nny morning, as I was about to
cross from the Panjim Municipal Garden pavement to the
Herald office across the street, Raul emerged from the
stationery shop, as if casually, and waved me to hold
back. He crossed the street and invited me for a cup of
tea at a nearby cafe at Jesuit House, Jasmal or Jesema.
Once seated, Raul developed an unusual countenance and
began vaguely referring to the salary that had been
offered to me (Rs.4,000 per mensem.) I imagined there
must have been a family council the previous night. I
reminded him that I had not asked the figure, that I
had merely accepted what was offered -- and that I was
with them in this not for the money, but for a dream to
break a monopoly. I suggested the figure could be revised.
That's when the bombshell broke. "It's not about the
amount of salary," Raul stated, "it's..."
"You mean I'm not wanted here anymore?" I butted in, in
disbelief. "You can take it as something like that,"
Raul said. I was too shocked to even ask why. Having
known Rajan fairly well by now, I instinctively felt
his hand in this. Didn't even feel like meeting the
others at the office or the Patrao at the shop
downstairs. Over the previous several months, I had
worked to virtually midwife the Herald and however much
I may have been, I did not wish to upset the scene when
the baby's umbilical cord was about to go.
I just took the next bus home.
And on that very unpleasant note ended my brief
association with a newspaper that over the last 20
years, tottered, steadied and thrived -- even if in
large measure on the guile and brilliance of one crafty
man, Rajan Narayan.
Without doubt, the oHeraldo marked a new chapter in
English-language journalism in Goa. A lot of latent
young talent found expression. Investigative journalism
got its fair image. Above all, the average Goan reader
now had a choice, and the inherent benefits of
competition. Happily for Goa, the combination at the
right time of the Proprietors and of Rajan Narayan and
some excellent members in the editorial team, clicked.
Despite shoestring budgets and lack of official
advertising patronage in the initial years, the
newspaper survived, cracked a monopoly in a vital area,
and will now shortly enter its 21st year of publication.
I lived and worked in Goa (for myself, of course!)
during these 20 years and saw the manner in which this
one man notched circulation and endeared himself to the
average English-language n
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