Bottoms up!

I do not wish to seem fashionably blasé or anything and, crucially important as these issues are, abrogation of Article 370 with the Supreme Court putting its rubber seal of approval on it, and the Hitchcockian suspense surrounding the appointment of Chief Ministers to the three Hindi heartland states bagged by the BJP in the recent assembly elections, concluding with the ultimate denouement, i.e. the names being named – there simply was so much of it on television that my head is still swimming. Sorry about that very long and convoluted opening sentence, but I am just keeping in step with the way political developments unravelled last week in India.

As for the eyebrow-raisingly surprising names of those new Chief Ministers appointed in Chhatthisgarh, Madhya Pradesh and Rajasthan, ask me again in about three months’ time and I just might be able to recall them. For now, the Prime Minister, with his penchant for pulling rabbits out of hats, could well be quoting south Indian superstar Rajinikanth, ‘Enn vazhi, thani vazhi,’ or loosely translated without transliterating, ‘It is my way or the highway.’ I am sure Modiji, who never misses a trick, would make the effort to learn that line in Tamil, should he get the opportunity while campaigning next in Tamil Nadu, but the ‘zh’ sound as in ‘vazhi’ could prove to be his Achilles heel, as many other Indians have discovered, Tamilians included. Not that that will stop the great man. He will bash on regardless. He recently loosed off a couplet or two in Telugu, while addressing his party faithful in the capital, willing his words to be heard in distant Telangana. One can only take his word for it that he was speaking in Telugu. Two marks for effort!

That said, I am giving a wide berth to the election results and Article 370 (or 35A, come to that) for the time being. Instead, I am turning my attention to the all-important subject of bottom pinching, touching or patting. Yes, you heard that right. Before you get the wrong impression about me, allow me to explain. I am not a weirdo. I am only responding to a prominent news item in a prominent daily headlined, ‘Man held for a day for touching woman’s bottom.’  Now, in the normal course of things, if such an announcement were to occupy a couple of lines at the bottom (that word again!) of a page under ‘Miscellany’ or some such section, that would be understandable, but only just. However, perverted behaviour of this nature to be hogging the headlines was a bit much. Tantamount to scraping the bottom of the barrel. I am on a roll here!

So what was it that so excited one of our leading newspapers to find this salacious morsel worthy of making banner headlines? While it would be up to the editor to answer that question, he or she not being readily available to answer flippant questions in response to their flippant headlines, I have taken it upon myself to speculate on the motive behind the newspaper’s thinking. This is entirely from my fevered imagination and most likely bears no relation to the actual facts. Then again, truth is stranger than fiction.

We are in the conference room of the esteemed daily and all the editors, sub-editors and cub reporters gather round late in the evening to discuss the next day’s issue and topics that merit attention. I have not actually worked in a newspaper organisation but I am reliably informed that this is the normal practice to prioritize the contents for the following day’s issue. To add verisimilitude, I would have liked to say that it was a smoke-filled conference room, the men and women dragging on their Wills Filter fags or some fancy hand-rolled tobacco and downing cups of coffee to keep their frayed nerves under control. However, that romantic Raymond Chandler inspired image would be grossly inaccurate. These days, smokers are treated as pariah outcasts, banished to the streets where they can finish their smoke and get back, huffing and puffing their carcinogenic lungs out and sidle bashfully back to the meeting. Coffee (or tea), however, will be consumed at the rate of knots. And so to the meeting.

The editor opens the proceedings. ‘Good evening, ladies and laddies. We have no time to waste. We have to put the paper to bed by 11 pm, so that the early bird can catch the worm, if you get my meaning.’

Some of the junior subs break into titters, but the editor resumes. ‘This is no laughing matter. Right, what am I bid for state election results taking pride of place on the front page?’

