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Lucknow Boy: A Memoir
Sharp, insightful, shocking, delightful, in this sparkling memoir, Vinod Mehta, Indias most independent, principled and irreverent editor finally tells his own story. With its ringside view of some major events of our times and masterly portraits from the worlds of politics, business, films and the media, this unputdownable book brims over with wit, wisdom, scandal and gossip.
325 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2011
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479 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 29 of 116 reviews
May 14, 2021
This book is a peck on your cheek from the author, who's always got one eye trained on the mirror behind you, checking out himself.
Still, for the anecdotes, irreverence and never letting it sputter, three stars.
Still, for the anecdotes, irreverence and never letting it sputter, three stars.
June 18, 2020
A rollicking, rip-roaring, "masala" book that is full of anecdotes, gossip, experience insight. Karl Marx, Brian Lara, Ratan Tata, Protima Bedi and the story of her nude pictures, Vajpayee, Sanjiv Kumar's erectile dysfunction and so much more come alive in this autobiography narrated in an irreverent, candid way. The book begins with a wonderful exposition of the Lucknow of those times - a charming, old-fashioned city where the currency was food, friendship and the ability to spin a good yarn - something Mehta Saab has picked up very well. It is also an ode to his and the nation's secularism, a living breathing secularism he picked up from his experience rather than from any book. The tale shifts to London for a few years as Mehta has a lot to absorb, learn and explore. His idealism is shattered as he realises how little he knows. William Blake, Graham Green, The John Profumo affair, Mini Skirts all feature here. His return to India begins with Bombay with the centrepiece, of course, being the editor and revivor of Debonair. He then sets up 2-3 newspapers before becoming the editor of Outlook. The story then moves ahead at the speed of sound with events unfolding one after another and the concomitant gossip, anecdotes, insights - Pokhran, Nira Raadia, Modi, Gujarat Riots ....
Overall, this was a super fun read!
There is a sequel to this book as well which is much shorter and acts as a companion piece.
Overall, this was a super fun read!
There is a sequel to this book as well which is much shorter and acts as a companion piece.
July 24, 2014
I came across this name 2 years back but got my hands on the book only recently. It was a superb read. Generally auto-biographies are tend to be boring( this is a personal view so bear with it ) but this one keeps you glued to your seat. One of its kind that doesn't glorifies the person himself/herself but talks much more; about the times he has been through; an insight of the people he has met; about how the media runs and gets influenced by politicians and other big guns.
It is a like a revision of whats going on in India for last 30 years ( do read it just in case you missed reading newspapers all this while :P ).
Fun to read, author's witty and sarcastic tone makes it even more interesting. Some people have the ability to make a boring scene look interesting too and also handle the criticism well. So if you haven't met anyone with both these talent, meet Vinod Mehta through his awesome memoir, Lucknow boy.
