ON THE FLIP side, Rajan — at least in his early phase — had the ability of encouraging his staff. After a great job done in covering the Commonwealth Retreat, the reward was not just a good word but also a meal at the nearby Hotel Aroma. (For the CHOGM, Devika Sequeira and Lui Godinho sneaked into the area, and anyone would have thought they were just a couple of Indian tourists; Perviz teamed up with Rajan himself to chase the then-admired now-infamous Robert Mugabe to a church in Chimbel where the once-charismatic leader had gone to trace his ancestors from an empire that once ruled central Africa and part of current-day Zimbabwe. S Vaidyanathan, the former Financial Express chief-sub who's role in stabilising the Herald desk often goes largely unmentioned today, did his usual thorough job on the desk, and we trainees simply joined in the fun with our prank calls what not.)
Rajan can also be an ideal boss, if he so chooses and if he trusts your work. Of course, it can also be difficult to fathom the logic on which this trust is based, in an editor who has strong, if unexplained, likes and dislikes. But his you-manage-things attitude did occasionally help. At one point, we convinced Rajan that the long and difficult night-shifts of those days were stressful, and asked for a five-nights, three-day schedule. This meant that we got two off-days in every ten days, or six in a month. Rajan's response was something to the effect that this was fine, provided we at the news-desk managed things among ourselves and didn't then make a case for more staff. We did. It worked. Any desk-man taking off during the crucial night-shift, made sure to get in a mutual replacement. In a word, this system probably worked better than system of policing shifts. The point here is that if he so chooses, Rajan's style of avoiding micro-controls could actually make for a workable management strategy.
But this phase seems to have ended nearly exactly one year after the launch of the English-language Herald, when the staff got the drift their their editor was unable or unwilling to take their issues into account, and almost all jointly formed a union. When Rajan learnt of this, his reaction was one of a man betrayed.
Part of the problem could have been that Rajan also perceived the insecurity of his tenure. One got the feeling that the paper was not being improved beyond a point, as this could make those at the editorial top dispensable.
Over the next few years, the fetters started coming on. Rather quickly. To the staff, it was pretty clear who Rajan's own sacred cows were, even if the editor posited himself as the paragon of a free press. From industrial groups lacking their own mouthpiece in print, to some of the dissidents then harassing the man whom Rajan got into mutually-arrogant ego-clashes with, Pratapsing Raoji Rane.
Rajan also had a perchance to hob-nob with politicians. One of our colleagues always attributes his survival in journalism to then political bigwig Dr Wilfred de Souza . How so? Obviously Rajan had flung across a copy to the sub concerned with a 'Find the mistake in it, or get sacked' threat. Just that time, Dr W's car pulled up alongside the newspaper entrance. Rajan was gone, and so vanished the threat of a loss of the job.
(As anyone who worked on the desk would concede, finding errors on paper, when under pressure, can be the most difficult task. Specially if they are your own errors. Everything looks correct. This writer too has made the stupidest of errors, notwithstanding the reputation of being a fairly careful and concerned desk-person.)
In our early days at the Herald, some of us college-kids who were blessed with two-wheelers — even if we needed two jobs and a loan to manage these — doubled up as 'pilots' to the seniors. It came as a shock to one's post-teenage idealism to hear Rajan argue after being ferried to a lengthy confabulation with a Congress dissident: "XYZ is a good politician. The problem is just that he is so bloody corrupt." Or words to that effect.
If the early freedom was quick to vanish, it didn't take much time to realise that every new paper goes through this honeymoon with truth — extended only as long as the time required to build up its credibility. For the CHOGM, Rajan allowed this writer to report on protests from a citizens' group concerned about the pouring of crores down the drain in the name of building infrastructure. If one recalls right, the figure was around Rs 50 crore (Rs 500 million), a huge sum by early 'eighties standards. Another issue that was a concern then was the manner in which the event was being used as an excuse by luxury hotels to expand their properties. At this time, Rajan's diktat was clear: let the criticism go before the event, but once the CHOGM Retreat starts, no more of it.
Such attitudes, and this was surely not the only case, meant the stifling of a crucial voice at an important time of Goan history. Resultantly, the outstation media, for instance, didn't get a clue that such questions were at all being asked in Goan society. When it comes to recording the history of the 'eighties, there will likewise be many gaps or black holes… and many could be led into believing that these events simply didn't occur.