Thread by @nitingokhale

Watched 83, first day second show, thanks to a friend's planning. It was nostalgic, reliving the momentous victory that I had watched on a neighbour's grainy b&w TV set more than 38 years ago. My career, my life is however more intimately connected to the aftermath of 83

Let me recall the events. I had joined the Guwahati-based The Sentinel as a trainee sports sub-editor in May 1983 to keep myself occupied until I could appear for the Combined Defence Services exam in December. Wanted to earn money while learning something new before joining IAF

For a lad not yet 21, those were heady days. I would leave home at 2 pm, watch the Gopinath Bordoloi football tournament matches played in Nehru stadium, reach office, write reports after reaching office and then get down to 'making' the sports page (last in the 8-page newspaper)

The first and the last pages were 'put to sleep' (finalised and sent for print) in those years much after midnight, some time around 3 am. My immediate boss was an irascible but brilliant wordsmith Ananda Dasgupta (God bless his soul: he passed away young).

We hit off immediately. I learnt everything about giving apt headlines under pressure, editing agency copy, writing pithily and most importantly writing simple English under Ananda, who had left his family behind in Calcutta and therefore used to live alone in Guwahati.

Often, Ananda and me used to be the last ones to leave office. Once in a while, he would request me to drive him to the Guwahati Railway station on my dad's borrowed Lambretta scooter around 4 am. We would eat piping hot dosas & wadas, then drop him to his pad before I went home.

The cycle used to be repeated every day. Get up at 12-1230, have lunch, reach the stadium, reach office, report on the matches, make the pages, get back home at 3 or 4 am and sleep when the city was waking up. As a curious, inquisitive young man, I had endless Qs for Ananda.

Then Kapil Dev's team started its astonishing progress in the Prudential Cricket World Cup of 1983. Our hopes soared like the rest of the nation. The ultimate victory was unbelievable. It indeed united the country and brought a sense of pride to our generation.

The team returned home to a well-deserved welcome. Then after 10 days or so, the felicitations and adulation started going overboard; hotels being opened by players, back to back functions in different cities. Even to my immature mind, this seemed over the top.

Three or four times, during our usual night shift, I told Ananda about the likelihood of players getting distracted and overconfident too. He--one of those rare cricket non-enthusiasts--heard me but didn't say anything. Days progressed. June turned into July

One Sunday night, the office was unusually quiet as we tried to put the paper together. The clickety-clack of the agency teleprinters in the newsroom was absent. A major fault in the cables meant we were without the agency news. For a small newspaper this was a disaster.

Sundays are also slow news days for local news. We were struggling to fill up the front and the back pages. Around 11 pm, it was clear to me that despite blowing up old stock photos and taking some features written by local authors, the sports page would not be ready in time

In panic, I asked Ananda for a solution. Under pressure to fill up the front page, he snapped. Do whatever you want, he said more irritated than usual. Again, after 15 minutes, I went back asking the same Q.

This time Ananda flared up: 'You keep criticising the cricket board and the team. If you care so much write an article and fill up the bloody page!' To my young mind, the first public scolding was a big insult. In rage, I went to my desk and scribbled out a piece in about an hour

Took that hand written article to Ananda, who had by this time calmed down. I said here it is. He went through the piece, made several corrections, and handed it to the composing team after writing the headline that you read in the attached photo.

The Sentinel next morning, in July 1983 carried my first ever by-lined article (all the football reports were by 'Our Sports Reporter'). The significance of the byline didn't hit me until I came to the office the next evening. Ananda, on seeing me said let's have tea.

At the roadside tea stall on the Guwahati-Shillong road, Ananda pronounced: Forget your plans to join the air force or the army. You have a natural flair for writing, and writing under pressure. You are not going anywhere. You are destined to be a journalist. I laughed.

Not possible, I instantly replied. I have set my mind on a career in the military and my father, who had recently retired as a JCO from the Army was very much looking forward to seeing me as a Commissioned Officer, I revealed to him. Ananda only smiled in reply.

Life went on thereafter. I kept doing night shifts (did it for eight consecutive years until 1991) and continued to learn the art and craft of producing a newspaper as more and more opportunities came my way. In October 1983, Ananda's father in Calcutta suffered a heart attack

Very reluctantly, Ananda had to leave. I and other team members were distraught. But there was no choice. We collectively tried to fill in Ananda's big shoes. He had trained us well though. Within a month or so, I was given a promotion & made Senior sub-editor on the night shift

The responsibility meant I was now a vital decision-maker. I started interacting with our larger than life Editor, DN Bezboruah more often. The whole process was uplifting. As I grew in confidence, it dawned on me that Ananda was right. I felt at home in the newsroom.

In early December, I broke the news to my parents that I want to continue to be journalist. They were angry, crestfallen, disappointed all at the same time but the newsroom had seduced me, lured me into the profession which no one in the family knew anything about

Despite my parents' initial opposition, I stuck to my guns, continued to work at The Sentinel until 1990 and then becoming founding Executive Editor of The North East Times. Gradually, my parents too reconciled to my choice.

So here I am, an accidental start to my career in journalism because of the Indian cricket team's 1983 victory and its aftermath, has lasted 39 years so far. No regrets, no second thoughts. Have taken life as it has come & managed to survive. That's my greatest satisfaction. ENDS