It is a like a revision of whats going on in India for last 30 years ( do read it just in case you missed reading newspapers all this while :P ).
Fun to read, author's witty and sarcastic tone makes it even more interesting. Some people have the ability to make a boring scene look interesting too and also handle the criticism well. So if you haven't met anyone with both these talent, meet Vinod Mehta through his awesome memoir, Lucknow boy.
February 12, 2025
"The mood in our vibrant democracy, where every neta pays lip service to press freedom, has soured distinctly. Journalists are no longer seen as knights in shining armour fighting evil wherever it may exist. They are seen, with honourable exceptions, as tricksters, fixers, people who can be purchased with flattery combined with a little access and, more worryingly, cash." - Vinod Mehta
গণমাধ্যমকে প্রায়শই গদি-মাধ্যম হয়ে উঠতে দেখা যায়। সংবাদকর্মীরা হন সত্যের বদলে ক্ষমতাসীনের সেবক৷ তাই সংবাদমাধ্যমের বিশ্বস্ততা আজ তলানিতে। পেশা হিসেবে সাংবাদিকতার সুনাম নেই বললেই চলে। কেন এমন হলো? দায় কী শুধু সাংবাদিকের? বিনোদ মেহতা চার দশকের বেশি সময় সাংবাদিকতা করেছেন। সম্পাদক হিসেবে বহুবার চাকরি ছেড়েছেন এবং খুইয়েছেন। "Lucknow Boy" তার অসামান্য স্মৃতিকথা৷ যেখানে ব্যক্তিজীবনের 'অপ্রিয়' সত্য লিখেছেন সাহস নিয়ে। সাংবাদিকতা অঙ্গন নিয়ে বিভিন্ন ঘটনার মাধ্যমে পেশাটির সংকট ও দায়বদ্ধতা নিয়ে খোলাখুলি লিখেছেন। অসামান্য সুন্দর বিনোদ মেহতার লেখার হাত।
বিনোদ মেহতার আদি নিবাস লখনউ নয়। পাকিস্তান থেকে দেশভাগের সময় তার পিতামহ ভারতে চলে আসেন। লেখকের পিতামহ ছিলেন বিচিত্র চরিত্র অধিকারী। রমণীমোহন, ফুলবাবু, ক্রিকেটপিয়াসী ও সাধু - এককথায় অভিনব চরিত্র ছিলেন লেখকের পিতামহ। তাকে নিয়ে অল্পকথায় অনেক কিছুই লিখেছেন বিনোদ মেহতা।
লেখকের পিতা ভারতীয় সেনাবাহিনীর ক্যাপ্টেন ছিলেন। অবসরের পর সপরিবারে লখনউতেই থিতু হন। বিনোদ মেহতা নিজেকে 'বিরাট' মেধাবী ও মনোযোগী ছাত্র হিসেবে দাবি করেননি। বরং তিনিসহ তার তিন বন্ধুর প্রধান কাজ ছিল আদি ও অকৃত্রিম লখনউকে খুঁজে বেড়ানো। যাঁরা সত্যজিৎ রায়ের 'শতরঞ্জ কি খিলাড়ি' দেখেছেন, তাঁরা সহজেই ধরতে পারবেন বিনোদ মেহতার পুরোনো লখনউকে। শামসুর রাহমানের 'স্মৃতির শহর' কিংবা ওরহান পামুকের 'ইস্তানবুল' পড়ে যেমন অনুভূতি হয়েছিল, তেমন স্মৃতিমাখা বর্ণনা পেয়েছি বিনোদ মেহতার লখনউতে।
অল্প বয়সেই পঞ্চাশের দশকের গোড়াতেই বিলেতে যান বিনোদ মেহতা। তার এক পরম বন্ধু তাকে লন্ডনে যেতে উদ্বুদ্ধ করে। এরপর বিলাতে তিনি আট বছর ছিলেন। লন্ডন বিনোদ মেহতাকে বদলে দিয়েছিল। তিনি সেখানে পুঁথিগতবিদ্যা অর্জন করেননি। তবে অভিজ্ঞতার হিসেবে যা পেয়েছিলেন তার তুলনা নেই।
লন্ডনে বিনোদ মেহতার অন্যতম কাজ ছিল প্রেম-ভালোবাসার নামে বিভিন্ন মেয়ের সঙ্গে ঘনিষ্ঠ হওয়া। এমনই একটা পর্যায়ে এক সুইস তরুণীর সঙ্গে তিনি ঘনিষ্ঠ হয় এবং মেয়েটি গর্ভবতী হয়ে পড়ে। বিনোদ মেহতা লিখেছেন, তার বয়স তখন মাত্র বাইশ। সামনে পুরো জীবন পড়ে রয়েছে। এমন অবস্থায় বিয়ে করা চলে না। মেয়েটি ছিল রোমান অর্থডক্স পরিবারের। সে সন্তানটিকে নষ্ট করেনি। বিয়ে জন্য চায় দেয়নি। কিন্তু আজীবনের জন্য শিশুটিকে নিয়ে হারিয়ে গেছে বিনোদ মেহতার জীবনপাতা থেকে। এরপর দেশে ফিরে একসময় সংসারী হয়েছেন বিনোদ মেহতা। কিন্তু তাদের সংসারে কোনো শিশু আসেনি। পরিণত বয়সে আত্মজীবনীতে এই অপ্রিয় সত্য বিনোদ মেহতা গোপন করতে পারতেন। কিন্তু করেননি। তা হয়তো অপরাধবোধের কারণে, হয়তো আত্মজীবনী লিখতে বসে সত্যনিষ্ঠার বশে। প্রকৃত কারণ একমাত্র তিনিই জানেন।
দেশে ফিরে কিছুদিন বিজ্ঞাপনসংস্থায় চাকরি করেন বিনোদ মেহতা। এরপর সাংবাদিকতায় পূর্ব কোনো অভিজ্ঞতা ও প্রাতিষ্ঠানিক পড়াশোনা ছাড়াই একটি ম্যাগাজিনের সম্পাদক হয়ে যান তিনি। এরপর চার দশক বিভিন্ন সময় বিভিন্ন ম্যাগাজিন তিনি সম্পাদনা করেন।
বিনোদ মেহতার আত্মজীবনীর সবচেয়ে গুরুত্বপূর্ণ অংশ তার সম্পাদক জীবন। তিনি দেখেছেন, গণমাধ্যমের স্বাধীনতা সম্পাদক ও সাংবাদিকদের ওপর নির্ভর করে কম। বরং গণমাধ্যমের মালিকপক্ষের সঙ্গে সরকারের সম্পর্কের পারদের ওপর তা অনেকটাই নির্ভর করে।
