To Sir With Love

Years ago in school, a lesson in the English reader, 'To Sir With Love' introduced me to ER Braithwaite - the teacher I searched for among the numerous who I encountered over the first twenty two years of my academic life - the time from pre-school to a masters degree in journalism that is. ER Braithwaite set a benchmark - of a teacher who allowed freedom -free thought, free expression and above all - one who did not homogenise the heterogenous community of students that he taught.

Through school and later college, I was known for my precociousness - not the ill-mannered variety, mind you, but the desire to question what is normally followed as rote, to eke the extra bit out of lessons. I wonder how many students can vouch like me that I still remember the lessons learnt in school - I can still quote poems from the Std 3 reader or joke around about the ways in which I tried simplifying differentiation and calculating the trajectory of a projectile - the latter part with little success.

But the precocious me was also a puppy - a teacher's puppy - easily influenced by teachers who loved their topics, who were able to impart that love for their subject to students. Teachers who stood out because they made their subjects come alive using just a blackboard, a couple of chalks and some well-aimed dusters at errant mischief-makers in the backbenches.

Two English teachers left their mark on me while in school. The first one was a lady named Ranjini Varma - I wonder where she is now. She had innovative games in those free periods that she would have once the lessons for the semester were completed. For instance, imagine a teacher goading students to stretch the limits of their imagination and vocabulary by giving us an emotion or a word and asking us to co-relate it with something tangible. So those who related 'soft' to 'sponge' would get a smile, while the one student I remember who said a 'baby's cheek' got a dreamy look from her and I could feel the power of imagination.

Yet another was Indira R Menon, the gentlest teacher I knew - who time and again made me compete with myself to improve my command and fluency over handling what was essentially a foreign language. The love she inculcated in me saw me ditch the science stream that every semi-gifted student in my era was pre-destined to enroll for and announce that I was going to major in English. Thankfully, long suffering parents knew better than to dissuade me and so began my life-long love affair with the language that would mould my career and personality.

Broadcast journalism was an accident - asked to make a choice between the different streams on offer at my college, I gravitated towards the medium that seemed to have a bigger power over classes and masses alike. And it was there that I met the third teacher - Joseph Pinto - one who preferred Joe over Sir, informality over a formal association. Joe taught us copy writing and sub-editing in the first year of my post-graduation. His reputation preceded him, he made fans of his students through his militant style of teaching. Those fans,who could later be only called 'converts'. So 'word of mouth' was that a wrong step in Joe's classes and he would shred you to bits.

In the first couple of classes, I sat quietly, a couple of benches from the back - my preferred seat through my academic life- gauging him. What he taught me wasn't in all honesty anything I hadn't studied during my degree in communicative english. But it was how he taught it that made the impact. The constant testing of our abilities, literally throwing us challenges and seeing who rose up to it. He hated superfluous usages, hated unnecessary words, worshipped the simple style of journalistic story telling that wove 5Ws and the single H. The lessons learnt in those years came in handy years later, when I was training young trainees in the art of copywriting.

Over the years, since college, Joe and I lost touch -  for while in college, I was never one of those who made a conscious effort to get into a teacher's good book. And so it was but normal, that there wasn't an exchange of email ids or the promise to stay in touch. I have seen very little of Pune since 2001 - the year I left Symbiosis and moved to begin my career with Aaj Tak.

Years later, I think in 2009, when Facebook had become a rage, I received a friend invite from a Joseph Pinto - the name rang a bell but the recall wasn't instant. You don't expect your teachers to send you a friend invite on facebook, do you? It was when I saw my Symbiosis seniors and classmates on his long and fast increasing list of friends that I made the connect. Joe was getting back in touch with me and I wondered if he remembered who I was. Turns out all it took to jog his memory was a description of where I sat in class. Strange isn't it, considering that we were not the only batch he taught, but one notch in a series of academic years and thousands of eager faced journalism trainees that passed through Symbiosis' classroom.

