Behind the News: Voices from Goa's Press

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Grown since

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 3: West Coast Times : A dream ruined

Valmiki Faleiro

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A rival to Hobson's choice NT

The last comment may be off the mark. As I later learnt from Papa himself, the project was conceived from a broader vision. Throughout the Konkan, from Ratnagiri district in Maharashtra to South Canara (now Dakshin Kannada) districts in Karnataka, no English-language daily was available before noon or afternoon those days. While the Mumbai dak editions of Times of India (ToI) and Indian Express (IE) did the honours in coastal Maharashtra, it was Bangalore's Deccan Herald in coastal Karnataka. Goa's NT, which took only a couple of hours less to reach Margao, could not be expected to travel beyond its borders on mass circulation basis – till WCT arrived, NT was in fact believed to have pegged its circulation (to avoid re-classification to a higher bracket, which implied higher minimum wages to staff and workers!)

It was Papa's dream to fill this void of a morning English-language daily for the entire Konkan, from Goa. Hence the West Coast in the newspaper's name. Competition to NT was only incidental. (I am not aware of any family feuds among Goa's mining magnates at the time and shall stand corrected if there was any such raison d' etat. If there really were any differences between the two families, they would be buried some years later: under blessings of the Partagal Swamiji, Papa's grand-daughter, Pallavi, was given in marriage to the Dempo headman, Vasantrao's son, Srinivas – current Chairman of the Dempo group.)

The infrastructure put into place to realize Papa's dream matched. A modern civil construction, meticulously designed, was put up at Davorlim, just beyond Margao's municipal boundary. Editorial, advertising and printing departments were housed under one roof for optimum synch. All sections of the newspaper's production process, from subbing to typesetting, from proof reading to optical processing, from plate-making to the final printing, were so located as to achieve maximum production speed. Attention was paid even to minor details, like sending galley proofs to the news desk in a jiffy. Such were the conveniences that the edition could go to bed by a leisurely 4.30am (the print run took barely half an hour.) Communication lines were made as reliable as possible, given frequent power interruptions. Both PTI and UNI ticker services were subscribed to (though only the PTI had a carrier station in Margao to cope with breakdowns.) A full-fledged bureau was set up in Panjim, connected to the editorial offices in Davorlim by teleprinter link.

The printing technology employed was said to be the best available in India – except in typesetting, where for some unknown reason, Lino machines were used instead of computers (maybe the value of lead scrap, in place of katchra bromides that computers generated those days, had something to do with it!) No more block-making for photographs and illustrations; these were optically processed directly to printing plates. A modern web offset printing machine was brought in (together with a Delhi-based Haryanvi operator who soon acquired fondness for palm feni from nearby Jose's bar and other unprintables from across the Rawanfond railway tracks!). The machine churned out, if I remember right, 50,000 copies/hour. Even the camera purchased for the Staff Photographer was a top-of-the-line German Leica, complete with an array of lenses and filters, worth a lakh of rupees of 1978. Krishna Kurwar managed the plant, under the GM-cum-Publisher, Madkaikar. The result was a refreshing, never-before-seen product on the landscape of Goa's print media.

To match, a high-profile editorial team was put together under the stewardship of Konkani-speaking M.G. Bailur and his Associate, Tulu-speaking Y.M. Hegde, both originally from South Canara. The backbone of the newspages, the News Editor, was P.R. Menon, the old and revered FPJ warhorse. The complement of three Chief Subs and about a dozen Subs was picked from various national dailies – Goa could come up with only two pairs of hands on the news desk. Being unfamiliar with local affairs, this cast added onus on Kaka Singbal and me to mark the priority of our dispatches in the initial days!