বিনোদ মেহতার কর্মজীবন সাক্ষ্য দেয়, এখানকার গণমাধ্যম মালিকদের গণমাধ্যম প্রতিষ্ঠা আয়ের উৎসই নয়। বরং কেউ কেউ সাধ করে সংবাদপত্র প্রতিষ্ঠা করেন। প্রথম প্রথম খুব উৎসাহ থাকে। তারা গণমাধ্যম মালিক হিসেবে সমাজে একটা সম্মানের স্থান দখলে মরিয়া হয়ে থাকেন। যখনই সরকারবিরোধী কোনো খবর ছাপা হয় তখন সরকার মালিককে চাপ দেয়। আর, মালিক সরকারি দরপত্র ও বিভিন্ন কাজ পাওয়ার লোভে সম্পাদককে চাপ দেন সরকারবিরোধী সংবাদ না করতে। বিনোদ মেহতা এক্ষেত্রে ছিলেন আপসহীন। তিনি চাকরি ছেড়ে দিয়ে চলে আসছেন কিংবা মালিকই তাকে বরখাস্ত করে সরকারকে খুশি করত। নতুবা মালিকের অফিসে হানা দিত কেন্দ্রীয় আয়কর সংস্থা। অটল বিহারী বাজপেয়ীর আমলে এমনই এক হামলার সম্মুখীন হন বিনোদ মেহতা।
টাটাসহ আরও কিছু বড়ো প্রতিষ্ঠান রয়েছে ভারতে। তারা লাখ লাখ টাকার বিজ্ঞাপন দেয়। তাই সংবাদমাধ্যমগুলো বিজ্ঞাপন হারানোর ভয়ে এসব প্রতিষ্ঠানের অনিয়ম নিয়ে সরব হয়ে পারে না।
একজন সাংবাদিক বিপ্লবী নন। তাকে তার পরিবার-পরিজন নিয়ে বাঁচতে হয়। তাই মালিকের চাপে সরকারের অনাচারের বিরুদ্ধে, মালিকের প্রভাবশালী ইয়ারদোস্তদের বিপক্ষে লেখা সম্ভব হয়ে ওঠে না। কারণ প্রতিক্ষণ তাকে চাকরি খোয়ানোর ভয়ে থাকতে হয়। এসবের সাক্ষী লেখক নিজে। তাকে সংসারের বোঝা বইতে হতো না। তাই তিনি বাঁধা পেলে নীতির প্রশ্নে আপস করতেন না। চাকরি ছেড়ে দিতেন। কিন্তু সবার পক্ষে ইচ্ছে থাকা সত্ত্বেও চাকরি ছাড়া সম্ভব হয় না। এই বাস্তবতাকে খুব সুন্দর করে লিখেছেন বিনোদ মেহতা।
সংবাদমাধ্যমের সততার দায় সম্পাদকের সততার ওপর অনেকটাই নির্ভর করে। চার দশকের সম্পাদকজীবনের ওপর ভিত্তি করে বিনোদ মেহতা লিখেছেন,
"I appreciate that when all around corruption proliferates prospers, when your colleagues and bosses are busy deals and enriching themselves, it is difficult to remain an idealist. Especially, if the editor you report to is corrupt. Some bent editors believe they can be secretive discreet in their cheating. No one in the office will get know. Precisely the opposite is true. A corrupt editor's corruption, as it passes from mouth to mouth, only gets magnified. If he has a fishy three-acre farm, it is bound to a five-acre farm by the time the whispering is . Mercifully, a corrupt reporter or special correspon- corrupts a publication laterally. A corrupt editor meanwhile corrupts a publication top to bottom. If the chief is crooked, sooner rather than later, his dishonesty will infect the entire organization. "
আর, যে কোনো সংবাদমাধ্যমের সবচেয়ে বড়ো পুঁজি জনগণের চোখে তার বিশ্বস্ততা। আর, একবার নষ্ট হলে তা আর ফেরত পাওয়া যায় না। এ নিয়ে বিনোদ মেহতার সুভাষিত,
''Remember, for a journalist, credibility is like virginity. You can lose it only once."
আমাদের উপমহাদেশের মুক্ত গণমাধ্যমের পথের কাঁটাগুলো বুঝতে বিনোদ মেহতার আত্মস্মৃতি পড়ার বিকল্প নেই। একেবারে মজলিশি ঢঙে সহজ ভাষায় লেখা। একটানা পড়া যায়। গণমাধ্যমের রাজনৈতিক অর্থনীতি নিয়ে তত্ত্বকথা নেই ; পাবেন না বাগাড়ম্বর। অথচ মূল নির্যাসটুকু ঠিক বুঝবেন। অত্যন্ত সুখপাঠ্য স্মৃতিকথা।
গণমাধ্যমকে প্রায়শই গদি-মাধ্যম হয়ে উঠতে দেখা যায়। সংবাদকর্মীরা হন সত্যের বদলে ক্ষমতাসীনের সেবক৷ তাই সংবাদমাধ্যমের বিশ্বস্ততা আজ তলানিতে। পেশা হিসেবে সাংবাদিকতার সুনাম নেই বললেই চলে। কেন এমন হলো? দায় কী শুধু সাংবাদিকের? বিনোদ মেহতা চার দশকের বেশি সময় সাংবাদিকতা করেছেন। সম্পাদক হিসেবে বহুবার চাকরি ছেড়েছেন এবং খুইয়েছেন। "Lucknow Boy" তার অসামান্য স্মৃতিকথা৷ যেখানে ব্যক্তিজীবনের 'অপ্রিয়' সত্য লিখেছেন সাহস নিয়ে। সাংবাদিকতা অঙ্গন নিয়ে বিভিন্ন ঘটনার মাধ্যমে পেশাটির সংকট ও দায়বদ্ধতা নিয়ে খোলাখুলি লিখেছেন। অসামান্য সুন্দর বিনোদ মেহতার লেখার হাত।
