The morning newspaper. It’s a wholesome experience. The eyes wander from one headline to another. Stop here. Read. Lose interest. Move on. Squint there. Read. Sip chai. Read more. “Ah! That’s an interesting editorial. I must tell Ami about it.” But, it bothers me to see the headlines dominated by blasts, politics, scams, and cricket. Usually, I prefer not to read the lead story – everything else appears more interesting. What is the point of reading stories of corruption and death the first thing in the morning?
I’ve often wondered why newspapers cannot publish an inspiring story or at least an interesting picture as their headline. I am sure newspapers have their rules, but what stops them from touching a heart? How many of us know about the Paralympic Games? Did India participate? How many athletes did we send? Did it strike us that every one of the over 4000 athletes at the recent 2012 Summer Paralympic Games at London deserves their story to be told. Do we care? If there’s a flood, tell me about a person who held out a helping hand, without care to caste and creed. If it is the holy month of Ramzan, tell me a story of how haleem has nothing to do with religion.
Or, say it with pictures. A cricket fan with either cheek painted with the flags of India and Pakistan. Tea plantations. Festivals. Bazaars. Mounds of red chillies. A bangle store. Small fishing boats returning after the morning catch. A vendor selling fresh vegetables in her tokri. The entrance to an ordinary hut in any part of India. Elephants cooling off in a pond in the summer heat. Children floating their paper boats in the puddles of the first fury of the monsoons. A train chugging into a station in the middle of the Thar desert in the chill of the morning air. Or, how about a villager, squinting at the morning newspaper in his wizened hands, with a hot cup of chai steaming by his side?
I’ve often wondered why newspapers cannot publish an inspiring story or at least an interesting picture as their headline. I am sure newspapers have their rules, but what stops them from touching a heart? How many of us know about the Paralympic Games? Did India participate? How many athletes did we send? Did it strike us that every one of the over 4000 athletes at the recent 2012 Summer Paralympic Games at London deserves their story to be told. Do we care? If there’s a flood, tell me about a person who held out a helping hand, without care to caste and creed. If it is the holy month of Ramzan, tell me a story of how haleem has nothing to do with religion.
Or, say it with pictures. A cricket fan with either cheek painted with the flags of India and Pakistan. Tea plantations. Festivals. Bazaars. Mounds of red chillies. A bangle store. Small fishing boats returning after the morning catch. A vendor selling fresh vegetables in her tokri. The entrance to an ordinary hut in any part of India. Elephants cooling off in a pond in the summer heat. Children floating their paper boats in the puddles of the first fury of the monsoons. A train chugging into a station in the middle of the Thar desert in the chill of the morning air. Or, how about a villager, squinting at the morning newspaper in his wizened hands, with a hot cup of chai steaming by his side?
Urmilla Chandran
The author is co-founder and Director, Content Development at Steta
The author is co-founder and Director, Content Development at Steta
