n a‑md‑p ¶‑p C‑ub[‑y‑mb‑w. ]X‑na‑q¶‑p c‑m{‑ã§f‑nÂ \‑n¶‑pff C‑w¥‑oj‑v‑, k‑v]‑m\‑nj‑v ]{‑X§f‑ps‑S Ah t‑e‑mI\‑w Ch‑ns‑Sb‑pï‑v. s‑]‑mX‑pP\‑m`‑n{‑]‑mb‑w (Public opinion‑) F¶ k¦e‑v]\¯‑ns‑â b‑p‑w AX‑v a‑m[‑ya]T\¯‑nÂ s‑Ne‑p¯‑p¶ k‑z‑m[‑o\¯‑ns‑â b‑p‑w NÀ¨b‑ne‑qs‑S Cd‑m¡‑v b‑p² ¯‑ns‑â a‑m[‑yac‑m{‑ã‑obs‑¯b‑p‑w b‑p²h‑nc‑p²Xb‑ps‑S Xak‑vIcW s‑¯b‑p‑w kb‑pà‑nIa‑mb s‑]‑mX‑pP\‑m`‑n{‑]‑mb¯‑ns‑â A`‑mhs‑¯b‑ps‑a‑ms‑¡ X‑pd¶‑p I‑mW‑n¡‑p¶‑p‑, Gg‑ma[‑y‑mb‑w. s‑]‑mX‑pP\‑m`‑n{‑]‑mbh‑p‑w {‑]N‑mcW c‑m{‑ã‑obh‑p‑w X½‑ne‑p ff k‑wLÀj‑w b‑p²h‑mÀ¯I Ä a‑p³\‑nÀ¯‑n h‑niIe\‑w s‑N¿‑p¶ F«‑ma[‑y‑mb‑w CX‑ns‑â

X‑pSÀ¨b‑mb‑n I‑mW‑m‑w. Cd‑m³‑, Cd‑m¡‑v‑, A^‑vK‑m\‑nØ‑m³ F¶‑o c‑m{‑ã§f‑ps‑S t‑\À¡‑v At‑ac‑n¡³ `cWI‑qSh‑p‑w a‑m[‑y a§f‑p‑w s‑s‑Is‑¡‑mï ka‑o]\ §Ä s‑k]‑vX‑w_À 11\‑v a‑p³]‑p‑w ]‑n³]‑p‑w F¶ \‑neb‑nÂ cï‑m b‑n h‑n`P‑n¨‑p h‑niZ‑oIc‑n¡‑m\‑p ff {‑iah‑pa‑pï‑v‑, C‑u `‑mK¯‑v. b‑p²‑w a‑p³\‑nÀ¯‑n k½X‑n \‑nÀ½‑mW¯‑ne‑p‑w {‑]N‑mcW c‑m{‑ã‑ob¯‑ne‑p‑w APï‑ms‑kä‑n‑w K‑ne‑ps‑a‑ms‑¡ a‑m[‑ya§Ä hl‑n ¡‑p¶ ]¦‑ns‑â Nc‑n{‑X]ch‑p‑w s‑s‑k²‑m´‑nIh‑pa‑mb NÀ¨b‑m W‑v Ahk‑m\ A[‑y‑mb‑w. KÄ^‑v b‑p²‑w a‑p³\‑nÀ¯‑ns‑bg‑p Xs‑¸« Ak‑wJ‑y‑w a‑m[‑ya]T\ §f‑ps‑S c‑wK¯‑v U‑na‑m¤‑nt‑b‑mh‑n s‑â {‑KÙ‑w t‑hd‑n«‑p\‑nÂ¡‑p¶X‑v C‑u Nc‑n{‑X]cXb‑p‑w s‑s‑k²‑m ´‑nI `{‑ZXb‑p‑w s‑I‑mï‑pXs‑¶ b‑mW‑v. P\‑m[‑n]X‑yc‑mP‑y§f‑nÂ t‑]‑me‑p‑w a‑m[‑ya§Ä `cWI‑qS X‑mÂ]c‑y§Äs‑¡‑m¸‑w \‑ne s‑I‑mff‑p¶X‑ns‑â `‑oX‑nZa‑mb h‑niIe\a‑mb‑n a‑md‑p¶‑p‑, AX‑p hg‑n C‑u ]T\‑w. H_‑mab‑ps‑S I‑me¯‑p‑w At‑a c‑n¡³ `cWI‑qS‑w I‑mXe‑mb a‑mäs‑a‑m¶‑p‑w b‑p²c‑mj‑v{‑S‑ob¯‑n Â hc‑p¯‑nb‑nÃ; a‑m[‑ya§f‑p‑w. d‑n¸»‑n¡³‑, Ut‑a‑m{‑I‑mä‑v ]‑mÀ«‑n If‑nÂ GX‑v A[‑nI‑mc¯‑nÂ h¶‑me‑p‑w At‑ac‑n¡b‑ps‑S h‑nt‑Z i\bh‑p‑w k‑m¼¯‑nI \bh‑p‑w a‑m[‑ya\bh‑ps‑a‑ms‑¡ GX‑m s‑ï‑m¶‑p Xs‑¶b‑mb‑nc‑n¡‑p‑w. N‑pc‑p¡¯‑nÂ‑, Hc‑p c‑m{‑ã¯‑n s‑âb‑p‑w P\Xb‑ps‑Sb‑p‑w Gäh‑p‑w I‑mXe‑mb c‑m{‑ã‑ob \b§f‑n s‑e‑m¶‑nt‑\‑mS‑v B c‑mP‑ys‑¯ a‑pJ‑y[‑mc‑m a‑m[‑ya§Ä k‑z‑oIc‑n ¡‑p¶ ka‑o]\¯‑ns‑â AX‑nk‑q£‑vaa‑mb A¡‑mZa‑nI h‑niIe\s‑a¶ \‑neb‑nÂ U‑na‑m¤‑nt‑b‑mh‑ns‑â C‑u {‑KÙ‑w {‑it‑²ba‑mb Hc‑p a‑m[‑ya]T\ a‑mX‑rIb‑mW‑v a‑pt‑¶‑m«‑phb‑v¡‑p¶X‑v. {ioi¦c kÀÆIemimebnð aebmfw A[ym]I\mWv teJI³. teJIsâ Cþsabvð: shajijacob67@gmail.com sabv 2014