বিনোদ মেহতার আদি নিবাস লখনউ নয়। পাকিস্তান থেকে দেশভাগের সময় তার পিতামহ ভারতে চলে আসেন। লেখকের পিতামহ ছিলেন বিচিত্র চরিত্র অধিকারী। রমণীমোহন, ফুলবাবু, ক্রিকেটপিয়াসী ও সাধু - এককথায় অভিনব চরিত্র ছিলেন লেখকের পিতামহ। তাকে নিয়ে অল্পকথায় অনেক কিছুই লিখেছেন বিনোদ মেহতা।
লেখকের পিতা ভারতীয় সেনাবাহিনীর ক্যাপ্টেন ছিলেন। অবসরের পর সপরিবারে লখনউতেই থিতু হন। বিনোদ মেহতা নিজেকে 'বিরাট' মেধাবী ও মনোযোগী ছাত্র হিসেবে দাবি করেননি। বরং তিনিসহ তার তিন বন্ধুর প্রধান কাজ ছিল আদি ও অকৃত্রিম লখনউকে খুঁজে বেড়ানো। যাঁরা সত্যজিৎ রায়ের 'শতরঞ্জ কি খিলাড়ি' দেখেছেন, তাঁরা সহজেই ধরতে পারবেন বিনোদ মেহতার পুরোনো লখনউকে। শামসুর রাহমানের 'স্মৃতির শহর' কিংবা ওরহান পামুকের 'ইস্তানবুল' পড়ে যেমন অনুভূতি হয়েছিল, তেমন স্মৃতিমাখা বর্ণনা পেয়েছি বিনোদ মেহতার লখনউতে।
অল্প বয়সেই পঞ্চাশের দশকের গোড়াতেই বিলেতে যান বিনোদ মেহতা। তার এক পরম বন্ধু তাকে লন্ডনে যেতে উদ্বুদ্ধ করে। এরপর বিলাতে তিনি আট বছর ছিলেন। লন্ডন বিনোদ মেহতাকে বদলে দিয়েছিল। তিনি সেখানে পুঁথিগতবিদ্যা অর্জন করেননি। তবে অভিজ্ঞতার হিসেবে যা পেয়েছিলেন তার তুলনা নেই।
লন্ডনে বিনোদ মেহতার অন্যতম কাজ ছিল প্রেম-ভালোবাসার নামে বিভিন্ন মেয়ের সঙ্গে ঘনিষ্ঠ হওয়া। এমনই একটা পর্যায়ে এক সুইস তরুণীর সঙ্গে তিনি ঘনিষ্ঠ হয় এবং মেয়েটি গর্ভবতী হয়ে পড়ে। বিনোদ মেহতা লিখেছেন, তার বয়স তখন মাত্র বাইশ। সামনে পুরো জীবন পড়ে রয়েছে। এমন অবস্থায় বিয়ে করা চলে না। মেয়েটি ছিল রোমান অর্থডক্স পরিবারের। সে সন্তানটিকে নষ্ট করেনি। বিয়ে জন্য চায় দেয়নি। কিন্তু আজীবনের জন্য শিশুটিকে নিয়ে হারিয়ে গেছে বিনোদ মেহতার জীবনপাতা থেকে। এরপর দেশে ফিরে একসময় সংসারী হয়েছেন বিনোদ মেহতা। কিন্তু তাদের সংসারে কোনো শিশু আসেনি। পরিণত বয়সে আত্মজীবনীতে এই অপ্রিয় সত্য বিনোদ মেহতা গোপন করতে পারতেন। কিন্তু করেননি। তা হয়তো অপরাধবোধের কারণে, হয়তো আত্মজীবনী লিখতে বসে সত্যনিষ্ঠার বশে। প্রকৃত কারণ একমাত্র তিনিই জানেন।
দেশে ফিরে কিছুদিন বিজ্ঞাপনসংস্থায় চাকরি করেন বিনোদ মেহতা। এরপর সাংবাদিকতায় পূর্ব কোনো অভিজ্ঞতা ও প্রাতিষ্ঠানিক পড়াশোনা ছাড়াই একটি ম্যাগাজিনের সম্পাদক হয়ে যান তিনি। এরপর চার দশক বিভিন্ন সময় বিভিন্ন ম্যাগাজিন তিনি সম্পাদনা করেন।
বিনোদ মেহতার আত্মজীবনীর সবচেয়ে গুরুত্বপূর্ণ অংশ তার সম্পাদক জীবন। তিনি দেখেছেন, গণমাধ্যমের স্বাধীনতা সম্পাদক ও সাংবাদিকদের ওপর নির্ভর করে কম। বরং গণমাধ্যমের মালিকপক্ষের সঙ্গে সরকারের সম্পর্কের পারদের ওপর তা অনেকটাই নির্ভর করে।
বিনোদ মেহতার কর্মজীবন সাক্ষ্য দেয়, এখানকার গণমাধ্যম মালিকদের গণমাধ্যম প্রতিষ্ঠা আয়ের উৎসই নয়। বরং কেউ কেউ সাধ করে সংবাদপত্র প্রতিষ্ঠা করেন। প্রথম প্রথম খুব উৎসাহ থাকে। তারা গণমাধ্যম মালিক হিসেবে সমাজে একটা সম্মানের স্থান দখলে মরিয়া হয়ে থাকেন। যখনই সরকারবিরোধী কোনো খবর ছাপা হয় তখন সরকার মালিককে চাপ দেয়। আর, মালিক সরকারি দরপত্র ও বিভিন্ন কাজ পাওয়ার লোভে সম্পাদককে চাপ দেন সরকারবিরোধী সংবাদ না করতে। বিনোদ মেহতা এক্ষেত্রে ছিলেন আপসহীন। তিনি চাকরি ছেড়ে দিয়ে চলে আসছেন কিংবা মালিকই তাকে বরখাস্ত করে সরকারকে খুশি করত। নতুবা মালিকের অফিসে হানা দিত কেন্দ্রীয় আয়কর সংস্থা। অটল বিহারী বাজপেয়ীর আমলে এমনই এক হামলার সম্মুখীন হন বিনোদ মেহতা।
টাটাসহ আরও কিছু বড়ো প্রতিষ্ঠান রয়েছে ভারতে। তারা লাখ লাখ টাকার বিজ্ঞাপন দেয়। তাই সংবাদমাধ্যমগুলো বিজ্ঞাপন হারানোর ভয়ে এসব প্রতিষ্ঠানের অনিয়ম নিয়ে সরব হয়ে পারে না।
একজন সাংবাদিক বিপ্লবী নন। তাকে তার পরিবার-পরিজন নিয়ে বাঁচতে হয়। তাই মালিকের চাপে সরকারের অনাচারের বিরুদ্ধে, মালিকের প্রভাবশালী ইয়ারদোস্তদের বিপক্ষে লেখা সম্ভব হয়ে ওঠে না। কারণ প্রতিক্ষণ তাকে চাকরি খোয়ানোর ভয়ে থাকতে হয়। এসবের সাক্ষী লেখক নিজে। তাকে সংসারের বোঝা বইতে হতো না। তাই তিনি বাঁধা পেলে নীতির প্রশ্নে আপস করতেন না। চাকরি ছেড়ে দিতেন। কিন্তু সবার পক্ষে ইচ্ছে থাকা সত্ত্বেও চাকরি ছাড়া সম্ভব হয় না। এই বাস্তবতাকে খুব সুন্দর করে লিখেছেন বিনোদ মেহতা।
সংবাদমাধ্যমের সততার দায় সম্পাদকের সততার ওপর অনেকটাই নির্ভর করে। চার দশকের সম্পাদকজীবনের ওপর ভিত্তি করে বিনোদ মেহতা লিখেছেন,