The news-gathering team headed by Kaka (assisted by Dharmanand Kamat in Panjim and Karamchand Furtado on the TP link) was, of course, entirely home-bred. I rushed college-mate Leslie St. Anne thro' a crash course in typing to join me in Margao. In South Goa, we had Radharao Gracias and Joey Rodrigues (both law students then), Felicio Esteves (who went on to become a Ministerial P.A. and co-author of the infamous Marks Scandal subsequently scooped by me for the FPJ), John Carlos Aguiar in Ponda, Vallabh Dessai in Quepem, Minguel Mascarenhas in Sanguem, Kelly Furtado in Vasco, and half a dozen stringers across South Goa. Manikrao (brother of the award-winning ToI photographer, Prabhakar M. Shirodkar) was our lensman, assisted by Lloyd Coutinho in Margao and Lui Godinho in Vasco, excellent photographers all, who provided the memorable photo inputs that shot the WCT to instant fame.

WCT hit the newsstands in early-July 1978. We raced. In Margao, I concentrated on at least one off-beat, human-interest, interview-based or photo-story per day, carried usually boxed or in anchor position. Aware of our printing process strengths, I never lost an opportunity to get Manik shoot a good pic, including one that had to be clicked from a bubbling canoe in choppy waters off a rocky beach in Betul, South Goa. [This one was of a rotting human male corpse – sprawling, shocking and white on the dark rocks – which the cops had neglected to recover despite the local Sarpanch's days-long complaints. P.R. Menon splashed the pic in the lead-story position. I had to take Papa's reprimand the following morning – it seems the Lt. Governor was taken so aback picking the morning's WCT that his P.A. personally called Papa to complain about bad taste. But I still considered the two-and-half Rupees paid to the canoe man for the ride a fine expense!]

Consciously, though, we shunned sensationalizing and Kaka firmly shot the idea of carrying the day's matka figures. We refrained from gimmicks like carrying dummy advertisements, especially in the Classified columns, barometer to a newspaper's popularity.

Instead, we went for innovative editorial content. [Including, at my instance, a SundayMag column on Sleight of Hand by the Salcete magician, Marco. When Marco didn't show up for a couple of weeks, leading to howls from eager readers of his column, Y.M. Hegde was so furious that I had to fill in with a piece on how Marco had performed the Vanishing Trick and restore YM's trademark smile!]

To further notch up circulation, I almost coerced Madkaikar into breaking the back of monopoly newspaper distributors in South Goa – by selling retail bundles to any willing vendor on an initial sell-or-return basis.

Results were evident. By month 6, we sold around 4,500 copies in and around Margao alone, compared to less than half that number by NT. Circulation problems, however, persisted in North Goa, including delayed deliveries to news stalls in the northern talukas. But then, we had just two vehicles to cover the entire territory. ("Penny wise, Pound foolish," P.R. Menon forever rued, he never carried much of an impression about the managerial abilities of Goan mineowners – all his life, after all, Menon had worked in a establishment owned by the Karnanis, Marwaris to the core!) Even then, overall, WCT's print order would be just about 2,000 copies short of the NT. And at the rate we were going, the gap would fast be closed and surpassed?

My heroes, of course, were Shivram Borkar and Babal Borkar, ace drivers who by day ferried the shift editorial staff to and from quarters in Margao to office in Davorlim . By night, the duo snoozed whatever time available, on heaps of 'raddi' in the press. And zipped their way with newspaper bundles to either end of Goa before the crack of dawn – in terribly overloaded, ramshackle, dieselized Ambassador cars that should have been a delight to Mario Miranda and Alexyz (we used a syndicated pocket cartoon, incidentally, since Mario was with the ToI group in Mumbai and Alexyz hadn't yet surfaced as a cartoonist.) Babal and Shivram, true heroes who virtually were at call, round the clock, round the year. [They of course made out-of-pocket money, ferrying passengers on the return. When this reached Papa's ears, he tailed one of the drivers one fine morning. When the unsuspecting fellow stopped to take in passengers, Papa is reported to have pulled alongside and advised the driver, "Bhara, bhara, taxi ti!" The man was often magnanimous. The driver did not lose his job.]

By the first year of publication, despite impressive circulation figures, there were no signs of advertising revenue picking up to reach the financial break-even point. To the sheer dismay of our well-knit editorial team, there were also no signs of implementation of the pan-Konkan Plan. The management, instead, began fighting shy to inject fresh investment in the enterprise. Corners started getting cut. Virgin plates came to used only for jacket pages, inside pages were processed on recycled plates. Papa's dream began to show signs of fatigue?