(46) Bookshelf New Books @ Academy Library

PR 2.0

Deirdre K. Breakenridge FT Press 304 Pages; Price Rs. 1,135.00 P.R. 2.0 is a must-read for any marketing or PR professional. It is filled with expert advice, realworld examples, and practical guidance to help us better understand the new media tools and social networking concepts available and how we can use them for our specific branding needs. This book is excellent for someone who is trying to understand the new web-based media and social networking concepts, as well those who are experienced in applying the new media tools and are curious about what everyone else is doing and what tools are producing the best ROI. This isn’t a book filled with simple tips and tricks--it’s an essential guidebook for the marketing/PR professional to better understand the new media options and how to apply them effectively to achieve results. Whether you are a young PR professional just starting out, or an old timer just getting involved in the new media landscape, you will find Breakenridge’s book to be a must read. sabv 2014

The Routledge Companion to News and Journalism

Editor: Stuart Allan Taylor & Francis 688 Pages; Price Rs. 3,130.00

The Routledge Companion to News and Journalism presents an authoritative, comprehensive assessment of diverse forms of news media reporting – past, present and future. Including 60 chapters, written by an outstanding team of internationally respected authors, the Companion provides scholars and students with a reliable, historically informed guide to news media and journalism studies. The Companion is organised to address a series of themes pertinent to the on-going theoretical and methodological development of news and journalism studies around the globe. The Routledge Companion to News and Journalism provides an essential guide to key ideas, issues, concepts and debates, while also stressing the value of reinvigorating scholarship with a critical eye to developments in the professional realm.

Visual Journalism: A Guide For New Media Professionals Kishore Sharma Centrum Press 330 Pages; Price Rs. 995.00

Visual journalism is not a series of symbols with precise meanings but rather images that suggest complex meanings and, in the Egyptian tradition of the cartouche, contain words. The symbols do not simply represent but participate in the meaning and, in combination with evocative phrases, are designed to provoke creative thinking. Visual language is one tool described by author Daniel Pink in his book A Whole New Mind for the emerging “conceptual age” where people must tolerate ambiguity and communicate quickly, often before concepts are ready to be captured in traditional writing. Hope this book will help in exploring in depth of the latest acquired developments in visual Journalism. The Author, Kishore Sharma, is a renowned Journalist. Most recently, he was deputy editor at an arts and entertainment magazine in Leeds.

