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WE, THE MEDIA...

We are the bricks of a huge wall popularly known as MEDIA, a descendent of something called PRESS (We still use this identity also, even though we differ in many cases)...we both are the self proclaimed guardians of the human societies.

So, we claim some privileges (we express through the stickers saying PRESS/MEDIA in the front of our vehicles) that the most of the societies formally deny (and accept non-formally).

We keep the right to be anywhere and everywhere and ask questions about the rightness of anything and everything under the Sun (in fact we are the dreaded ones in many cases).

While PRESS do something called "publication of news reports", what we the MEDIA do is "break news"...we say so as ours is a faster medium...we cover (or expose!) incidents as and when they occur...

While PRESS derive its strength from the pen, BYTES and VISUALS are elements of the fire power of the we the MEDIA have.

BYTES (=8 bits? Come on, do not go that far) these are actually the statements (from Horses mouth) of the persons involved with the event in one way or the other. And VISUALS are what ever we record through our mighty cameras. Our motto is "Seeing and hearing is believing"

The more slang, abusive, accusing the BYTES are, the more violent the visuals are the more explosive our coverage is. We can break the news more forcefully.

So before recording the BYTES we try to inspire the subject to be more "newsy" through lubricating questions. So, if some how you are one of those injured in some accident (may God prove me wrong), you should fail your heart when point my mike and camera at you and ask "Now after loosing your legs, how you are feeling?"

You should have the understanding of the fact that we are the ones who disseminate truth, give voice to the voiceless. We have to gather courage and expertise to record and show the incidents in its raw form. So there are the chances that what one dying in an accident or a riot sees for the last time are MEDIA men fighting among each other to record the last, heart touching moments of his life. Armed forces and the militants are not the only one's who have the right to spare their lives in a gun battle or a fight. We from the MEDIA too enjoy running with live cameras in fierce gun battles.

All these do not mean that "Breaking News" is the only thing we do. We have to and we often do something called " Making and than Breaking". After fixing a potential target (must be with two parties A and B, say).

We approach B and say A said bla bla bla about you. Angered and fumed B yells at A (on records). Then only in fact we approach A and repeat what B said and record "reaction". We combine the two, according to the sequence that is suitable to us. The next step as usual is "Breaking of the news we have made". We call this POLITICAL REPORTING. If we are the only channel to do that, then it's we claim something to be EXCLUSIVE.

The more EXCLUSIVE news we cover, the more viewers and commercials we attract. So at times you will find same news running EXCLUSIVE on different channels...ask how it is possible? You should not have difficulty in accepting that camera angles are exclusive for each channel...

After "we the MEDIA" expose each and every thread of an event by repeating it hundreds of time in a day, the PRESS brings them in the front page HEADLINES (only on the next morning)...

But you should not find it awkward when you find us, from the MEDIA, sitting with a news paper at hand next morning and trying to find out "what actually happened yesterday"...it's a symbiotic relation, you will not understand if you are not from the PRESS and MEDIA.

Viva la PRESS, viva la MEDIA...

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Rays of hope...

These days,
I can hear my heart saying
its time
you confront your life,
its time
you nourish dreams
fill some colours
to the grey grey world
And I followed it, added a colour, a crimson colour full of life. I can feel the spaces inside my heart getting filled with sight and smell of rose and sounds of echoing laughter. I can feel it growing fonder, quieter, warmer then ever. I am struggling for words to paint my heart. There are thousands of them.As it usually happens, in these moments I find it difficult to choose the best of them...all of them dearer, all of them nearer...I am sitting quite till they grow strong enough to break the barricade erected long time back. I am waiting for the day they unfold their wings again, to touch the vast blueness above.
These days, I can hear my heart saying the day is not far...

Thousands of miles away, yet...

I do not remember what it was that made me realise, 'I am moving too fast'. I pulled in the breaks to a jerking halt.

I looked back to check how far I have travelled...the meter says I did travel a lot. But how can I still see the 'square one' clearly with my naked eyes? And where's the trace of 'me' that I am looking for? Why can't I see even the vague impression when I look forward? Was my journey like a wind mill? ' Running fast, but travel no far'?

It was some twenty years back. Just like many others, I asked the simple three word question ' Who am I?...Finding no one around to answer, I started my journey on foot. A search, for an identity...

And now when I glance back, sitting still on the corner of the tranqil lake, I can recollect answers to many questions that I have gathered during the journey so far...I know what I am, I know what I can do, I know what I can't...I know what I have gathered, what I had gathered and lost while run…

On the way back...

"A good traveler has no fixed plans, and is not intent on arriving.”
Lao Tzu



Don’t know whether we were good travelers, but seemed to be a little bit of it. We left home with the idea of exploring the enchanting land of Palampur, without knowing what plans the almighty had for us. While negotiating with the Taxi operators in the Pathankot railway station, we ended up charting out a plan to first visit places in McLoad Ganj and Dharamshala (the land of Buddhist monks) and explore the vast green lands of Palampur on the way back. Though we maintained this travel plan till the end, the tit bits were changed many times in between with many omissions and additions. And at the end of the journey, when we were back to square one, there was consensus amongst us, it was a journey well made.

“I see my path, but I don't know where it leads. Not knowing where I'm going is what inspires me to travel it.” Rosalia de Castro




Travelling on the misty roads to Mcload Ganj, I realized the sayi…