The Invisible Editor, My Foot!

Call me a sentimental fool. It has been a month. Chowk as you see it today was uploaded on November 10.

I would love to say that everything went like a dream. It did not. For one, I had been lured with this delectable offer, “You can use my table, there is green grass outside the window and Korean women walking…it is very quiet here.” Lies.

Most of the time the blinds were drawn and, when they were not, I had to strain my neck to see the green grass. Korean women do not excite me, but I did not see a single one. As for quiet, there was a huge TV screen with Disney characters squeaking. The prized table had…okay, let’s not get into that…

That day we started early. Some polishing had to be done. I began typing in a frenzy. (Overheard something like this: “She even bangs that delicate laptop.”)

Columns, section articles, In Site pieces were all in place. The idea was to shut down the server for half an hour and then return with this new look.

While the backstage preps were taking place, we realised that some things had to be fine-tuned. I found that while I could say, “I want this in this way”, there were several technical hurdles to be crossed. The server mutely bore the brunt of our mood swings. The 30 minutes stretched. There was a call demanding, “Why is the server down for so long? What is happening?”

“Can’t you understand, we are working…we are not just sitting around.” Thuk.

After two hours, we were ready to go. In a few seconds, I would have to keep clicking in a certain order. Cool, I thought, as I went publish-publish-publish. I then refreshed the page. Language went for a toss as I blurted out. “Gill is under Shandana…” and then, “Gosh, Shandana is coming again…”

Technical wizardry did the rescue job within seconds.

I watched the screen as the teal-colour made the announcement that would ‘toast’ me (life and words are a double-edged sword).

* * *
We went to ‘Chaat Cafe’ for a quick and quiet celebration. As we were walking out, a little girl picked up a leaf from the ground and gave it to me.

“Is this a gift?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said.

It was as large as a fan and had thick veins running though it. And dry though it was, it smelled like fresh moss. I did not miss the green grass anymore.

On the drive to my temporary abode, I confessed to a strange fright: “I am afraid because I am not feeling nervous.”

I am an edge-of-the-seat, whimsical person (and the Chowk hub has seen me at my worst), so this tranquillity was unnerving me.

Analysing the reason I found that we were prepared for the reactions. Those who had been sent emails gave us a glimpse into that. 99 per cent were supportive and this is not a feel-good exaggeration, for it would not affect us either way. Even if we extended the one per cent to five for online interactors, we have to tell you that the responses were so in sync with what we expected. I guess knowing the pulse of the Chowkies so well is the first major hurdle crossed.

Sitting barely four feet away we were furiously sending updates to each other. I would like to state here that there is an unspoken understanding that any communication that has to do with Chowk content/policy, even if it is addressed to one of us personally, is conveyed to the others. Dreams of different power centres are just dreams, okay?

* * *
The next week feed (incidentally, columns and sections are now uploaded every Wednesday while new InSite pieces are put up almost everyday) was a straight six-hour stretch with a 15-minute lunch break. The tense moment was with Saima’s column name. I think I blurted out, “It’s a square world” which was close to what she had written, but not quite. This was to be a permanent link; we could not take liberties. A quick call; she said she had in fact wanted what we did (that psychic bone in the body is such a help). Ginni was relieved, because the logo was designed by her. After all those, “You know I will stretch this…” we had a nice square rectangle!

The same with Jawahara’s column logo. This time it had to be co-ordinated long-distance. “Any ideas?” I was asked.

“Oh ya…I want a figure and a shadow and that shadow should look scattered…”

This time an old Chowk hand, Ashwin Pinto, worked on it with his interpretation. How wonderful it is to see people extend the boundaries of one’s own imagination…that travelled from me to G to him…each adding something along the way.

So, how was the Chowk blueprint? No art director, no whiz kids. I had a blank sheet of paper on which I drew the page layout. There was no scale, so ‘andaaze se’ I made the lines. This was late at night. Next day, we worked with it, tweaked some (and that continues). The week after another sheet of paper, this time I used the writing pad edge to draw straight lines.

You might wonder: Hah, does this even sound professional?

I ask you: What is professional? That you wear formal clothes, sit in a swivel chair, look important, and throw around management jargon?

Every single day is a management marvel. If there are new ways of making the site user-friendly and working over the minutiae in California, in Mumbai it means going through a backlog of almost 400 articles. I am not ready to give up the ghosts for in them I may see the flicker of some resurrected life. I have to email reminders about deadlines (ah, yeh tau kabhi nahin hota tha). I have to woo, for I believe that some people are worth it. I have not given up on that one big writer, I have not given up on that cricket article, or that stuff on Bollywood. For I know that this may not make Chowk leap into some big league, but I love the pitter-patter of tiny steps as they leave their mark merely with their sound.

It takes a formation of clouds to bring about rain.

* * *
In the first week itself we found an amazing dam burst. I can only say, thank you. Thank you for spending time on messenger making me into a discussion topic; for the petitions, for the ratings, for blogs (some spreading the most vicious lies even as they sent us congratulatory emails!), for sending in pieces despite questioning my presence here.

Those on Unplugged who were given complete freedom to do what they wanted suddenly felt at sea. Without intervention (and attention) they had lost quite a bit of leverage. I was blamed for making the place lewd. This from people who have been calling each other the worst possible names for the past few years. In fact, someone commented that an article on sex would not have been published a month ago. Never mind that as a writer I have written enough about sex on these pages, it is still touching that people remember dates that are personal landmarks only for me and the publishers.

For general information, none of the posts critical of me were removed from UP. I use the same standards for myself. However, front page interactions are being closely monitored; the old Chowk guidelines remain.

It is only when there seemed to be a semblance of order that I approached M. V. Kamath. It takes a nobody to get a somebody, indeed. Those who are bending over backwards to appear like his loyal soldiers should just go and ask him what he thinks about me. They will be pleasantly surprised.