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]c‑ni‑oe\‑w \ÂI‑nb‑n«‑pï‑v. C³Ì‑nS‑y‑q«‑ns‑â {‑]hÀ¯\§Ä h‑nhc‑n¡‑p¶ s‑s‑kä‑mW‑nX‑v. ^‑mÎ‑vk‑v, t‑I‑mH‑m¸t‑dj³‑, Ì‑mS‑y‑q«‑v F¶‑o h‑n`‑m K§f‑nÂ \‑n¶‑v C³Ì‑nS‑y‑q«‑ns‑â s‑]‑mX‑p k‑z`‑mh‑w‑, {‑]hÀ¯\ c‑oX‑n X‑pS§‑nbh a\k‑ne‑m¡‑m‑w. CX‑ns‑e s‑{‑]‑mPÎ‑vk‑v F¶ h‑n`‑mK¯‑nÂ H‑mt‑c‑m hÀjh‑p‑w C³Ì‑nS‑y‑q«‑v \S¯‑p¶ t‑I‑mg‑vk‑pIf‑ps‑S h‑nhc§Ä I‑n«‑p‑w. C‑u hÀjs‑¯ t‑I‑mg‑vk‑pIf‑ps‑S h‑nhc §Ä t‑NÀ¯‑n«‑nÃ. ]gb hÀj§f‑p s‑S e‑n¦‑pIÄ t‑\‑m¡‑nb‑mÂ C³Ì‑nS‑y‑q «‑ns‑â t‑I‑mg‑vk‑pIf‑ps‑S k‑z`‑mh‑w a\ k‑ne‑m¡‑m‑w. C³Ì‑nS‑y‑q«‑v t‑Icf¯‑ne‑p‑w a‑p³]‑v i‑nÂ]i‑meIÄ k‑wLS‑n¸‑n¨‑n«‑pï‑v. C¯c‑w i‑nÂ]i‑meIf‑nÂ ]s‑¦S‑p¯‑n «‑pÅhÀ¡‑v t‑I‑mï‑mÎ‑v h‑n`‑mK¯‑ns‑e Ae‑pa‑v\‑n h‑n`‑mK¯‑nÂ cP‑nÌÀ s‑N¿‑m‑w. Ae‑pa‑v\‑n AÃ‑m¯hÀ¡‑p‑w k‑uP\‑ya‑mb‑n s‑s‑kä‑nÂ cP‑nÌÀ

s‑N¿‑mh‑p¶X‑mW‑v-. C³Ì‑nS‑y‑q«‑ns‑â h‑nh‑n[ {‑]hÀ¯\§f‑nÂ ]¦‑mf‑nIf‑m I‑m³ C§s‑\ cP‑nÌÀ s‑N¿‑p¶hÀ ¡‑p k‑m[‑n¡‑p‑w.

thÄUv {]kv C³ÌnSyq«v At‑ac‑n¡b‑ns‑e a‑n\‑nbt‑]‑me‑nk‑v t‑I{‑µa‑m¡‑n {‑]hÀ¯‑n¡‑p¶ t‑hÄU‑v {‑]k‑v C³Ì‑nS‑y‑q«‑ns‑\¡‑pd‑n¨‑v I‑qS‑pXÂ I‑mc‑y§Ä www.worldpressinstitu te.org F¶ s‑s‑kä‑nÂ \‑n¶‑p a\k‑n e‑m¡‑m‑w. c‑mP‑y‑m´c Xe¯‑nÂ ]{‑X {‑]hÀ¯IÀ¡‑mb‑n k‑vt‑I‑mfÀj‑n¸‑v \ ÂI‑p¶X‑mW‑v- C³Ì‑nS‑y‑q«‑ns‑â {‑][‑m \ Z‑uX‑y§f‑ns‑e‑m¶‑v. k‑zX{‑´ a‑m[‑ya {‑]hÀ¯\¯‑ns‑â h‑nh‑n[ hi§Ä c‑mP‑y‑m´cXe¯‑nÂ {‑]Nc‑n¸‑n¡‑pI F¶X‑mW‑v- C³Ì‑nS‑y‑q«‑v {‑i² t‑I{‑µ‑o Ic‑n¡‑p¶ as‑ä‑mc‑p t‑aJe. C³Ì‑nS‑y‑q «‑ns‑â A³]X‑m‑w h‑mÀj‑nI‑w C‑u hÀj‑w Bt‑L‑mj‑n¡‑pIb‑mW‑v-. C³Ì‑nS‑y‑q«‑ns‑â s‑^t‑Ã‑mj‑n¸‑ns‑\ I‑pd‑n¨‑v s‑^t‑Ã‑mj‑n¸‑v F¶ h‑n`‑mK ¯‑nÂ \‑n¶‑p a\k‑ne‑m¡‑m‑w. H‑mt‑c‑m hÀjs‑¯b‑p‑w s‑^t‑Ã‑mj‑n¸‑v I‑n«‑p¶