"I appreciate that when all around corruption proliferates prospers, when your colleagues and bosses are busy deals and enriching themselves, it is difficult to remain an idealist. Especially, if the editor you report to is corrupt. Some bent editors believe they can be secretive discreet in their cheating. No one in the office will get know. Precisely the opposite is true. A corrupt editor's corruption, as it passes from mouth to mouth, only gets magnified. If he has a fishy three-acre farm, it is bound to a five-acre farm by the time the whispering is . Mercifully, a corrupt reporter or special correspon- corrupts a publication laterally. A corrupt editor meanwhile corrupts a publication top to bottom. If the chief is crooked, sooner rather than later, his dishonesty will infect the entire organization. "
আর, যে কোনো সংবাদমাধ্যমের সবচেয়ে বড়ো পুঁজি জনগণের চোখে তার বিশ্বস্ততা। আর, একবার নষ্ট হলে তা আর ফেরত পাওয়া যায় না। এ নিয়ে বিনোদ মেহতার সুভাষিত,
''Remember, for a journalist, credibility is like virginity. You can lose it only once."
আমাদের উপমহাদেশের মুক্ত গণমাধ্যমের পথের কাঁটাগুলো বুঝতে বিনোদ মেহতার আত্মস্মৃতি পড়ার বিকল্প নেই। একেবারে মজলিশি ঢঙে সহজ ভাষায় লেখা। একটানা পড়া যায়। গণমাধ্যমের রাজনৈতিক অর্থনীতি নিয়ে তত্ত্বকথা নেই ; পাবেন না বাগাড়ম্বর। অথচ মূল নির্যাসটুকু ঠিক বুঝবেন। অত্যন্ত সুখপাঠ্য স্মৃতিকথা।
September 7, 2016
Vinod Mehta is a real dude !!
August 24, 2021
Picked this book up second hand, and it might be a rare one that has more than lived its monetary value for me.
It's an unsafe bet to look up to, or idolise Journalists. And Vinod Mehta makes that explicitly clear in his autobiography as well. But I can't help be drawn into his life, doing what he (and I) love and starting out (like me) in a completely unrelated field.
If you have a fair idea of editing, journalism, politics, and the history of newsprint in this country, this book is really fun. He chides his own highfalutin tribe and social circle, pokes fun at all the now-well-known people he's worked or interacted with (LM Thapar, Shashi Tharoor, Ram Guha, William Dalrymple, Sharad Pawar, Subramanian Swamy, Shobha De - endless). And of course the odd bit of gossip peppered in.
Familiar names crop up all the time, in varying lights. The book was written in 2011, when some of the now infamous journalists were still respectable. It might make us roll our eyes at Vinod Mehta praising someone professionally, who's now busy spouting RW propaganda every night. But it's also a self aware book, and that is the takeaway I will have.
There were some narrative flows going oddly, but they don't seem to matter by the end of the book. The tone is easygoing and conversational. As the author admits, 'it's my autobiography, I will do what I want'.
It's an unsafe bet to look up to, or idolise Journalists. And Vinod Mehta makes that explicitly clear in his autobiography as well. But I can't help be drawn into his life, doing what he (and I) love and starting out (like me) in a completely unrelated field.
If you have a fair idea of editing, journalism, politics, and the history of newsprint in this country, this book is really fun. He chides his own highfalutin tribe and social circle, pokes fun at all the now-well-known people he's worked or interacted with (LM Thapar, Shashi Tharoor, Ram Guha, William Dalrymple, Sharad Pawar, Subramanian Swamy, Shobha De - endless). And of course the odd bit of gossip peppered in.
