Veteran journalist Padmanand Jha passed away at the age of 66 on Monday.
Padmanand Jha, lovingly called Paddy by everyone who knew him in journalistic circles, passed away recently. Paddy was from an era when journalists and politicians were natural adversaries. Vinod Mehta, the flamboyant editor of the times, picked Paddy to be the political editor of Outlook when it was launched in 1995.
I met Paddy in 1995, and he had already made a name for himself. Paddy worked in papers VM had launched and edited earlier. The mid-90s were the time when senior print journalists were transiting to television with the advent of private electronic media. When the Pioneer cookie crumbled, VM’s last job before the launch of Outlook, he and many of his boys including Paddy remained in the cold for some time. This is around the time when Paddy joined NDTV prior to Outlook.
In the founding team of Outlook, Paddy was one of the Big Boys of VM, along with Tarun Tejpal, Sandipan Deb, Prashant Panjiar and Ajit Ninan. Except for Paddy, the rest of them were all ex-India Today editors, a magazine Outlook’s publisher, Deepak Shourie wanted to dislodge from its unassailable number one position, both in quality and circulation.
The launch and the initial years of Outlook were like a fairy tale. There were some 40 of us in the Delhi editorial office, all in our late 20s to early 30s. We had so much fun together, bitching about the bosses, lunching out, bingeing out, shopping out, playing out and partying out. Many of us hung out in the office as long as we could, because it was the most fun place to be. All this was possible because VM himself, and his big boys liked having fun themselves. Make no mistake here, we worked too.
Each one of the Big Boys was a hard taskmaster and an impossible-to-please boss. The best you got out of them was an under-the-breath mutter, ‘not bad’ on your good day. A consolation of an annual measly increment on your paycheck was VM’s acknowledgement of the cause. But we didn’t care, the whole town was talking about how cool we were after each issue hit the stand on the weekend.
The Big Boys were already dudes of their persuasion but VM still was the Big Cat everyone was in awe of, except during the editorial meetings when VM turned to Paddy to list out the stories from the current affairs section. At that moment VM’s stern creases eased up completely, his body slouched a bit more and his voice changed from a tone of inquisition to request when he spoke to Paddy.
Paddy was slight in his build, almost scrawny. But his gaze was pin sharp. There was an aura about him. He was a quarter generation older than me. His affection towards me was one that a senior man has towards a finding-his-ground junior colleague. We became very close. We chatted often till late hours in the office, waiting for the editorial pages to be press-ready. I went with Paddy to the Press Club of India innumerable times.
On one occasion, Paddy invited me to accompany him to a minister’s house for dinner. I do not recall what the conversation was all about, but when we were about to leave Paddy asked one of the minister’s khidmatgars hanging around to call us an auto-rickshaw. (Paddy’s office-provided Maruti 800 had just got stolen.) A few minutes later the minister got up to walk us out. When we reached the portico of the Lutyens bungalow, a gleaming white Maruti car stood there. The minister took the car keys from the driver and forwarded them to Paddy and said, “Here Jha ji, this is your car”.
Paddy replied, “But I don’t have the money to pay you for this”. The minister replied, “Arre don’t worry Jha ji, payable when able”. Paddy politely turned the offer down and we walked out of the gate. The Meridian hotel was next door, so we found an auto-rickshaw there easily.
In June 1997, after we had put the issue to bed on a Saturday, Paddy and I headed for the Press Club in the evening in his car. We spent a few hours there. It was normal for other journalists at the club to come to Paddy’s table to exchange notes, read gossip. Later Paddy dropped me home and we parted, planning to meet the next day, Sunday, at Paddy’s house for lunch. I would bring on some beer with me. On Sunday afternoon, when I reached Paddy’s flat in Noida, Sector 29, I found the door locked. This was unlikely behaviour from Paddy, I thought to myself and left a note. On Monday when I reached the office I heard Paddy had an accident on Saturday night.
After dropping me he reached his home to find that there was a power outage. He decided to go for a walk. While on his walk Paddy got knocked down by a speeding car. He lay unattended for some hours till a car, incidentally of Pratibha Advani, L.K. Advani’s daughter, stopped to take him to the Kailash hospital in the vicinity. Paddy bore severe brain damage and needed months to recover. Paddy’s wife, Masuma, stood rock-like beside him. Paddy could not fully recover. He had lost all his recent memories.
Dr Pranoy Roy, in an act of immense kindness and generosity, offered Paddy a job that his reduced brain faculties could handle. Paddy worked and was loved by all his colleagues at NDTV for many years that followed.
After the accident, Paddy could not have been the same man I knew. I met him only on occasions and always left with a lump in my throat. I wanted to meet him more but I couldn't bring myself to playact as if nothing had changed.
Gods get it wrong all the time, Paddy was one of his victims.