hs‑c U»‑y‑p.]‑n.s‑F. s‑^t‑Ã‑mk‑v F¶ h‑n`‑mK¯‑nÂ ]c‑nNbs‑¸S‑p¯‑p¶‑p. Chs‑cg‑pX‑nb t‑»‑mK‑pIf‑p‑w C³Ì‑nä‑y‑q «‑ns‑â ]T\ d‑nt‑¸‑mÀ«‑pIf‑p‑w aä‑p‑w U»‑y‑p.]‑n.s‑F. d‑nt‑¸‑mÀ«‑vk‑v F¶ h‑n`‑mK¯‑nÂ \‑n¶‑p I‑n«‑p‑w. awKfw Zn\]{X¯nsâ ko\nbÀ \yqkv FUnädmWv teJI³. teJIsâ Cþsabvð: epshajudeen@gmail.com sabv 2014

C\n A¡mZanbnð \nópw aäp {]kv A¡mZan {]kn²oIcn¡pó ]pkvXI§Ä¡p ]pdsa aebmf¯nse aäp {]apJ {]km[IcpsS am[yakw_Ônbmb ]pkvXI§fpw C\n apXð {]kv A¡mZanbnð \nópw e`n¡pw.

{]kv A-¡mZ-an {]-kn-²o-I-c-W§Ä 1. hr¯m´]{X{]hÀ¯\w kztZim`nam\n cmaIrjvW]n-Å 2. kztZim`nam\n þ cmPt{Zmlnbmb cmPykvt\ln Sn.thWptKm]me³ 3. F.sI.]nÅ: BZÀi§fpsS càkm£n F.cm[mIrjvW³ 4. s\òenbpsS I¼n sI.sI.taml\³ 5. Im¼ntÈcn þ Imew Im¯ph¨ ]{Xm[n]À sI.kpµtci³ 6. hmÀ¯bpsS inð]ime F³.F³.kXy{hX³ 7. aebmf ]{X`mj þ hnImk ]cnWma§Ä hn.]n.kpss_À 8. hmÀ¯ IY hyhlmcw BâWn kn tUhnkv 9. dnt¸mÀ«À {]ikvXcmb apXnÀó 18 ]{X{]hÀ¯-IÀ, FUnäÀ : C.]n.jmPp±o³ 10. hn]nBÀ dohnknäUv A¦nX NocI¯nð

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aäv {]-km-[-I-cp-sS ]p-kv-X-I§Ä tI-c-f `m-jm C³-Ìn-äyq«v

11. kb³kv tPÀWenkw 12. sI.kpIpamcsâ ]{XtemIw 13. C´ybnse ]{Xhn¹hw 14. am[ya§fpw B\pImenI kmaqlnI {]iv\§fpw 15. `mcXob ]{XNcn{Xw 16. ]{XNcn{X¯nse HmÀ½ Nn{X§Ä 17. kn.hn. Ipªncma³ PohnXw, Imew \thm°m\w 18. ]ÝntamZbw 19. Zriy{imhy am[ya§Ä 20. cmPy kamNmcw

tUm.A\nðIpamÀ hShmXqÀ s{]m^.AcpamóqÀ \nÀ½em\µ³ tdm_n³ sP{^n, hnh: ]n.sI.inhZmkv

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s{]m^.sP.hn.hnf\new Fw.hn.tXmakv

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tUm.A\nðIpamÀ hShmXqÀ

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kamlcWw : lmjnw cmP³ hÅn¡mhv taml³Zmkv Hcp kwLw teJIÀ hÅn¡mhv taml³Zmkv

