Why, you ask? Why would an independent, working girl like myself, espouse the cause of a bikini-clad, Caucasian woman, for whom her story (if it were destined for page 3) would be mercilessly shortened? Why would a reporter like I, in endless pursuit of the bigger story, endorse inches on a page intended not to inform or educate, but to excite and titillate?
Because she was an institution, one at par with RK Laxman's work 'The Common Man' or Khushwant Singh's column 'With Malice towards One and All'. Because of her purpose, the comparisons may invite ire but she shared the same characteristics that defined the others - she was always hugely entertaining and unapologetic.
In journalism school, I was taught about a chasm between broadsheets and tabloids. Broadsheets carried 'serious' news, the kinds our dads would read at the breakfast table and shake their heads at while bemoaning the state of affairs our country had come to. Tabloids on the other hand, was where the sleaze and screaming headlines came to stay. Those lines have long blurred. A story about a bar where a fight broke out between revelers because they couldn't choose between Munni and Sheila makes it to the front page of a broadsheet, while a story about the shocking real estate value of slums in Mumbai makes for three pages in a tabloid. The only rule remains is that there are no rules and it has predictably come to this in the newsroom of the 21st century where terms like 'readership', 'demographic' and 'advertisers' often come up in news discussions during the day. The Mate though, made that distinction clear and I never thought that it took away from a serious, hard-hitting story.
I worked at MiD DAY for three years (I don't anymore) where I fought for this girl. Angry readers, mostly mothers, would often call to complain that they couldn't bring the paper home anymore because of the Mates. There were two then, one on page two and one on the front page of the classifieds supplement. Mummies would call in to wail and say things like, "What disgusting photos. You, a woman, must understand how ashamed we feel." Having already been lectured that I couldn't tell these callers to sod off, I would bite my tongue and gently coo that there was little we could do and then encourage them to write to the editor.
I loved her. I was coy about revealing the identity of the man who chose a Mate every day (and I'll still keep your secret, Mr P). The paper had fun with her, like in the anti-smoking campaign, where they blurred the image and a caption read, 'Smoking causes blindness. Stop smoking to really enjoy the MiD DAY Mate' (or something to that effect). They even introduced a QR code with the picture in the paper to let people enjoy more photos if they so wished. She was truly revolutionary - this woman in an itsy-bitsy, teeny-weeny, though not always a yellow polka-dot bikini.
Her clothes always stayed on unlike the girl in The Sun. Of course, there were times when the bosses would gently reprimand the desk for choosing a babe wearing a bunch of shoelaces parading as a swimsuit. "Keep those for private viewing," said one editor at a news meeting. "But ensure that the one that goes in the papers has all the, ahem, essentials covered up."
And then, there were the stories. The tales of men who had folder upon folder of the MiD DAY Mates cut out and neatly filed chronologically. The callers who would phone in to reprimand us that the Mate we had used today was the same we had used six months ago. Once, a crime reporter came in to say that in some neighbourhood in Kurla, cut-outs of the Mates were being sold for Rs 2 a picture - two-thirds the cost of the entire publication itself. Urban legends or otherwise, they all lent to her greatness.
Raise your glasses, coffee mugs and PET water bottles to her, all and sundry. The Mate is dead. May she live on in your memories forever.
10 comments:
I loved the Mr P ;) And I remember the times when people who learnt I worked in Mid Day ranted about the moral repercussions of the Mate and I sniggered thinking I was choosing them.
Ms M (in keeping with the theme)
Sometimes, Mr P allowed me to choose the mate, but only after he had confirmed she matched the requirement did I dare to put it on the page ;)
Ms P.
Wah, there was a style book for her too? How did that escape me in my three years there?
People even used mate as part of their cubicle decoration programme and had nearly won, had it not been for holy fathers and their cathedrals
This is unfair for the men and their clan...to top it all I knew few lady deskies, who did the wonderful job of selecting the right 'Mate' for the job...everyday. Will miss these Miss's
what yaar alisha, mr p and all. i too used to choose mates. but the best ones, and you surely don't know this, used to be chosen by two women... one who is still with the paper and another who has left :)
@Danto.. Hah, I have a pretty good guess at who you're referring to but I'll wait until both Ms S-es make their own case on this space :)
Hey Alisha. I agree with you. finally no calls from uncle and aunties now. Trust me i am waiting for a call were a reader ask us why Mid-DAY mate has been discontinued...Thinking what reply I will give them. May be a speech bubble on me says 'Sale acha hua,kuch aisa dekho aur pado jo tumare kaam aaye. I am wasting my entire day to get this 250 words copy bloody you want to see that Mid-DAY MATE."
loved her for two reasons: she took up a considerable amount of space, less work for the desk, and
the other: loved telling mr p to use a mate that revealed everything but the essentials. ((both of us grinning in acknowledgement of the bizarre situation)
hope there will be resurrection.
--- the ms S who has quit. :)
A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.
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