Have you noticed how newspapers are always just around. Like fixtures in a house, they are subtle, no one knows how they got there. You can identify a person's political views, how they think, if they are neat, tidy, organized or just a complete mess, from the innocent paper on the table.
I think it was 1990 when I first picked up the newspaper. I confess, I picked it up not to learn about what was happening around the world but because I was forced to. My parents insisted on widening my horizons, so they made it mandatory for me to sit with it for at least a half hour. I bear many scars from my childhood. Back then, we got the Arab News. It had a green tint, very slim and the less said about the newsprint (or the quality of journalism) the better. But Arab News, was the largest, circulating English daily and it had the customary few pages dedicated to local news, two pages to international and the last four to sports. In between were the funnies. And that was exactly what I read.
When we moved to India, our newspaper of choice was Times of India (I was too young to protest). By then my Tiger parents insisted I read not just the funnies, but the first few pages. To check if I had, they would ask me when our area was scheduled to have a power outage. Yes, we lived in progressive times and Bangalore had a daily schedule for this. Not that they ever stuck to it though.
Somewhere in between all of this, I learned how to fold the newspaper, with the front page facing up, when I was done with it. To this day, I detest people who leave the paper, folded to the page they were reading, in the hope that they would get back to it. Yes, I can get that way, sometimes.
A few years later, my mother started getting the Kannada newspaper. Out of 12 pages, it had 11 dedicated to local news. It was great, if you wanted to know just what was happening in your city. The world be damned!
In Journalism school, we had to read three newspapers, or atleast that was what was expected of us. Journalists were revered, put on a pedestal, till we started working with them and images came crashing down, till they were people, doing a job like everyone else.
We have subscribed and un-subscribed to countless newspapers, but my father will, even today, read the newspaper while he has his morning coffee and only then will his day begin.
When I moved to Germany, we did not get a newspaper. Chuckles and I read all our news online. Just the way, half the world did, I was told. I missed the tactile feel, the rustle of fresh newspaper and the stain of newsprint from holding one page for too long, but I got used to it.
Earlier this year, I gave Chuckles a subscription to the New York Times as a birthday gift. Last Sunday, for the first time in two years, we ate our breakfast in silence, each reading different sections of the newspaper. I have no idea whether he likes his gift or not, but I have enjoyed sitting with the Weekend Edition for the next seven days, reading the articles, holding the newspaper and in general just placing it on my coffee table, a joy that cannot be measured.
I will miss it when they all die.
I think it was 1990 when I first picked up the newspaper. I confess, I picked it up not to learn about what was happening around the world but because I was forced to. My parents insisted on widening my horizons, so they made it mandatory for me to sit with it for at least a half hour. I bear many scars from my childhood. Back then, we got the Arab News. It had a green tint, very slim and the less said about the newsprint (or the quality of journalism) the better. But Arab News, was the largest, circulating English daily and it had the customary few pages dedicated to local news, two pages to international and the last four to sports. In between were the funnies. And that was exactly what I read.
When we moved to India, our newspaper of choice was Times of India (I was too young to protest). By then my Tiger parents insisted I read not just the funnies, but the first few pages. To check if I had, they would ask me when our area was scheduled to have a power outage. Yes, we lived in progressive times and Bangalore had a daily schedule for this. Not that they ever stuck to it though.
Somewhere in between all of this, I learned how to fold the newspaper, with the front page facing up, when I was done with it. To this day, I detest people who leave the paper, folded to the page they were reading, in the hope that they would get back to it. Yes, I can get that way, sometimes.
A few years later, my mother started getting the Kannada newspaper. Out of 12 pages, it had 11 dedicated to local news. It was great, if you wanted to know just what was happening in your city. The world be damned!
In Journalism school, we had to read three newspapers, or atleast that was what was expected of us. Journalists were revered, put on a pedestal, till we started working with them and images came crashing down, till they were people, doing a job like everyone else.
We have subscribed and un-subscribed to countless newspapers, but my father will, even today, read the newspaper while he has his morning coffee and only then will his day begin.
When I moved to Germany, we did not get a newspaper. Chuckles and I read all our news online. Just the way, half the world did, I was told. I missed the tactile feel, the rustle of fresh newspaper and the stain of newsprint from holding one page for too long, but I got used to it.
Earlier this year, I gave Chuckles a subscription to the New York Times as a birthday gift. Last Sunday, for the first time in two years, we ate our breakfast in silence, each reading different sections of the newspaper. I have no idea whether he likes his gift or not, but I have enjoyed sitting with the Weekend Edition for the next seven days, reading the articles, holding the newspaper and in general just placing it on my coffee table, a joy that cannot be measured.
I will miss it when they all die.
7 comments:
very well written i have to say ... but i dont think newspapers will die ever. the joy of reading the morning newspaper can never be replicated by the online version i think ...
Thanks Aloka!
I hope they don't die out, but one can only hope!
@ Pandu: They will soon in america, i think, can't pay ten dollar for
one copy of the newspaper yaar ... People like rati will be writing an
obituary which will go online :)
@Rati: Kyaa likhtee hai yaar .... uff kaatil hai teri writing :) a
zillion times better than my rapidex english, no pandu?
@Anant: Aww thanks...go on! Also, thanks for the free publicity on Facebook.
@Alok: In India, people still pick up a newspaper for the news, it is almost like a habit. Here I notice, people buying the local newspaper only on Sundays, probably for the coupons!
I loved the Arab News and its green tint!! I loved the Saudi Gazette & the Fun times too(remember Arnobi the rabbit?) Can't imagine my life minus a newspaper!
Oh my god! Arnobi and Fun Times! Of course I do! Man, I remember waiting to go pick up Fun times and I even hoarded it till we moved. That was a sad day.
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