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{]km[IcpsS ]pkvXI§fpw A¡mZan {]kn²oIcW§Ä¡v 30% Dw aäp {]km[IcpsS ]pkvXI§Ä¡v 20% iXam\ hpw Ingnhpw e`n¡pw. Im¡\ms« A¡mZan Hm^oknð \nóv t\cnt«m X]mð hgntbm ]pkvXI§Ä e`yamWv. IqSpXð hnhc§Ä¡v t^m¬: 0484 2422275

tI-c-f km-ln-Xy A-¡mZan 21. ]{X{]hÀ¯\w hgnbpw hkvXpXbpw 22. ]{Xw Ncn{Xw ]h\³ 23. BZyIme amknIIÄ 24. h\nXm ]{X{]hÀ¯\w Ncn{Xhpw hÀ¯am\hpw 25. tIcf ]{X{]hÀ¯\ Ncn{Xw 26. ktlmZc³ A¿¸³ {]t£m`Imcnbmb ]{X{]hÀ¯I³ 27. sISmhnf¡v 28. Ipamc\mimsâ apJ{]kwK§Ä 29. Fsâ aebmfw 30. Im¼nticn 31. sI.kn.am½³ am¸nf 32. ]n.{io[csâ teJ\§Ä 33. tIcf ]{X{]hÀ¯\ {]mcw` kzcq]w 34. am[ya§fpw aebmf kmlnXyhpw 35. kn.]n.{io[c³ aebmf kmlnXy¯nð

Znt\iv hÀ½ ]h\³ Pn.{]nbZÀi\³

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F.IrjvWIpamcn ]pXp¸Ån cmLh³

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Pn. {]nbZÀi³ k¼mZ\wþF.Cµnc Pn.{]nbZÀi\³ tUm.F.kn.hmkp tUm.km_p tIm«p¡ð Fw.sI.km\p ]n.{io[c³ Pn.{]nbZÀi\³ Fw.hn.tXmakv hn.]n.tPmkv

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am-Xr-`qan 36. ho£W hntijw tXmakv 37. hcnIÄ¡¸pdw Ipð±o]v \¿mÀ 38. amdpó temIw amdpó am[yatemIw F³.]n.cmtP{µ³ 39. t^mÀ¯v FtÌänsâ acWw F³.]n.cmtP{µ³ 40. ]{X{]hÀ¯I\mb KmÔnPn F_n.]n tPmbv 41. amXr`qanbpw Fkv.sI.s]msä¡mSpw þþ 42. amXr`qanbpw _jodpw þþ 43. aebmf A¨Sn am[yaw `qXhpw hÀ¯am\hpw PbcmPv Fw.

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temIw Iï hc A´Àt±iob am²yacwKs¯ {]ikvXamb ImÀ«qWpIsf ]cnNbs¸Sp¯pIbmWv Cu ]wànbnð. amXr`qan ImÀ«qWnÌv Bb tKm]oIrjvW\mWv Ch XncsªSp¯v AhXcn¸n¡póXv.

Gôð t_mfnK³ tImÀs_m {]ikvX emän\tacn¡³ ImÀ«qWnÌmb tImÀt_m, K{_ntbð KmÀjy amÀtIkn\v BZcmRvPenIÄ AÀ¸n¨psImïv hc¨ ImÀ«qWmWnXv. Iyq_bnse lhm\bnð 1965ð P\n¨ Gôð t_mfnK³ tImÀs_m 1992 apXð saIvkn t¡mbnemWv Pohn¨phcpóXv. ¹mÌnIv BÀ«nð _ncpZw t\Snb tImÀs_m hnhn[ {]kn²o IcW§fnð FUnädpw Cñt{Ìädpw ImÀ«qWnÌpambn {]hÀ¯n¨n«pïv. Ct¸mÄ "Fð jmapsIm' Fó lmkyamKknsâ FUntämdnbð ImÀ«qWnÌmWv. \qdntesd ]pckvImc§Ä t\Sn bn«pÅ tImÀs_m ImÀ«qWnÌpIfpsS \nch[n A´ÀtZiob kwLS\Ifnepw {]apJ Øm\ §Ä hln¡póp. tKm]oIrjvWsâ Cþsabvð: cartoonistgopikrishnan@gmail.com Printed and Published by V. R. Ajith Kumar, Secretary, On behalf of the Kerala Press Academy, Published from Kerala Press Academy, Kakkanad, Kochi – 682 030; Printed at Sterling Print House Pvt Ltd, Edappally; Editor: N. P. Rajendran.

{]kv A¡mZanbnð \nópÅ ]pXnb ]pkv X I§Ä

Media Monthly | May 2014 | ` 20/- | RNI Reg No. KERBIL/2000/1676