This is being unbiased. You think I could not have got Osama bin Laden as our first Chowk Guest? Or some Mullah? Or a Commie? I want to reassure some people here that whatever be my personal beliefs and political views, all kinds of voices will be heard. But, there will be a few others dos and don’ts in the ‘Submit’ form soon. I do not want to get reply notes from writers telling me, “Isn’t it the job of the editor to run spell check”. I was disappointed at the cocky note for I saw tremendous potential for discussion in that article.

This editor has of late been errand ‘girl’, transcriber, typist…she has been cleaning up copy that includes making “&” into “and”. I am told I should just ask those writers to rewrite, but a little effort goes a long way. When you see a glimmer, don’t give up on it.

* * *
While we have ‘authorities’ on journalism sprouting out of the woodwork, I might like to add that you need to update your knowledge. And stop looking through pigeon holes.

- Editors should be invisible, they should not write edits with their bylines, they said. Sure. This edit has been written by Helen of Troy…and a thousand ships were launched. So there!

- Chowk is not a news site, so don’t even try, they said. There was a time when if Chowk did not write on a current event, there were cries of being lax. We are not trying to be anything we are not, for we know what we are. That news item on the Karachi blasts was put up by me. It was not meant to be the best little report. It was merely to open a forum for Chowkies to have their say. I added that we would give you a follow-up soon.

We did. I wrote to Nadeem Paracha midnight in California not knowing when I’d hear from him next. I had not corresponded with him before, except for the routine columnist note. Within five minutes he responded that he was going out to take a look and would send the piece within two hours. He did.

It does not matter that a person imbues what s/he writes with their opinion; it is that we strive to bring our worlds closer in however small a manner.

- That Sheema article was not a proper story, they said. True. You could see it the minute you clicked on the link. There were things in italics, in bold, everything was clearly pronounced, with a footnote added. For Chowk, this is important. Events that add to our understanding of each other need to be clarified; rejoinders are welcome, too.

- ‘Humidor’ is oh-so-pretentious, they said. They are interacting there!

- “Huh? Women’s Room?” they said. Yeah. I love the way my Wuss-coloured MAC lipstick shines as I read Joan Didion’s lips.

- We are leaving, they said. Some return to say they have left…others take a respite…still others state, “Frankly, I don’t give a fig about chowk.com.” 11 days later they are still here.

- No one has questioned our inclusion of Chowk Guest, but I would like to clarify here that the famous will be just that -- “Chowk guests’. It is our writers here from the community that will always be a part of us.

We are constantly looking for new work even as we wish to give the old ones the respect they deserve.

Instead of cribbing, contribute.

And a request. Do not try and spread rumours about who is who. We have a better handle on this, don’t you think?

Chowk has been used to promote agendas, websites, people from newspapers put up their editorials here…and we do not need a matrimonial column because people get married after meeting here, anyway! We give you a long rope; whether you hang yourself with it, climb rocky mountains or skip with it or see a snake slithering, it is entirely your call.

* * *
I learned an important lesson. There were these few paragraphs submitted on ‘Unflinching Idealism’. I was dead against the idea of carrying it. Although this was a new person (in fact, mainly because it was a new person), I thought it would seem too self-congratulatory and asked the writer to give ‘other examples’. He sent them across, and he was perhaps confused. I was still not convinced.

I did edit it a wee bit. It wasn’t “landscaping”, but my reasoning was: “A tree cannot stand alone, and not if it has a neon light blinking on it.”

It was Safwan who reacted. “Let people say that Chowk rocks in bad English and good English and no English. We don’t edit when they say Chowk stinks.”

I have to admit here that I was wrong. The Chowk community reacted the way they would to poetry – few interacts, but sweet ones! It is this same community that notices the undercurrents and hauls people up for it, cutting through the swathe of their pretence. The Chowkies understand people’s motivations/anger/love towards some of us better than we do.

Yet, I prefer to think that those moments of derision were merely due to the feeling of unsettlement. Not everyone can take new things well. Especially if that breath of fresh air happens to be a typhoon…

‘A Voice’ will be updated when I feel I have something important to say or to keep you in the loop.

Why disclose these things to you? Because I want you to know we are human, so don’t waste your time looking for feet of clay!

* * *
One late evening as we were sitting and trying to work, I was extremely antsy. I had not written for a couple of days. I picked up the pen and decided to write something, anything…a po’m? Give me a word or phrase, I said.

The Ps came up with this, “Ullu ka patha”.

Fine. Challenge, eh? I wrote:

Ullu ka patha keh diya usne
Woh lafz aise nikley mooh se
Jaise jazbatoun ki leher uth gayee
Ullu ke pathey ko raah mil gayee
Dhuein ko aag mil gayee.

If you feel we are influencing you, think again. You are influencing us as much as we are trying to. This is osmosis in action.

Chowk’s birth remains August 14. This other date is just a day for goose bumps. As I learned from a young friend, life is about saying “Hi” and then “Hi, again”.

ChowKuote
“Since, Farzana Versey has joined the office, this chowk web site has become fish market….used to enjoy chowk when it was just benign site with some standards, now, this web site is nothing more than a gutter....................I mean it. This gutter stinks.”
(November 17, 2005)

Same person: “Farzana Versey …My heart and mind were starving to see such a sensitive heart with soul. Keep up the good work. We are with you. Thanks for the beautiful editorial.” (December 2, 2005)

And you still want to know why I call Chowk dynamic? Why I continue to hope? Why I have still not lost that feeling that you do not need to be diplomatic, as was suggested? You just need to know your job, understand people, and accept your own fallibility.

If I fall flat on my face, I get a closer look at the ground.