JOURNALISM AND ME



It was 11th of March (my birthday), 1952, when a heretic named Ernesto Guavera was treading the contours of the Atacama desert in a quest to explore different faces of humanity. It was 23rd of March, 1931, when Bhagat Singh, aged 23 then (I am an year older to him at this juncture), embraced the gallows for the sake of a vision, an independent India.
On being rendered jobless after toiling for 4 years for an engineering degree, I was blessed with some leisure to introspect my aspirations from life. The sagacity of the aforementioned visionaries, and many more, had inculcated in me a sense of social awareness. A fervent desire that had perished a prolonged period of dormancy had started to make it’s presence felt. Journalism, other than the murky Indian politics, offers a platform to opine, get heard and get paid for it! A journalist is bestowed with the onus of bridging the gap between the truth and the mass, thus making it a socially responsible profession as well as a fulfilling experience. The respect and recognition the profession draws has served as an impetus for me to forego the lures of the IT industry and thrive for taking up social causes which have languished in the necropolis for long.
Couple of years down the line, I aspire to make my mark as a journalist whom the society looks up to for truth, logical and impartial opinion. If I succeed in making optimal use of the platform this profession provides to unravel the fallacies in society and make living a pleasure for even a handful of the needy in the process, I would consider my tenure well lived and well served.