Familiar names crop up all the time, in varying lights. The book was written in 2011, when some of the now infamous journalists were still respectable. It might make us roll our eyes at Vinod Mehta praising someone professionally, who's now busy spouting RW propaganda every night. But it's also a self aware book, and that is the takeaway I will have.
There were some narrative flows going oddly, but they don't seem to matter by the end of the book. The tone is easygoing and conversational. As the author admits, 'it's my autobiography, I will do what I want'.
February 21, 2025
I have a long relationship with the magazine Outlook, only next to the daily The Hindu without which - as the cliche goes, quite rightly - that no middle class educated Tamilian begin his day. I was introduced to the magazine by a friend from my school when I wanted to know updates on the recently published books (he guaranteed that the reviews in Outlook were nothing short of 'fantastic'). Also, he told me that it is the best magazine to carry the most eye-catchy photographs, which we can use in our school projects (so simple were our needs, then). This was in the year 2004, I remember.
Fast forward to 2016, I still read Outlook, not on every week but quite regularly. In my school days, I read the magazine with awe ('they use a lot of new words, you know', I remember telling my friend). I still read them, but not with the awe. If I have to name Indian magazines which I now enjoy reading much, Outlook may not be in the top five slots (I like Caravan, Fountain INk more). Yet, what hooks me to this weekly magazine is the bewitching Letters To The Editor Column. Perhaps, this is the only Indian Magazine where the letters published are not stale, dodgy, full of heavy praise, and appears like a letter written by the editor to himself. All the letters published by Outlook are irreverent, succinct, AK47 compressed in words, direct, pointed, hurting, multidimensional, and most of the times, close to the truth. Yours Truly has herself got published with seven letters in Outlook, and in none of it I praised the magazine or its editor or the reporter. Herein comes the role of Vinod Mehta, Editor of Outlook.
To me Vinod Mehta belonged to few of the dying clan of Journalists and Editors who do not toe the lines made by those in power. He respected each of his reader more than those who paid his salary. He even answered some of the letters of the readers, although not directly, but in his regular column titled 'Delhi Diary'. When he died last year, I really felt heavy at heart.
This autobiography of Vinod Mehta confirms the image I had of him, only with much greater details and a roaring humour sense. Like he always remained, the book flows with mischief, irreverence, equal-opportunity offence thrown at each and everyone, and complete honesty. His sketch of the years he spent in his hometown, Lucknow, is so vivid that any Indian reader would definitely grow a wanderlust to visit the city at least once. More, it makes one realize that the multiculturalism and Secularism is a part of all Indian towns and cities which cannot be stripped or isolated away. His days spent in Britain and how it affected his growth is effortlessly rendered with brutal honesty, and it reiterates the importance of self-education. I never know before that he edited the nude magazine Debanoir, although it didn't come so much as a shock given his natural dispositions and character. The days of Pioneer were the only pages where I felt that Mehta got little emotional but understandable given the tough days he met with the owner and the eventual unemployment (He resigned from four publications in one-decade time span).
The book grows with lively anecdotes and even lovely portrayal of the much unknown sides of politicians, writers, bureaucrats, editors, ambassadors, and almost everyone (Mehta spares no one).
He offends equally the writers William Dalrymple and Ramachandra Guha; Atal Bihari Vajpayee and Samir Jain; Amitabh Bhachan and Shobha De. In Mehta's books, any near perfect man is a myth, which if insisted to be true would propel him to search for a gun. Yet, there is one person who would remain as his Achilles heal, the Congress party leader, Sonia Gandhi. It was Outlook, perhaps the only magazine in 2014, to run two cover stories on Rahul Gandhi, Congress Party's Prime Ministerial Candidate, praising his achievements and his nature (During the general elections 2014, I came across a website which said that it enlists all of Rahul Gandhi achievements reached by him, until then. When I clicked it open, it went blank). To call Vinod Mehta as Congress Chamcha would be an understatement. The man who broke all idols revered Sonia Gandhi and his family (he even have a separate chapter for Sonia in this book too. No prize for guesses on what he would have written there).
Ideally, appraising the book for a review and for our coveted stars in Goodreads, it should fetch not more than four stars. Yet, I have added another one because of the following reasons:
1. George Orwell: For a book which ends with the word 'Editor', it begins with a quote by Orwell. And, throughout the book, Mehta talks about Orwell as if he is talking about a lover (Orwell is my favorite writers. Touche).
2. For The chapter titled 'Sweeper's Wisdom': What are those ideas Mehta offer to a budding Journo? What should a Journalist prepare himself for a fulfilling career? Is this devil's trade all worth the risk and struggle? What makes a Journo great? Can a Journo be a friend with politicans? Should they carry a resignation letter always in their pockets? Mehta has beautiful, realistic and caring answers for each of the question. He is kind enough to add this separate chapter in his autobio.
3. His dog 'Editor'
Vinod Mehta belongs to that category of Indians (the increasingly becoming a minority category) who came up to the top all by their sheer effort and by choosing a path where their heart lies. He was one of those great men who was motivated not by awards, fame, or money but by the boistorous joy and adventure a job would throw. Men like Mehta are not-so-easily-spotted, and relatively less celebrated. As a reader one can call Vinod Mehta as anything they want; a chumcha, pseudo secular, biased etc (many of which he did gladly publish in his 'Letters' columns). But, he was one of those men who kept up their charm till the end; wrote their own retirement with grace; was brave and bold enough to stand to his convictions; and most importantly never lived as a hypocrite (at least in their profession). Such humans, my dear, are rare, few and worth remembering.
