God, LK Joshi and elusive novel title

God, LK Joshi and elusive novel title

Title of the novel will forever elude me unless I bump into Lalil Kumar Joshi some day, some place in life. However, message of the novel will remain forever with me. It is not that LK Joshi is untraceable but to ask on email or phone what is title of the novel he had discussed with me two decades ago would be a sheer tomfoolery. Anyway, the message is more important than the title.  

As any senior journalist worth the salt in Bhopal will vouch, Lalit Kumar Joshi was one of the finest IAS officers Madhya Pradesh has ever had. As public relation commissioner he set certain high standards which none of his successors could match. He could talk to top most media baron and a cub reporter simultaneously without giving either a feeling of being discriminated against.

In an evening in 1992, I was chatting with LK Joshi in his office about literature. A voracious reader, Joshi used to read three books at a time (not simultaneously, of course). I mentioned during discussion about huge problem in rewriting reporters stories which besides being horrible English lack basic facts. He laughed consolingly and mentioned a novel he had read some time ago.

The novel’s protagonist is a sculptor. Passionate and eccentric, he chisels out from a rock a huge statue of a human figure on the cliff of a hillock. On the other side is a deep valley. Having completed the statue, he invites his friends to see his creation. They come and marvel at the artiste’s labour of love.

They observe that the artiste has taken equal pain in shapely carving out the back part of the statue as the front. “Why have you worked so hard on the back of the statue which no body will see because beyond the cliff is the valley. You are mad. Who will bother to see the back?” wondered one of the friends while admiring the statue.

The artiste paused for a while and looking skyward quietly replied, “The god will see.” The way Joshiji narrated the story touched the core of my heart.   

I had not realised how deeply the story influenced me until a reporter asked the same question that the artiste’s friend had asked. The context was, of course, different. For 20 years, I have been rewriting copies of the reporters, even though I was essentially a reporter myself and late bureau chief. Somehow, I can’t suffer bad English. Or, at least what I think is bad English.  

I had finished rewiring the reporter’s shabbily written story. There was some factual mistake in the last paragraph. I checked with him about the fact. He corrected it but not without adding rather blithely, “Arre Sir, who is going to read this till the last?” I instinctively blurted out, “The god will read”. I wondered what might have prompted this reply.  Then the LK Joshi’s story flashed on the mind. Since then, the narration often haunts me whenever I edit stories.

My aversion to let go badly written stories in the print has not been appreciated even by some of the reporters who should have been, in fact, grateful. I also sometime argue with myself whether is it not true that few, if any one, read stories in English newspapers beyond second para unless they are spellbinding. But such spellbinding stories are  mostly carried on page one. Inside page stories go mostly unread. Most readers even don’t take trouble of unfolding the paper.

But, LK Joshi’s novel makes me feel guilty if ever I let any story in hand go unedited till the last word. I am not fanatic. My inclination to religiosity is fairly recent. Yet, any half hearted attempt or disingenuous tricks in the paper flusters me. I have paid heavy price for being stubborn on this count. But what to do ? Ye Dil Hai Ki Manata Nahi.