Thirty-eight years. That was the gap between the launch of the first English newspaper in India and the first regional language daily.
The Bengal Gazette was started in Calcutta in 1780 by an Englishman. In 1818, the first vernacular newspaper in India, Samachar Darpan in Bengali, was launched. It took another four years to launch the first Gujarati newspaper, fourteen for the first Marathi newspaper and thirty six years for the inception of the first Hindi newspaper.
Since then, prominent regional newspapers have been published in languages including Tamil, Malayalam, Telugu, and Urdu.
The growing literacy rate and the emergence of a new class of people, literate in their own language, have led to the continuous expansion of the regional Indian press. In terms of the number of publications, readership and influence, the vernacular press may have even overtaken the English one.
But despite its rich history, the regional press has not been able to cover the gap between itself and the English media when it comes to market size (going by individual languages), facilities to employees, wages, glamour and impact.
Language scribes get secondary treatment compared to their ‘big brothers’ in English. The salaries and perks given to them are always less than those of their English counterparts, even if they belong to the same media house.
Shockingly, after more than 30 years of experience, a language journalist in a southern state draws an annual salary of just four lakh rupees. The reason cited for this discrimination is that the market size of the language is small.
A few years back, the Resident Editor of a leading language daily quit in protest against the management’s refusal to give him a car, while providing that privilege to his English-language counterpart.
Interestingly, the circulation of this particular language daily is far larger than that of its sister publication in English. In fact, the city edition of the English paper survives on the revenues earned by the language daily.
The disparity is not restricted to wages and benefits. In many cases, the number of staff is less in the language press. This is typically more pronounced in multi-lingual media houses with one English publication than in independent regional newspapers.
The language dailies or weeklies in big media houses are asked to appoint fewer reporters, and instead, pick up and translate news and articles from the flagship English publication.
A few years ago, the Editor of a prominent language daily insisted to the management that the team of sports reporters covering the Olympics must include one from his paper. Otherwise, he threatened not to use the English copy. His contention was that for years, the media group had been sending only English daily reporters to cover events, and so at least sometimes, the language reporters should be given a chance to get on the big stage. Moreover, the language reporter could write basic, grammatically-correct English, and even if his copy needed improvement, the English desk could take care of that. Because of the editor’s distinguished status both in society and in the media house, the management finally gave in to his demand. But it isn’t often that such a concession is made.
The third problem, and one of the biggest challenges language scribes face, is related to the prevalence of plagiarism.
When a language reporter files an exclusive story, the impact is restricted to that language group and state. Often, English press reporters blatantly pick up these stories, rehash them with a couple of minor quotes or details, and publish them with their own bylines, without giving any credit to the original publication or the reporter.
Once the story appears in the English press, it makes a nationwide impact, and it is deemed to have been broken by the English publication. The careers of many English language reporters have probably thrived on such instances, and these reporters have become celebrities.
In the ’80s, the Editor of a well-known English daily told his staff that whenever they came across an important exclusive story in a regional language sister publication, they should talk to the concerned people, confirm the story and then publish it as the English edition’s scoop. On the other hand, the language publications were expected to translate their counterparts’ stories as they were, with full credit.
In protest, the language reporters stopped sending copies of their news reports to the English publication. As a result of this, the English paper completely missed an important exclusive about deaths in a government hospital caused by adulterated drugs, forcing the editor to reconsider the instruction.
So, why this ‘Sahib’ mentality? The reasons are probably historic. Perhaps the fact that the first daily to start on this land was an English one set the tone for the future. Also, since the British set foot on this land, English has been the language of the elite, the decision-makers. Instead of losing its influential power in the decades since independence, this perception is growing stronger, despite the phenomenal growth of the language media. Strangely, barring a few exceptions, the English media has taken a corresponding downturn in terms of quality, fast losing its connect with ground reality and living in its own world.
The net outcome of this situation is a general atmosphere of dissatisfaction, frustration and envy for English-language journalists, in the regional press.
On a more practical level, it is leading to, with due respect to exceptions, language scribes aspiring for and accepting concessions and largesse from governments, political parties, individual leaders and corporate bigwigs, aligning with them and writing as per their wishes in return for favours.
Of course, this does not mean the high-earning English press is pious, and stays away from such acts. The recent exposé on the 2G spectrum scam by Outlook magazine shows clearly that reputed English-language journalists are no different, except perhaps in intent and scale. Their lobbying may not have been driven by money, but a thirst for power. Also, a language journalist may not have been able to lobby at the very high level the elite English press can. The role of a vernacular journalist would probably have been restricted to the power corridors of his or her state.
Even a shocking incident such as involvement in influencing government decisions serves to highlight the chasm between the two blocs of the press.
Is thirty-eight years too wide a gap to bridge in a society held by the ‘sahib’ mentality?