Fast forward to 2016, I still read Outlook, not on every week but quite regularly. In my school days, I read the magazine with awe ('they use a lot of new words, you know', I remember telling my friend). I still read them, but not with the awe. If I have to name Indian magazines which I now enjoy reading much, Outlook may not be in the top five slots (I like Caravan, Fountain INk more). Yet, what hooks me to this weekly magazine is the bewitching Letters To The Editor Column. Perhaps, this is the only Indian Magazine where the letters published are not stale, dodgy, full of heavy praise, and appears like a letter written by the editor to himself. All the letters published by Outlook are irreverent, succinct, AK47 compressed in words, direct, pointed, hurting, multidimensional, and most of the times, close to the truth. Yours Truly has herself got published with seven letters in Outlook, and in none of it I praised the magazine or its editor or the reporter. Herein comes the role of Vinod Mehta, Editor of Outlook.
To me Vinod Mehta belonged to few of the dying clan of Journalists and Editors who do not toe the lines made by those in power. He respected each of his reader more than those who paid his salary. He even answered some of the letters of the readers, although not directly, but in his regular column titled 'Delhi Diary'. When he died last year, I really felt heavy at heart.
This autobiography of Vinod Mehta confirms the image I had of him, only with much greater details and a roaring humour sense. Like he always remained, the book flows with mischief, irreverence, equal-opportunity offence thrown at each and everyone, and complete honesty. His sketch of the years he spent in his hometown, Lucknow, is so vivid that any Indian reader would definitely grow a wanderlust to visit the city at least once. More, it makes one realize that the multiculturalism and Secularism is a part of all Indian towns and cities which cannot be stripped or isolated away. His days spent in Britain and how it affected his growth is effortlessly rendered with brutal honesty, and it reiterates the importance of self-education. I never know before that he edited the nude magazine Debanoir, although it didn't come so much as a shock given his natural dispositions and character. The days of Pioneer were the only pages where I felt that Mehta got little emotional but understandable given the tough days he met with the owner and the eventual unemployment (He resigned from four publications in one-decade time span).
The book grows with lively anecdotes and even lovely portrayal of the much unknown sides of politicians, writers, bureaucrats, editors, ambassadors, and almost everyone (Mehta spares no one).
He offends equally the writers William Dalrymple and Ramachandra Guha; Atal Bihari Vajpayee and Samir Jain; Amitabh Bhachan and Shobha De. In Mehta's books, any near perfect man is a myth, which if insisted to be true would propel him to search for a gun. Yet, there is one person who would remain as his Achilles heal, the Congress party leader, Sonia Gandhi. It was Outlook, perhaps the only magazine in 2014, to run two cover stories on Rahul Gandhi, Congress Party's Prime Ministerial Candidate, praising his achievements and his nature (During the general elections 2014, I came across a website which said that it enlists all of Rahul Gandhi achievements reached by him, until then. When I clicked it open, it went blank). To call Vinod Mehta as Congress Chamcha would be an understatement. The man who broke all idols revered Sonia Gandhi and his family (he even have a separate chapter for Sonia in this book too. No prize for guesses on what he would have written there).
Ideally, appraising the book for a review and for our coveted stars in Goodreads, it should fetch not more than four stars. Yet, I have added another one because of the following reasons:
1. George Orwell: For a book which ends with the word 'Editor', it begins with a quote by Orwell. And, throughout the book, Mehta talks about Orwell as if he is talking about a lover (Orwell is my favorite writers. Touche).
2. For The chapter titled 'Sweeper's Wisdom': What are those ideas Mehta offer to a budding Journo? What should a Journalist prepare himself for a fulfilling career? Is this devil's trade all worth the risk and struggle? What makes a Journo great? Can a Journo be a friend with politicans? Should they carry a resignation letter always in their pockets? Mehta has beautiful, realistic and caring answers for each of the question. He is kind enough to add this separate chapter in his autobio.
3. His dog 'Editor'
Vinod Mehta belongs to that category of Indians (the increasingly becoming a minority category) who came up to the top all by their sheer effort and by choosing a path where their heart lies. He was one of those great men who was motivated not by awards, fame, or money but by the boistorous joy and adventure a job would throw. Men like Mehta are not-so-easily-spotted, and relatively less celebrated. As a reader one can call Vinod Mehta as anything they want; a chumcha, pseudo secular, biased etc (many of which he did gladly publish in his 'Letters' columns). But, he was one of those men who kept up their charm till the end; wrote their own retirement with grace; was brave and bold enough to stand to his convictions; and most importantly never lived as a hypocrite (at least in their profession). Such humans, my dear, are rare, few and worth remembering.
February 6, 2012
A very readable book. I picked it up after reading many a reviews. I have not really been an Outlook reader and so was not very aware of Vinod Mehta and his style of journalism. This book got me hooked from page 1. The good thing about the book is that it is a very easy read. it's not full of jargon and Vinod Mehta doesn't come across as self righteous and self appreciative, at least not overtly.