To date, he meticulously reads most of what I write- is unforgiving with loose usages, meticulous with criticism and effusive when he likes something that he reads. What more can you ask for in a teacher? He's my ER Braithwaite and as he celebrates his 60th birthday on Sunday, I wanted him to know the role he played in my life. That's the gift he sought from his students, that's the least I can offer him.

I can't be in Pune on Saturday as he holds court with his wife and daughter over tea and biscuits. I am sure a number of his students - old and new will weave their way to the Pinto household to be with him. I can't be one of them, but I don't want Joe to be in any doubt that my wish for him is that he continues to inspire many more students to discover their individuality and pursue their convictions.

Here's raising a toast to you, Joe - To Sir With Love.

New Year..New Resolutions, New Musings?

Happy New Year Bloggies...

The holiday season for me was about returning to my old love - films. A snug duvet, a cup of hot chocolate and some good films and I think I can survive without friends or food - ok that's a gross exaggeration, but this love needed a gross exaggeration to drive in the magnitude.

So I revisited Tara where Scarlett grew up (Gone with the Wind), also travelled along country roads in Clint Eastwood's beat up truck to meet Meryl Streep (Bridges of Madison County), chuckled hard and joined Amelie mentally as she went about dropping little drops of goodness in the lives of those around her..

That set me thinking..in every movie I saw a bit of myself - without sounding terribly self-indulgent, I hazard to ask..Is it just me or isnt this the way women watch films? Identifying and empathising with characters they like and then juxtaposing their life experiences on these characters and sighing with the same pathos?

Why does it feel like its mandatory to identify with strong women characters in films that you like? Are you in a sense elevating yourself into a glamorous avataar, enjoying seeing yourself portrayed by someone pretty and always unruffled? Or is it a way of admitting to things that your mundane lives don't let you admit to?

I think living and loving on the big screen helps select and dwell on just those things you'd rather see or focus on. The rest is all left in the sub-text, unread and un-pondered over.

Otherwise why is to so dreadful to imagine the ideal couples in the celluloid world suffering their partner's snores, drools, bad breath? Why don't their struggles with reality be as mundane as tummies starting to plop and flop out in under a week after it was tucked in by months of strict diet and exercise or losing a battle against baldness?

Who was it that called films a mode of escapism? Or is it? Doesn't it also alternately inspire and show you a new direction, a new route to get to the root of your problems if you are able to put it into perspective?

It does for me, because I'm the heroine of my life and I end up getting inspired by my heroines..I wait to hear from you before the verdict is passed...

PS: How many of you have New Year Resolutions? Wanna know mine - I want to act in a play or a street play or something where I train my largely paralysed facial muscles to perform on cue!!! Some resolution isnt it??!!

INTROSPECT, INSPECT, QUESTION, DON'T FOLLOW

I had to come back, to sit with you and discuss an issue quite close to my heart. Consider this a heart to heart between us - my title might suggest that I'm being preachy. Trust me I am not. Once again, I'm trying to be the insider, introspecting with the perspective of an outsider and wondering where the Change can begin from. 

 

I began my career as a broadcast journalist in January 2001. It was the golden age for broadcast journalism. The power of television was what lured me to journalism - not the lure of journalism to television. While many of my peers and friends to date, consider it an inferior medium populated by rhetorical preachers or dumb bimbettes, I still believe Television as a medium is a strong vehicle for views and ideas. 

History apart, the reason why 2001 is important is because over the next 4 years, there was some competitive journalism that followed. Good stories, strong reportage and the coming of age of a number of regional faces - till then only Prannoy Roy and his first bunch of followers had any television recall. News breaks and notching up an exclusive - be it with a visiting cricket captain or even with a film star was counted as a feather in the reporters cap. Those little thrills of climbing up the reporting ladder seem almost like a farce in today's times when Sonia Gandhi's hospitalisation due to a mild fever is breaking news, Hrithik Roshan offering a rose to someone waiting outside his house as a publicity gimmick for his new film is broadcast live!I think primarily it is the lack of strong, gutsy editors with the vision and the courage to make the economics work according to their plans and not vice versa is the biggest bane of television. Individual benchmarks of reporters are like drops in the ocean, you either fit in or ship out. What is needed is a broader editorial culture that does not require a reporter to compromise theirs or their channel's stature by stooping to any lows for the sake of a sound bite, an exclusive story or even some kickbacks in cash or kind from acting as conduits between the deal makers and their signatories.

