Vinod Mehta was my first editor. We had a free, informal and easy work
environment. He was known for picking the best available team and
Independent in 1989 surely was the pick of the lot.
Everyone had funny anecdotes about him.
Among my funniest memories had me with a bunch of ticker copies in my hand held behind and leaning forward on the chief sub's desk, to look at some more copies. (In those days, we got PTI and UNI on a dot matrix printer which we had to sort. We also got them on our desktops but computers were new back then and sorting on a desktop was not that streamlined).
I felt a gentle tug at the files in my hand behind. I absently gripped my copies harder while continuing to look at something; another gentle tug and i again gripped it harder, refusing to let go, again absently, engrossed in whatever exciting stuff it was that I was reading on the desk in front of me. A third tug and I finally lost my patience. I straightened up, turned around and saw Vinod a foot away, bent almost double, completely focussed on the copies in my hand.
"Oh!" I turned red with embarrassment and let go of the copies which he attacked with great haste and greed. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see a tableload of sub-editors, watching the scene with great merriment, some giggling at the weird sub-editor and her weirder editor. Later, one of them asked me, "For God's sake, WHY couldnt you turn and give him the copies??"
I wanted to know, "And WHY couldn't he simply ask for them instead of trying to prise them out of my hand? He is the editor after all?"
The seniors amongst us answered, "Well, that's Vinod." Indeed.
RIP.
Everyone had funny anecdotes about him.
Among my funniest memories had me with a bunch of ticker copies in my hand held behind and leaning forward on the chief sub's desk, to look at some more copies. (In those days, we got PTI and UNI on a dot matrix printer which we had to sort. We also got them on our desktops but computers were new back then and sorting on a desktop was not that streamlined).
I felt a gentle tug at the files in my hand behind. I absently gripped my copies harder while continuing to look at something; another gentle tug and i again gripped it harder, refusing to let go, again absently, engrossed in whatever exciting stuff it was that I was reading on the desk in front of me. A third tug and I finally lost my patience. I straightened up, turned around and saw Vinod a foot away, bent almost double, completely focussed on the copies in my hand.
"Oh!" I turned red with embarrassment and let go of the copies which he attacked with great haste and greed. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see a tableload of sub-editors, watching the scene with great merriment, some giggling at the weird sub-editor and her weirder editor. Later, one of them asked me, "For God's sake, WHY couldnt you turn and give him the copies??"
I wanted to know, "And WHY couldn't he simply ask for them instead of trying to prise them out of my hand? He is the editor after all?"
The seniors amongst us answered, "Well, that's Vinod." Indeed.
RIP.