By the third month into the second year of publication, amid this uncertain scenario, arrived Nicholas ("Nicky") Rebello, a lino-typesetter and leader of the NT worker's union. I will not hedge a bet if Nicky was 'inspired' by his employers, but having been in touch with him much after his retirement from NT at his home in Betim, I can vouchsafe Nicky didn't travel to Davorlim by any 'political' inspiration. My best guess is that some restive workers of the WCT press, aware of wages being paid at NT, must have approached and invited Nicky to Davorlim. The workers of WCT press got unionized and Nicky soon served a Charter of Demands. The management stood its ground, often unreasonably in the opinion of the editorial team – which of course had no locus standi in the imbroglio. As the strike showed signs of protraction, P.R. Menon, known for leftist leanings from his fiery days at the FPJ, tried to intervene with the management. To no avail.

(P.R. Menon was forever of the conviction that managerial skills of Goan mine-owners were limited to blasting, transportation and shipping – and after the importer's cheque arrived, to distributing the proceeds to those who had blasted, transported and shipped. And, of course, to profits!) Papa, strangely, sometimes used queer management methods. There was this Chief Accountant, hired for the PTI group, on a then princely salary of Rs.4,000 a month. To get a feedback on the Chief Accountant, Papa assigned a peon drawing no more than Rs.250 a month. After office hours, the peon would report to Papa on the activities of the C.A. from which, inferences on the Chief Accountant were drawn!

But a man of immense experience and intuition he was. From the streets of native Assolna in Salcete, where as a child he hawked textiles, a wooden yard measure slung across his shoulder and a coolie with a headload of wares in tow, Papa must have surely post-graduated from the University of Experience. On occasions when I was seated in his chamber, his P.A., Sambari would buzz to announce a visitor. In a flash Papa knew why the man had come, what he would say, and had the replies even before the visitor entered! I personally saw flaming creditors leave his chamber smiling, even though not a paisa had yielded! He had that rare ability to disarm even the most irate visitor. But when it came to the WCT strike, I have always held the belief that a man of such calibre who could have easily placated the agitated workers and even broken their Union, was somehow carried away with the opinion of one trusted man, who was obviously misleading him – and since I've named names, I will exclude Madkaikar and Kurwar.]

With no end to the strike in sight, Bailur, Hegde, Kaka and me next met and virtually pleaded with Papa to concede some sops to the striking workmen and get the publication going. I think the establishment (may not have been Papa) thereafter regarded as being pro-Union!

The editorial team, bulk of which was from outstation, met frequently during those bekaar days and finally, the painful decision emerged that we tell the management to either settle the dispute with the Union or we quit en masse. The management was unmoved. We quit, but Papa's dispenser of bad advice insisted on serving 'dismissal' letters!

And thus a lofty dream to publish from Goa, the land of Banna Halli, an English daily serving the entire of Lord Parashuram's Konkan on the West Coast of India, went phut. A modern press and process, an excellent editorial team – path-breaking infrastructure in Goa's history of newspaper production – lay in waste.

The venerable Bailur returned to retirement, as did P.R. Menon. Y.M. Hegde joined Mumbai's Shipping Times as Editor. The Chief Subs and Subs returned to their original publications or to new jobs. A Goan Sub, Vincent Rangel, from Tivim-Bardez, went into business, as the Mumbai-end partner of Manvin Couriers. I joined the FPJ Group (Free Press Journal, its tabloid-eveninger Bulletin and fortnightly, Onlooker) as Goa Correspondent; moved in like capacity to IE when FPJ's Chief Editor, S. Krishnamurty joined IE's Mumbai edition as Resident Editor; played a role in J.D. Fernandes' decision to start an English avatar of the near defunct Portuguese O Heraldo (including the hiring of its first editor) – and almost joined, but didn't quite – as that newspaper's Chief Reporter, for reasons that Rajan Narayan should know. And finally got into business. Without regrets.