I strongly believe the Audience cannot sit in judgement of shoddy television and tsk tsk about the state of affairs. If there is a drop in intelligent programming, the viewers have to share blame for laziness creeping into working styles. Viewers of prime time news love rabble rousing, opinionated partisan debates. I have often pondered why when it is merely high on rhetoric and very very low on information and measured analysis. The aam aadmi gets a high out of being part of the crowd that punches down the weak link in the debate,of being one of those in a faceless mob that chanted 'Yes Yes Yes' when a big bully with the power of majority opinion on his side bloodied up a weaker opponent.

News shows and debates are now performances, with journalists exiting out of studios with smirks on their faces and asking a fawning set of fans " Sahi tha na?" Fans and their adoring opinions are cultivated and once a comfort zone is reached - journalists would rather not explore out of their comfort zone. If an Editor A has worked his way to earning the reputation of being a 'nationalistic' then you can be sure that 3 days out of 5 of the week there will be a topic that assures you a jingoistic crusade in the name of nationalism. The 'discerning' junta claim they are aware of the trap he lays by giving a nationalistic twist to every event that is remotely applicable, but come prime time, the remotes automatically tune in to that. My question is Why? 

Excellent programming on Indian television have had to wrap up because the TRPs ( Television Rating Points) weren't high enough. At most editorial meetings in most channels across the country today, stories that do not address 'the target audience' directly are not even touched with a barge pole, irrespective of whether it is a story that the nation needs to know. When the audience has so much power in its hands, is it right to put the blame on the nonsense flooding your tv screens merely on the manufacturers? Customisation has become the buzzword of every commercial venture - marketing decides the editorial thrust thanks to the lack of enough media ventures that don't rate its success or reputation on the basis of advertising money it pulls in. 

Journalists with the fattest paycheques in the industry today are not the best ones - they are the ones you - the audience made into brands by word of mouth and endorsement. They emerged as phenomenons because of you - the audience. So introspect, inspect and question if your choices didn't ultimately create the monsters that you are now so keen to disown. 

It is not enough to say I have never watched any of these shows or that I have total contempt for the people who I'm now glad have been proven to have clay feet. You cannot conveniently link and de-link yourself to the faceless mass called Indian audience. When it comes to sharing responsibility, there is no absolution. 

We are responsible for the rot in journalism, the rot in our entertainment where saas-bahus-and traditions that are not only obsolete but despicable are given a free rein at prime time and looking at the bigger picture - the rampant corruption in every sphere of our society!

The funny thing about India is everyone lives in a glasshouse, so now we have begun throwing pebbles at each others' homes so that the protest is recorded - but no one wants these bastions broken or have to take the pain of rebuilding it. 

Introspect, Inspect, Question..and Please don't just follow.

TIME FOR A BREAK

I suddenly realised the refrain that 'People its been a while since I last posted' has been turned into a cliche..but honestly I think it is time I took a break, soul searched and ruminated over whether this blog needs to be revamped and the issues I talk about turned a little more general..less like a personal diary and more about things I am currently working with and dealing with. I am currently inundated with work, which leaves me with little time to do justice to my Word Sketches..

So I guess in all fairness, I must take a break, recoup, reassess and re-strategise.
Hope some of you will stop by time and again to check up on me as I will on my favourite bloggers and blog posts...:)

and as always, feel free to write to me...I would want to be part of your blogger lives as I can...

for now, adios amigos

Q-wiiii-k Update

A quick hello to all those who have missed my blog or my updates:

It just made me feel warm to begin that way, though I wonder if there was more than a handful who actually noticed that I haven't posted in a while.

My life is currently a blur - I must admit a happy blur, but blur all the same!

