TV News’ Rider On The Storm

There is an old new geezer in town and he goes by the name of Shiv Aroor.

Geezer: the delightful Cockney equivalent of the Yankee “dude”, but subtler – imagine Robert De Niro tossed along with Michael Caine into a mixer-grinder. Don’t-mess-with-me, come-mess-with-me. No? Buy us a drink, then, wudjya.

Yup, Shiv’s a geezer. And like most geezers (pronounced gey-e-zaaahs) he is taken with heavy metal and fighter planes and fast cars. Shame his Twitter profile pic reminds you of a pensive Robert Vadra, a pretend geezer. (Biceps and bikes do not a geezer make, no-waugh-ameen?!)

So what in heaven’s name is Shiv doing anchoring news shows most nights, even as other geezers are busy knocking down pints and practicing chat-up lines in dimly lit pubs?

That’s because he’s a rare bird, our Shiv – a geezer who is not just street-smart but also studio-smart. Politics, sports, guns, submarines, LOCs…you name it and chances are he’s grilled politicians, sportsmen, generals, admirals, and Pakistanis on all of the above, and in a manner that is Arnably-unsettling for the prevaricators.

Come to think of it, I find Shiv and Arnab to be the only two fiercely anti-establishment nutters in TV news space, the kind who’d rush gladly inside a burning house knowing fully well there’s no mother-child combination to be rescued. They like it when things start to get a little hot. But Arnab is not a cool dude, no, never. He is the granddad who stopped ageing. Doesn’t do Twitter, doesn’t answer calls for interviews, and is as approachable as an alpha male kept forcibly on a diet of green salad and celibacy. How else can one explain all that shouting and screaming, an attribute hitherto absent from Shiv’s munitions store? Yes, Shiv is the milder dose. He is Arnab returning from a rehab clinic, on a thrumming Bullet – a modern-day Shashi Kapoor negotiating mustard fields and dupatta swirling damsels.

In keeping with this enchanting imagery I ask Shiv if he’s married.

“Married to a journalist from Times Now”, he replies matter-of-factly.

Embarrassed, I rephrase: “What I wanted to ask was – does your job give you enough quality time to relax and lead a life away from TV?”

“As I said, married to a journalist from Times Now.”

Abandoning that trail swiftly I come straight to the point. “What was your first reaction when your Twitter account was blocked?”

For those who may be unaware Shiv and 100 other tweeters were blocked by the government last autumn from using their Twitter accounts – for reasons not entirely known or understood. Rioteers? Goons? Trollers? Or just plain anti-establishment?

“My first reaction was”, says Shiv, “Ok, I’m blocked, but I’m still using Twitter. They couldn’t even do this right?”

“Do you realise that it wasn’t just random? I mean, Rajdeep’s and Kumar Ketkar’s accounts weren’t blocked. Why you?”

“Of course it wasn’t random. But the government was stupid enough to leave footprints the size of dinosaur paw-marks. They had to retreat because of how clumsy and hilariously amateurish the entire operation was.”

There I’d have to agree. The first thing they should’ve blocked was the PMO’s Twitter handle for bombarding unsuspecting citizens with the most boring, text-bookish, and monotonous tweets ever formulated by man. Those adjectives sure do ring a bell – careful now…

Shiv grew up in Madras (now Chennai) and spent a few of his formative years at Rishi Valley, doing the hard grind under open skies and giant green canopies. It was when he was in class 12 – as early as that – that he decided to become a journalist. By the time he finished his undergraduate studies at St Stephen’s his mind was made up. Ironic that a freewheeling anti-establishment rogue should emerge from that star-spangled den forever churning out pro-establishment media celebrities.

“Do you think Justice Katju is right in demanding that journalists first qualify with a degree and only then enter journalism?”

“A degree in journalism? Or a degree in general? Either way, I don’t think I agree.”

Pardon him, Justice Katju, for he’s only 33 and still young, and besides, he’s an anchor – he’s suffered enough!

“What was it that attracted you to journalism?” I ask, cunningly avoiding the prospect of an hour-long discussion on the phenomenon that is Justice Katju.

“The appeal of doing something different each day was always huge,” answers Shiv. “I was obsessively curious about stuff growing up – even mundane things. I am even now. Not sure if that may have had something to do with it.”

“Did you have any role models then?”

“The team of journalists at the early NDTV. They were rockstars, true pioneers. A big role model growing up was Prannoy Roy.”

There you have it. Dev D acknowledging the debt he owes to Devdas.

“Do you have any role models now?”

As any journalist will tell you, journalism isn’t all a bed of roses. By 2004, Shiv was so bored with covering business at Financial Express that he quit without a job in hand. Sent a “thank you and goodbye” e-mail to Shekhar Gupta for the good times and packed his bags. He was 23 years old, more terrified than happy.

