| MONDAY Oscillate between deep grief and guilt as I've missed the Roger Waters concert in the city the day before. That, and what happens through the week, however, ensures Floyd keeps coming back, and how. |
| WEDNESDAY Early morning appointments are difficult for journalists who can't get (their) motors to start (from the album Fictitious Sports), but since this is with the Assistant Commissioner of Police at the Dadar police station I just have to make it. The Mumbai police want some information on some queries I'd raised with a telecom company. The phone rings as I'm on my way "" 'make it quick', shouts the caller. Is a bit disconcerting, but then my editor does much the same thing. Floyd comes back "" Invisible transfers, long distance calls, hollow laughter in marble halls (The Dogs of War). |
| Looks like I'm in trouble since the inspector tells my Resident Editor to sit in another room. "No one but the person summoned can be part of any interrogation." Mother, do you think they'll break my balls? asks Floyd softly in my ears. The inspector offers me a cup of tea to ease the tension, "That is green tea, our sahib likes it very much." It tastes nice, and I patiently begin explaining the nitty gritty of journalism, how we get information, and so on. The rising eyebrows indicate my answers aren't satisfactory. The inspector wants me to sign a statement implicating a couple of my sources. (He's) gonna make all your nightmares come true (Mother)comes to mind as the inspector threatens to arrest me. I repeat for the nth time that source-confidentiality is the bedrock of our profession. In this case, I didn't even get any information. I've just being called in since I cover the sector. I was given the impression I was supposed to help the Law, now I'm being given the impression I'm on the wrong side of the law. The inspector plays his trump card "" "I'm going to call a press conference and announce that you are one of the accused in this case." It doesn't seem he will, but if he does? I think of the meagre earnings of those selling vada pav at Worli seaface, bhel at Mathurdas Mill Compound or starting a pan-beedi shop at Nariman Point. |
| This mental torture goes on for two-and-a-half hours. I'm obviously not too convincing since I'm still asked to give a written statement naming my source. The Resident Editor finally steps in to say I cannot be forced to divulge names as this goes against journalistic ethics and source confidentiality, both vital aspects of freedom of the press. He's told that if I don't, I will be "arrested immediately for blocking the investigations into the case". He steps out and, through a few calls, petitions for help. I'm allowed to leave, grateful but completely numbed by the experience. |
| THURSDAY Skip breakfast and lunch as I don't feel up to it. Stare blankly at the computer screen. For once, the boss doesn't object. It's going to be a long week, month... |
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