Four days of the week are spent in the busy bustling London, gaining some experience at a couple of leading organisation, the rest three days of the week, in the city that's come to become my home away from home - Brighton. Each Thursday afternoon, when I take the train back to Brighton, leaving the noise and rush of London behind, I feel at peace. That lasts exactly for the remaining hours of the day for in Brighton too, my life is choc-a-bloc.

The leisure to 'stand and stare' like Wordsworth had , well, I no longer have it. The Masters is over and in the time before I set sail back for India, there are miles to go...and the Woods in England are lovely, dark and deep. Poetry being liberally cross quoted with Poetic License...

For anyone, reading this, there is no method to this madness...It is just one of those happy posts - to let all of you know, I'm happy and kicking, just pressed for time to come up with some brilliant, thought provoking post -(though I can't remember the last time I wrote one..;)

But but but..there is another little news I wanted to share with you...I'm back to journalism - after about a year's blissful slumber..My byline might be popping up in a number of magazines - for those who do keep a track of it, that is...I'd keep mentioning my favourite pieces here, time and again..Do have a look and let me know..the opinions and suggestions of all of you are very dear to me and I look forward to it..

For now, here's the latest piece that I wrote for OPEN...On the Nobel Prize for Medicine 2010 winner Prof.Robert Edwards...

http://www.openthemagazine.com/article/international/a-fertile-mindpoint

I look forward to hearing from you....

Lots of love and keep me in your prayers,


P.S Many wrote back saying the link hasn't worked..:)

So here goes, a copy paste job...

A Fertile Mind
Robert Edwards’ Nobel Prize speaks not only of his genius, but also of how well test tube babies have been received worldwide. It has taken time, and when faced with early opposition to his work, it helped that he never lost his sense of humour.

BY Deepthy Menon

Dr Mike Macnamee is a busy man, juggling day-to-day affairs of the Bourn Hall Clinic even as he travels across the world, spreading the message of their pioneering work in In-Vitro Fertilisation (IVF). Last Sunday held personal significance for him. After a busy trip across India, he was back in England and enroute to a meeting with his mentor- turned-colleague-turned-friend, Professor Robert Edwards, the man often referred to as the ‘Father of IVF’.

While travelling to the care facility where Professor Edwards now spends his retired life, Dr Macnamee can foresee what will happen. First, he says, will be a warm congratulatory hug, followed by a recap of how the news of the professor’s Nobel Prize has been received across the world. Then, he’s sure, Bob will want to take some time recounting the early days of the Bourn Hill Clinic with Dr Patrick Steptoe, back when IVF techniques were hardly heard of.

For Dr Macnamee, Professor Edwards is ‘Bob’, the man who recruited him over 27 years ago. Meeting Professor Edwards and Dr Patrick Steptoe, the two responsible for the birth of the world’s first test-tube baby, proved to be the biggest turning point of his career. “It was a fantastic opportunity for me,” he says, “I was a young research scientist at that time, working in the theoretical fields of reproduction—it was a real opportunity to do the work first-hand with humans. After four years, I began to understand that the research I was doing in terms of clinical research was probably more important for the future of many families than my scientific research.”

Macnamee grows talkative as he recalls his initial years with his mentor: “Bob was truly inspirational for everybody who worked with him. He has a brilliant mind. It is very difficult to describe him. He was a man of extreme intellect, and yet had the ability to communicate with everybody in their own language. He does enjoy people hugely. Everybody admired and respected him, if not loved him. For a fundamental research scientist to go all the way to collaborate [with a doctor] for a clinical treatment that was robust and delivered good results—that was phenomenal.”

It was actually a chance meeting in 1968 between the gynaecologist Patrick Steptoe and Robert Edwards, who was then a research fellow at the Department of Physiology at Cambridge, that led to the collaboration. One that has changed the lives of millions across the world. Professor Edwards had created the first blastocyst in 1968, and had succeeded in human test-tube fertilisation by 1970. However, it wasn’t until eight years later that their research and trials resulted in a healthy pregnancy leading to the birth of the world’s first ever ‘test-tube baby’, Louise Brown, in July 1978.