At this, one of the bright sparks pipes up. ‘You mean sir, after the actual front page carrying the party-political advert? Followed by the second front page featuring the Christmas / New Year Sale advert from one of our largest retail brands? Not to forget the vertically-cut half front page carrying some news which no one reads?’

‘Cheeky,’ the editor interjects. ‘I like someone with a bit of spunk, but don’t cross the line. Let us get back on track. State elections, it is. The Israel / Hamas unending conflict can take a back seat. Ditto the Russia / Ukraine imbroglio. We will paper over them, ha ha.’ As the editor laughs at his own weak joke, the others join in awkwardly.

The boss man continues. ‘While we are about it, will someone arrange a quick survey, and I mean really quick. Talk to about 100 people on phone and project what these state elections could portend for the forthcoming general elections in May. What was that? Not a representative sample? Who cares? We won’t reveal the sample size. People like surveys. Let us give it to them. TV channels are feasting on them. Right, that’s pages 1 and 2 taken care of. Moving on to page 3. Any thoughts?’

The senior deputy editor draws the meeting’s attention to the crypto-terror attack on the Lok Sabha. ‘In my view this should go on the front page.’

The editor, irritably. ‘Look we are through with the front page. And we have received feelers from the Home Ministry not to play up the security breach affair in Parliament. Crossing the Home Minister is not good for health. Not for my health, at any rate. Don’t we have anything exciting to play up?’

A young girl in jeans and a bright, yellow ‘I love SRK’ tee-shirt clears her throat. ‘If I may Sir, this bottom patting incident needs to be highlighted.’

‘How much?’ The editor was slightly shocked. ‘Did I hear you correctly? Speak up, young lady.’

‘I am not sure what you heard, Sir. I am talking about this nasty incident on one of our Mumbai trains, where a man was caught and handed over to the cops for repeatedly patting or pinching a lady’s bottom.’ She had everybody’s attention.

‘What was it? Patting or pinching? We need to be accurate. Or was it just accidental touching? Crowded train, sudden braking, people keeling over each other. That sort of thing.’ The editor was quite animated, his eyes gleaming.

‘Not accidental, Sir. The guy was a perv. There were witnesses, including the victim’s husband, who helped in apprehending and handing over the criminal to the police. I do believe, with due respect to all concerned, that this should be highlighted properly in our paper.’

One of the other colleagues intoned, ‘But this sort of thing happens all the time in our country. I think a brief mention should suffice.’

‘Rubbish,’ cried the editor. ‘I completely agree with the young lady. Let us place it on top of page 5, and a minimum of two columns of copy. Anything else? You can write this story.’

‘Thank you, Sir. I already have.’ The young reporter was quite flushed. ‘In fact, I have information that the Metropolitan magistrate was severe when the case was brought to his notice. He said with reference to the victim’s complaint and I quote, “No lady will put stigma upon her merely because somebody touched her buttocks and without any reason.”’

The editor was impressed. ‘The Magistrate’s English may not have been up to scratch but he makes a telling point. People cannot go around touching or patting other people’s buttocks, with or without reason, and that’s that. We have our story. Well done, dear lady. You have distinguished yourself. It’s getting late and you will have to burn the midnight oil and post the story for tomorrow’s edition. Someone kindly see to it that she gets a drop home. That concludes the meeting. Rest of you can take care of sports, film reviews, business page etc.’

As the meeting broke up, the editor turned to his deputy, ‘It’s things like this that make my day. Bottom pinching, eh? That will take care of another 10,000 copies, d’you think?’

‘Actually, it was patting or touching, not pinching.’

‘All right, let us not split hairs. I want you to keep a close watch on that girl’s progress. I can see her rising rapidly. Bottom pinching today, interview with the PM tomorrow. She gets preferential treatment. I do not want some rival tabloid pinching her. Ha, ha ha!’

The two of them walked out of the conference room, the editor laughing his guts out, his deputy looking wan and pale. His hands were itching to pinch his editor’s bottom. Wiser counsels prevailed.