dailyO
Voices

Goodbye my friend Neelabh Mishra. The sky won't be the same without you

Advertisement
Panini Anand
Panini AnandFeb 27, 2018 | 21:07

Goodbye my friend Neelabh Mishra. The sky won't be the same without you

Saturday (February 24) morning, the sky was blue after the sunrise. however, it was unusually tense. The azure sky had suddenly turned dark. An unseen but palpable void covered the horizon that saw numerous clouds submerge into it.

And then at 7.30am on Saturday, Neelabh Mishra breathed his last and started an eternal journey.

He wasn't ever like the shores that make noise, but quiet like the bottomless sea. And that probably was the reason the sea always fascinated him.

Advertisement

neelu690_022718074645.jpg

I had been feeling unsettled inside since the beginning of February, when I heard that Neelabh was moving to Chennai for Liver transplant at Apollo Hospital. And when I went to see him, I knew (and as doctors told me) that only a miracle could save him.

We all agree that he didn't really have to go so early, however, we also agree no matter how long it was, Neelabh lived his life to fullest.

Every time I think of him, I am reminded of the fact that what is more important than anything else is living, and Neelabh's life best demonstrates how to live. Far removed from skulduggery, or pomposity, or graft, Neelabh presented an example of a life lived with humanity, and integrity that remained committed to raising questions related to issues concerning the general public. In doing so, he only played fair to the journalist inside him. Speaking less, listening more, focusing on the simplicity of language while speaking in a tone that never sought to offend its target audience, Neelabh refrained from anger and angst in his public dealings.

I first happened to meet Neelabh in Jaipur, Rajasthan in 2002. Neelabh could be easily spotted gauging mass protests keenly and intently from some non-descript corner amid the crowd. Young journalists, like I was back then, used to be filled with renewed energy in Neelabh's company. Each meeting with him taught me something new - a unique angle, a fresh perspective, or few new words - each encounter left me enriched.

Advertisement

Always speaking in a hushed tone, he appeared to be a tree laden with mangoes which had both shade and fruits to offer.

From Jaipur, he moved to Delhi and started working with Outlook Hindi. Neelabh first stayed in Anandlok and subsequently moved to Shahpur Jat. With an aim to make a comeback to mainstream journalism after getting disillusioned with Arvind Kejriwal, I too started staying with him.

Neither did I ever ask Neelabh for a job, nor did he offer. It was like a tacit understanding between us. Somewhere between a situation of working with him and working for him, the two of us continued to work for our respective organisations.

Many a time it was said that I was Neelabh's younger brother. This was not actually wrong since we shared the same home. Ganga was home for both of us as we were born on the banks of the same river even if it was in different states - he in the Magadh of Bihar and I in th Awadh of UP. Ganga remained the shared thread among us.

For years, Neelabh laughed telling me how people told him that we were brothers. To which I always proudly replied, "But what is wrong with that?"

Advertisement

When I reached for his last rites in Chennai, I carried a bottle which had water from both the Well of Zamzam and Ganga. Before he was cremated, I ensured he received his share of Ganga. I have returned to Delhi with his remains and when I go to Garhmukteshwar, I will ensure that I immerse them in Ganga of Gadh Mukteshwar (He was very fond of the place) while I eat kadoo-puri from our favourite food joint. I will leave him there then forever in the lap of Ganga.

The intimacy that the two of us shared hinged on our shared love for food, Hindi language, journalism, music, literature, art and culture and public interest. I have mentioned food first because it was the most important thing. We both insisted on food that was delectable.

We could talk about food for hours, eat anytime and make mouth-watering delicacies out of just about anything. Topics ranging from the social context and politics related to food, to the range of food items and myriad ways of cooking it remained our focus. He used to get mishti doi from Annapurna Sweets at Hauz Khas and I used to cook Jagannathi dalma at home for us.

Our discussion session used to carry on over raita, rice and stuffed veggies.

nee690_022718074541.jpg

Since Saturday, just one thought has been consuming me, a food lover like him was fed with medicines - and just that - turning his body into a store house of chemicals for three full weeks. I wish, Neelabh had risen just once before his death and I could have cooked something that he liked and fed him. I still wish.

I never saw him angry. He was never in a hurry - never impatient, never restless. He was as calm as the ocean. With eyes that always reflected the agility of a child, his presence always gave me the feel of a father. His company made one so relaxed as if there was nothing in the world to be worried about. It was his nature to calm us down after listening to our chattering for hours.

Amid all this, one thing that he never compromised on was work. Work had to be done in time and meticulously. When it came to how news was to be seen, interpreted and then how it should be articulated, consolidated and presented in the newspaper or the news medium, he was as harsh a taskmaster as Guru Dronacharya. His translation capabilities were so impeccable that it appeared that what he translated had actually been written in Hindi and later translated to English. News for him was always bigger than the person. Today, I have no hesitation in accepting that I kept writing for him, under various names, even as he changed organisations.