In his press statement after the announcement of the Nobel Prize, Professor Edwards describes one of his final meetings with his by-then-seriously-ill partner, Dr Steptoe. He distinctly recalls the thrill of relaying the news that 1,000 babies had been born at their clinic since their first successful ‘baby’. ‘I’ll never forget the look of joy in his eyes. Steptoe and I were deeply affected by the desperation felt by couples who so wanted to have children. The most important thing in life is having a child,’ he said, ‘Nothing is more special than a child.’

Charismatic and inspiring are words that most of his friends, colleagues and students commonly use while describing Professor Edwards. “He is charismatic, strong-willed and tenacious,” says Dr Al Yuzpe, a renowned Vancouver-based IVF specialist who has known him for over four decades, “He says what he thinks. For example, I heard him chastise the American IVF medical community for allowing the multiple pregnancy rate to soar to astronomical levels by replacing multiple embryos in order to achieve high pregnancy rates. He said, ‘You are behaving like cowboys.’ As a result, there is now a great move to replace fewer embryos in an attempt to reduce the risk of multiple pregnancies.”

The reaction of his family to the news of his award has been rather muted, with their refusing to go public with their private celebration of a recognition that many feel has been ‘a long time coming’. His wife Ruth released a statement shortly after the announcement, expressing their delight in the prestigious award. Dr Macnamee fills me in on the little celebration that the family had when they visited Professor Edwards on the day of the citation. “I was told he was delighted,” he says, “After all, it is a singular honour which is received by very few people. However, Bob had received a slightly lesser honour two years ago when he had a UK postage stamp released of him—that is a very rare thing to have. This is the final recognition. It is long overdue.”

“As a person he always found time to talk to patients about what was happening in the laboratory, and rejoiced when each IVF baby was born. He took great personal pleasure in the news of each birth,” says Dr Thomas Mathews, Bourn Hall Clinic’s medical director. Perhaps that’s why his staff and colleagues fondly remember the special celebration they had organised two years ago, when Bourn Hall recorded the birth of the 10,000th baby at their clinic.

“We invited a baby from every year of Bourn Hall back to the clinic. So we had 30 different age children, starting with Louise Brown to the latest child. Bob was visibly overjoyed to plant a tree to commemorate the event, 30 years after setting up the IVF clinic,” adds Dr Macnamee. Trees hold a special place in Professor Edwards’ heart, and his green fingers are legendary too. “We had been working together for a very long time when he once took me to his house. He backed his car into his field and then revealed that he had planted some 5,000 trees, by himself, in the five acres of fields that he had. That was truly remarkable. He knew every single root and branch, every single part of that small forest he’d planted. He knew when he planted them, how big they would grow, and also how they will look in 20 years—-that, to me, summed up his vision.”

Professor Martin Johnson, who teaches at Cambridge and was one of Professor Edwards’ first research students, concurs with Dr Macnamee’s assessment. “He was a man much ahead of his time in IVF. His publications and lectures on ethics in science and the role of regulation also placed him way ahead of others. His achievements are not just over four million babies worldwide born through assisted reproductive technology, but also the way that he transformed the whole approach to research and care in reproductive medicine and gynaecology. It is very sad that his colleagues Patrick Steptoe and Jean Purdy aren’t alive to share this prize with him.”

For Professor Edwards, the Nobel recognition might be one that arrived a decade too late. But he remains popular among his friends for his humility, which they say comes from the confidence of great intellect. So, in any situation, he could find something that made him smile. His rather sharp sense of humour won him many fans as well.

“I once asked him what he thought of human cloning. His reply was, ‘Al, I’ve never met anyone worth cloning,’” reminisces Dr Al Yuzpe. It was perhaps this trademark humour and the belief in his work that kept Professor Edwards going despite fierce criticism and opposition from many quarters, including the Vatican. Today, honoured so highly late in life, Professor Edwards must surely savour his vindication.