BG Verghese: Remembering the journalist and his idealism

Mahendra Singh Dhoni announced his retirement from Test cricket the same day that 87-year-old Boobli George Verghese, one of the greatest editors of our times, passed away. At least three national daily newspapers in Mumbai carried Dhoni's "partial retirement" as the lead page one story, with editorials and opinion pieces inside. Likewise, the TV channels had lengthy panel discussions on Dhoni. Even the AirAsia plane tragedy was relegated into the background. There was barely a mention of George Verghese in Indian print and electronic media, a sad reflection of our priorities.

Perhaps, he would have wanted it that way, for George - he liked to be called by his first name, even by his juniors - was the most modest and self-effacing of men. Not to mention gentle. I never saw him lose his temper. He belonged to the generation of "faceless editors", staying away from the limelight and shunning social occasions. He believed that to be truly objective, editors should keep their distance from those in power, whether in politics or business, unlike some of the publicity-hungry media persons of today who revel in rubbing shoulders with politicians, film stars and tycoons. I recall seeing the numerous invitations that would land on his desk every day, when he was the editor-in-chief of a leading daily. He would pass them all on to his secretary, with a hand-written "Regret" scrawled on them. The little socialising he did was with close friends.

He came from a privileged background: schooling at the elite Doon School, college at Delhi's St Stephens, and university at England's Cambridge. Yet, he had the common touch, remaining humble and frugal. Material goods mattered little to him, not even what kind of salary he received. When I was one of his resident editors and he was the editor-in-chief of the group, I wrote to him that even after four years with the paper, I had not received any raise. He replied that he would get back to me. He did, with a letter that I still have with me (this was before the era of email).

"I find," he wrote, "that you are getting a higher salary than me." That was the end of my plea for a raise!

I was then getting, all-told, the princely sum of Rs 4,500 a month. Admittedly, that was some 30 years ago, but in those days you entered journalism, not primarily to make money, but out of a sense of public duty and some idealism. India was developing democratically and one wanted to play a part in that development and in promoting democracy and freedom of expression. Sadly, with editors now commanding salaries of several lakhs a month, much of that idealism has gone.

I believe it was his sense of public duty that led him to become Indira Gandhi's media adviser (and also standing for the Lok Sabha - he lost). However, that did not prevent him from criticising her government's forcible takeover of Sikkim ("Kanchenjunga, Here We Come" was his famous editorial) in the paper he subsequently edited, a criticism which cost him his job.

Democratic values were always his prime focus and in his autobiography, First Draft: Witness to the making of Modern India, he decried the degradation of democracy under Indira Gandhi and her son, Rajiv.

Apart from his fierce independence and stout defence of the freedom of the press, Verghese was a humanitarian with a liberal outlook. Though a Christian by faith, he was completely secular, embracing socialist values. His single-minded devotion to work and his transparent integrity were legendary. One editor labeled him a "boy scout" and Ramnath Goenka nicknamed him, "Saint George". There was perhaps an element of mockery in those descriptions but also deep respect. There was not even a touch of malice in George Verghese himself, nor any cynicism, only goodness and eternal optimism. He always saw the bright side of life. His first book, based on reportage he did for The Times of India, Design for Tomorrow, was centred around industrial projects intended to make the country self-sufficient.

I was a 25-year-old into my first job as an assistant editor at the The Times of India. George Verghese was my boss (though he was not the editor). The year was 1965. The war between India and Pakistan had just broken out and Bombay, as it was then called and where the "Times" was headquartered, was considered to be the prime target of Pakistani bomber planes. Instructions had been issued that if the air-raid siren was sounded, we should immediately take shelter under our desks to avoid the glass from shattered window panes, following a bombing raid.

I had just written my assigned editorial on the need for more bridges in underdeveloped and floods-prone Bihar, and sent it to Verghese. The editor would summon his juniors to his cabin to discuss additions or deletions in editorials. But the unassuming and exceedingly modest Verghese was not that kind of boss. Instead, he would go to your cabin. Which is what he was doing, when the air-raid siren sounded its warning. We both dived under my desk, with me feeling excited, though also a little fearful. Verghese remained his usual calm self and, without missing a beat, continued, "As we were discussing those bridges and the floods in Bihar …." I can still recall the two of us, on our haunches, facing each other under the desk, me feeling rather foolish and the ever-earnest George carrying on unperturbed, with the changes I needed to make in my editorial. That incident, which typified George Verghese, has always remained vividly with me, though it happened half a century ago.

Inherently secular, fierce defender of freedom of expression and democratic, liberal values, pristine integrity and utmost simplicity - these were some of the values and traits of Boobli George Verghese. And if truth be told, they are the same values that we should all hold dear.