Now even if you allow that concession, what would you do if someone decides to go left, right and centre on a live chat in spite of all the hard work that you have put in preparing him or her for the same?
It's the nightmare of a flying reporter, dude!!! Trust me, behind the camera, it's a real tough job. Once there is this polite beginning from the anchor... Hello Shiv Pujan and stuff... you never know what goes wrong when and when hell breaks loose!
Let me tell you of this one instance when I actually felt like chewing up the very mic I was PToC-ing on.
It was a heady protest day in a red-hot Delhi. Medha Patekar had just been shifted to the All India Institute of Medical Sciences and the followers had built a dam of protest at Jantar Mantar. The men in uniform maintained vigil, but safely from a distance. There were cameras from all the news channels and reporters on their lives.
Some like me dug their earpieces deeper in the ear, to hear hard. But the voice of the anchors was always lost in the slogan shouting and the "inspirational songs" sang against the government and in support of the Narmada Bachao Andolan.
Gradually, most of us devised ways to answer the anchors without knowing what they asked. We presumed the questions must be related to the dam protest. The answers were the same, repetitive in all lives. What changed was the camera locations and the guests.
In an attempt to outwit all other reporters on the job, I tried to catch some 'appealing characters' among the NBA activists. I managed to get a lady... Sorry, forgot her name.
Anyway, she had come all the way from Mumbai to support Medha Patekar. Like a good reporter, I gave her the questions beforehand and made her go through a rehearsal. She sounded perfect. We were on the standby mode and I tried looking into the camera expecting a question from the anchor any moment.
The sun was hot on our heads and the agitation had gained momentum at the approach of some policemen. The same moment a man came running with a cellphone to the lady, saying, 'tumhare pati ka phone hai."
The next 15 minutes were tense moments. What if the live begins! Thank God, the anchor was still to come on. All attempts to stop the lady from taking the phone went unheeded. She talked at length, ensured that her husband and kids were glued to the TV, all set to hear her speak. By the time she had finished, I could hear a faint whisper in my earpiece.
Shiv Pujan if you can????
Expectedly, the question was lost in the din. I nodded as if I had understood the question well and began to answer. Talking the very same stuff I had planned to talk.
Speaking for a few seconds, I thought it wise to introduce the lady. The introduction was brief. I just said she was roughed up by the police the previous night....
But hey! she is already in action! She just grabbed the gunmike before I could even complete the question and went whole hog -- in true Marathi spirit -- abusing policemen for having stolen one of her earrings.
What followed was not audible to me. For a moment, I had probably given in. My mind simply went off. I did realise that she had already spoken for over 40 seconds and I must stop her. It was a live and there was no stopping her.
She did stop eventually, but not before she did all the damage...
The lady looked satisfied at the end, she had vented all the fire that was burning inside her. For a moment, the anchor appeared satisfied (was he?) too. There was no second question from him. The live was over abruptly. I was left wondering why?
For me, it was a small relief -- I had another hour to prepare for the next 'live'. But hardly did I know that I would spend the next hour answering questions from my colleagues back in office as to how come the lady was using all the abuses in a 'live' chat, which every Indian knows.
No, I won't tell you what the abuses were. But yes, even foreign tourists frequenting this land for spirituality do encounter them on and off. Keep guessing then. Till next time...
first published:May 08, 2006, 19:11 ISTlast updated:May 08, 2006, 19:11 IST
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Lights, camera, action... errr wait, there is a call from dear hubby!
Now even if you allow that concession, what would you do if someone decides to go left, right and centre on a live chat in spite of all the hard work that you have put in preparing him or her for the same?
It's the nightmare of a flying reporter, dude!!! Trust me, behind the camera, it's a real tough job. Once there is this polite beginning from the anchor... Hello Shiv Pujan and stuff... you never know what goes wrong when and when hell breaks loose!
Let me tell you of this one instance when I actually felt like chewing up the very mic I was PToC-ing on.
It was a heady protest day in a red-hot Delhi. Medha Patekar had just been shifted to the All India Institute of Medical Sciences and the followers had built a dam of protest at Jantar Mantar. The men in uniform maintained vigil, but safely from a distance. There were cameras from all the news channels and reporters on their lives.
Some like me dug their earpieces deeper in the ear, to hear hard. But the voice of the anchors was always lost in the slogan shouting and the "inspirational songs" sang against the government and in support of the Narmada Bachao Andolan.
Gradually, most of us devised ways to answer the anchors without knowing what they asked. We presumed the questions must be related to the dam protest. The answers were the same, repetitive in all lives. What changed was the camera locations and the guests.
In an attempt to outwit all other reporters on the job, I tried to catch some 'appealing characters' among the NBA activists. I managed to get a lady... Sorry, forgot her name.
Anyway, she had come all the way from Mumbai to support Medha Patekar. Like a good reporter, I gave her the questions beforehand and made her go through a rehearsal. She sounded perfect. We were on the standby mode and I tried looking into the camera expecting a question from the anchor any moment.
The sun was hot on our heads and the agitation had gained momentum at the approach of some policemen. The same moment a man came running with a cellphone to the lady, saying, 'tumhare pati ka phone hai."
The next 15 minutes were tense moments. What if the live begins! Thank God, the anchor was still to come on. All attempts to stop the lady from taking the phone went unheeded. She talked at length, ensured that her husband and kids were glued to the TV, all set to hear her speak. By the time she had finished, I could hear a faint whisper in my earpiece.
Shiv Pujan if you can????
Expectedly, the question was lost in the din. I nodded as if I had understood the question well and began to answer. Talking the very same stuff I had planned to talk.
Speaking for a few seconds, I thought it wise to introduce the lady. The introduction was brief. I just said she was roughed up by the police the previous night....
But hey! she is already in action! She just grabbed the gunmike before I could even complete the question and went whole hog -- in true Marathi spirit -- abusing policemen for having stolen one of her earrings.
What followed was not audible to me. For a moment, I had probably given in. My mind simply went off. I did realise that she had already spoken for over 40 seconds and I must stop her. It was a live and there was no stopping her.
She did stop eventually, but not before she did all the damage...
The lady looked satisfied at the end, she had vented all the fire that was burning inside her. For a moment, the anchor appeared satisfied (was he?) too. There was no second question from him. The live was over abruptly. I was left wondering why?
For me, it was a small relief -- I had another hour to prepare for the next 'live'. But hardly did I know that I would spend the next hour answering questions from my colleagues back in office as to how come the lady was using all the abuses in a 'live' chat, which every Indian knows.
No, I won't tell you what the abuses were. But yes, even foreign tourists frequenting this land for spirituality do encounter them on and off. Keep guessing then. Till next time...
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