Neelabh taught me one thing repeatedly. Never stop a piece of news, nor let anyone else stop it. If someone tries to stop you from telling a news story, fight. If you still can't have your way, give the story to some other journalist. A byline for him was inconsequential. He maintained that a byline was only for the sake of fixing responsibility, but the most important thing was the news, which must get published. Neelabh was among those few people who used his awareness, politics and wisdom to polish a story, not as tools to influence or change things.

Neelabh was the man who first introduced me to Mozart and Beethoven. Both of us loved Kumar Gandharva and Subbalakshmi.

Mango among fruits, sugarcane for juice, sweets among eatables and tea among beverages were his choices. Very few people know that thandai (a milk almond shake) was also one of his favourites. That sweetness forever remained a part of his personality.

Even his enemies cannot complain that Neelabh ever hurt anyone. He used to debate on the basis of facts, but even as he debated, Neelabh ensured his language remained simple and his face wore a smile.

The most unique thing about his personality was that he had the knowledge and understanding of every subject. The analysis of subjects on the basis of their regional reality, and a description based on the topic's history were his strongholds. Reflections on literature, art and music based on deep understanding of issues and ability to discuss those issues layer by layer helped present the holistic picture of issues that is hardly found in anyone apart from him.

He was averse to hospitals and ICUs. He consistently insisted that he should not be kept in an ICU.

When I met Kavita Shrivasta on Saturday morning, she said, "Sorry Anand, we couldn't save Neelabh."

I said, "No that's not the case. Neelabh couldn't bear being in the ICU. So he came out of it."

The real strength behind Neelabh's simplicity was his persistence. What he liked, he liked. What he didn't like, he didn't, and what he didn't want could not be with him. He would keep mumbling the Charaiveti sholka and move on.

This is how he moved on from Patna, from Navbharat Times, from the post of Outlook's editor. It is with this attitude that Neelabh dealt with political pressure and appeasement. It is this mantra that he kept repeating until his death and left for his eternal journey.

Neelabh was actually too bored of that ICU.

He liked to read in his free time, but then who has free time these days. So let's put it this way, he used to sneak out time for books even on his most busy days. Reading before going to bed was a matter of habit for him. Saddled in his chair, Neelabh would turn page after page with such tenderness that you could easily mistake it for a man moving his fingers through his beloved's long, lovely locks.

The topics he read about were varied. This great scholar of English literature, dedicated himself to Hindi journalism for his love of Hindi. But very few people enjoy his kind of command over English literature.

Neelabh died of multi-organ failure, including his kidney, liver and brain. That is how medical science would describe it. But Neelabh was being invited by the ocean. It had started moving towards him to take him away towards the horizon. He stayed for a while because his friends wouldn't let him go easily. He delayed his journey for his friends, but eventually left to meet the horizon.

All efforts to stop him proved futile in front of Neelabh's insistence on being allowed to leave. Friends and the best medical equipment from across the globe failed to stop him from leaving the ICU.

Before leaving, Neelabh left both his eyes for someone to see the world again, but he also left a vision for millions of others. And honouring that vision is our biggest responsibility.

In Chennai, we made him listen to Kabir bhajans. When we reached the electric crematorium in Chennai, women carried his body on their shoulders. No rituals were performed. Slogans of "Veervanakam" and "Inquilab Zindabad" reverberated in the air. I kept singing Kabir's bhajans to him. Poems kept being read out to him. And while all this was going on, Neelabh was consigned to flames that joined the skies.

When I try to recollect people who have become milestones in the field of journalism, the names that immediately come to mind are Ajit Bhattacharya, Girish Nikam, Alok Tomar, and Pradyut Lal. But someone who saw life as a whole and valued life above its material pursuits, someone who made one feel how important he would be had he not been a journalist, on that list it all comes down to just two names - Prabhash Joshi and Neelabh.

Prabhash ji lived longer than Neelabh. He also managed to do a lot in the field of communication. But after his demise, there was just one relief - now, even that is gone.

Actor Sridevi too died on Saturday night in Dubai. The entire media got busy covering that news. The social media profiles of journalists are filled with news on the actor's death. This wave also has consumed space for most big political and social news stories.

I helplessly watched the television sets that looked like empty boxes and the breed of journalists who could not see their real loss. Maybe this is the truth of modern-day journalism because people like Neelabh no longer exist to question it. This number is fast depleting and the profession is moving towards madness at a similar speed.

Living through these dark times and mad race without Neelabh is surely going to prove difficult.

Last updated: February 28, 2018 | 13:29
IN THIS STORY
Please log in
I agree with DailyO's privacy policy