“There was no looking back, though”, he adds. “Of course it helped that I had a life-long interest in fighter aircraft. It was with Headlines Today that I truly got a chance to cover conflict – in Kashmir, Sri Lanka and Libya. War is a terrible thing, but as long as it’s inevitable, there isn’t a lot I wouldn’t do to be there covering it.”

Itching for the frontline? “Cor blimey!” as a geezer would exclaim.

Early January, as news filtered in of LOC skirmishes and runaway grannies, Shiv flew down to the sensitive border area, sending hourly dispatches and regular tweets from the moment he landed. It wasn’t Robert Fisk-atop-an-Egyptian-tank but it was good, and measured, and it provided the viewers a perspective entirely missing from the usual Delhi-centric news coverage that one is bombarded with daily.

“Isn’t the news studio a bit like a war room?” I ask.

“Isn’t it?! Everything about TV news is tailored to be, by default, aggressive. Debate shows, interrogations, breaking news situations. It’s fairly clear that treating the delivery of TV news like you were doing it from a war room suits the medium – and it clearly helps the ratings too.”

“You ask uncomfortable questions to politicians – that’s the first thing I noticed about you. Do you think – purely from an Indian journalist’s perspective – that you’ll lose them if you continue to persist with real nut-crackers? I mean, most anchors desist from asking probing questions to the netas…or to their set of netas, as is many times the case.”

Shiv is forthright. “As someone who hasn’t covered much politics, I suppose it helps that I don’t have political leanings or proximities with individuals or parties. Also, I ask the questions that I, and I imagine the viewer, is curious to know the answers to. It isn’t easy, and I don’t think I’m anywhere near as proficient as several other journalists who are outstanding questioners.”

“Have you ever been asked by Headlines Today to desist from your tough line of questioning?”

“Never. Not once been given instructions on line/tone/tenor for a story I’m doing.”

We conveniently forget that anchors don’t have the luxury, like viewers do, of switching channels the moment they feel uncomfortable watching the barbarity this nation is capable of or the manner in which its citizens are treated day-in-day-out. The gut-wrenching poverty, corrupt politicians, robbing policemen, absent health-care, children scavenging landfills – no rolling up of car windows here.

“Tell me: are you disillusioned by journalism? Do you feel you are making a difference?”

“Sure, there are days when despair sets in. I’ve had several moments of “This is useless. Nothing ever changes in this country” or “This country cannot be governed.” But I’ve noticed that there are always events that somehow stir back your faith. In an atmosphere where journalists are derided and sneered at as agents and dalals, I think it’s important for those of us with a clear conscience to continue to believe in journalism as a most noble profession.”

“Is it your natural predilection and love for the armed forces that makes you distrust the political class and makes you a bit of a dissident roadie?”

“Perhaps. The way the armed forces are treated and regarded in this country by the political class makes it easy to be distrustful of them. I try not to be by-default distrustful, though. There has to be a fair margin between that and scepticism. There are politicians who care about, know about and try to do things for the armed forces. Not nearly enough of them, though.”

Shiv is unusual among the young breed of news anchors, in that he honed his skills in print journalism before switching over to the more demanding and breathless – not a moment to lose – world of TV news. I feel this has helped him provide the viewers with a lot more balanced perspective to the stories that he covers. The tone is crisp, the narrative nuanced, but the pace unhurried – BBC-like, if you will.

“You were an established columnist. What made you decide to move from print to electronic media?”

“I was Defence correspondent at the Express. I’d originally wanted to be a TV journalist, but felt that I should get some print experience first – fabulous advice from an uncle – grounded me a touch. After five years in print, in 2007, when the opportunity presented itself, I moved to TV.”

One other thing: Shiv is forever interacting with his viewers on Twitter. They applaud him, abuse him, laugh with him, laugh at him. He knows this is important, crucial in fact, for it will shape the quality of news that we watch in days to come. The propensity to accept criticism, to be self-deprecating and allow oneself to be lampooned, to eat the proverbial humble-pie, is a quality that is rare. Among Indians it is rarer. We don’t laugh when the joke’s on us, and we get livid if someone points out our mistakes. Media is no different.

“What’s your opinion of organisations or individuals that critique media? Are they necessary in today’s scenario?”

“Without a doubt. More strength to them. While I don’t believe the media needs a regulator, I have always always felt that the media needs independent watchdogs. And I also believe media should cover the media.”

I’m nearing the end of my inquisition – he’s probably got more important things to do, I gather, like water-boarding a politician. I decide to conclude as provocatively as I had begun.

“One news anchor mentioned on Newslaundry the other day that he got slapped by a politician. How would you have reacted had you been similarly assaulted by a neta?”

“Tell you the truth, I can quite imagine a scenario where a politician finds reason to slap me! And yes, if he does, I’ll have to make it even.”

“Dear God! Without fear of consequences?”

“Consequences? What consequences?”

*****

Image By: Swarnabha Bannerjee