The initial years he recounts about Lucknow, family and his student days are quiet interesting and fun to read. once he starts working, i think the book skews more towards opening many a secrets about people he has interacted with professionally. Then it starts sounding like a gossip column, nonetheless quiet informative. halfway through i felt, it was not a memoir anymore as there was nothing much personal other than professional events and professional encounters that he narrates. He moves from Mumbai to Delhi from His Debonair days to Pioneer and Outlook. He seems more human or maybe on second thoughts, he is a very good journalist who knows exactly how to get people to accept his point of view without hating him.
While the book has lots of anecdotes to offer, the one thing that kept gnawing me, particularly when i was reading his time with Outlook days was his anti BJP and pro congress stand. While he justifies it by saying that even though people call him Sonia sucker, as a journalist you can't hate every politician. That's in order to stay sane. Hence Sonia Gandhi and Congress are his obvious choice. Where i think its a biased layout is when all his anecdotes and stories throughout his Outlook and Delhi experience are pretty much about the NDA government. Considering he is a dinosaur in the Journalism business and has seen decades of politically upheaval, he chooses to comment only on the the few initial years of the Nehru government and straight out to the NDA government. That to me is a little short cited for a memoir of a journalist. Also the entire account about the Income Tax raids on Raheja, his proprietor for Outlook is a bit too good to be true. Raheja being an owner of such a big business empire seems to be pure as honey and seems to have absolutely no illegal income. Which to me seems a little far fetched for a business house that size.
so my final verdict by the time i finished the book was take this man with a pinch of salt. He obviously does not tell all the truth and chooses which one to. But whatever little he does tell is worth reading as it does give you some perspective about people and events.
The initial years he recounts about Lucknow, family and his student days are quiet interesting and fun to read. once he starts working, i think the book skews more towards opening many a secrets about people he has interacted with professionally. Then it starts sounding like a gossip column, nonetheless quiet informative. halfway through i felt, it was not a memoir anymore as there was nothing much personal other than professional events and professional encounters that he narrates. He moves from Mumbai to Delhi from His Debonair days to Pioneer and Outlook. He seems more human or maybe on second thoughts, he is a very good journalist who knows exactly how to get people to accept his point of view without hating him.
While the book has lots of anecdotes to offer, the one thing that kept gnawing me, particularly when i was reading his time with Outlook days was his anti BJP and pro congress stand. While he justifies it by saying that even though people call him Sonia sucker, as a journalist you can't hate every politician. That's in order to stay sane. Hence Sonia Gandhi and Congress are his obvious choice. Where i think its a biased layout is when all his anecdotes and stories throughout his Outlook and Delhi experience are pretty much about the NDA government. Considering he is a dinosaur in the Journalism business and has seen decades of politically upheaval, he chooses to comment only on the the few initial years of the Nehru government and straight out to the NDA government. That to me is a little short cited for a memoir of a journalist. Also the entire account about the Income Tax raids on Raheja, his proprietor for Outlook is a bit too good to be true. Raheja being an owner of such a big business empire seems to be pure as honey and seems to have absolutely no illegal income. Which to me seems a little far fetched for a business house that size.
so my final verdict by the time i finished the book was take this man with a pinch of salt. He obviously does not tell all the truth and chooses which one to. But whatever little he does tell is worth reading as it does give you some perspective about people and events.
January 22, 2019
Building a newspaper or magazine up from scratch is a tedious job. Apparently, people don't relish such a prospect. Matters became very complicated in the post-liberalization era when India's publishing industry opened up to serious money coming from abroad. It is nothing short of a miracle that a single man was able to create not one, but four publications by the dint of hard work and the intuition on which way the wind is blowing. On account of the establishment of journals such as Indian Post, Independent, Pioneer and Outlook, Vinod Mehta is sometimes hailed as the ultimate launch man of Indian publishing. His experience in taking these illustrious publications from the drawing board to the street stall is unrivaled. Vinod Mehta was an Indian journalist, editor and political commentator. He is the author of several books and this one is an autobiography of his eventful life as an editor in journals of national repute.
Quite unusual for a man who pioneered mainstream media, Mehta began his life as editor of the men's magazine Debonair. He always found something that should be removed to attract attention whether in the magazine or its portrayed models. The periodical which had begun with male seminude pictures had closed down after just six months. Mehta infused new life into it by sporting serious articles interspersed with half-clad models. Known for his boldness in exposure with the pen – no pun intended – he lives up to his name by mentioning a shocking episode during the Emergency. The dreaded Information and Broadcasting minister V C Shukla wanted a meeting with him along with the next issue’s centre spread pictures in design stage. At the end of the interview the minister appropriated the most revealing photograph for himself (p.89)
The author's USP is his fearlessness in writing about the idiosyncrasies of political leaders and business tycoons. He had a tenuous relationship with the latter on account of them being the proprietors of the publishing houses. He was not averse to take risks. When Sunday observer was first published in 1981, it was the first time in India that a publication came out only on Sundays which combined the good features of a newspaper and a magazine. Mehta’s most controversial episode might have been the naming of the Maharashtra leader Y B Chavan as the CIA mole in Indira Gandhi's cabinet in the 1970s. The mayhem let loose by the revelation forced the management of The Independent to eject Mehta and it published an apology. However, the author discloses in this memoir that after further consultations with Seymour Hersh, he has come to know reliably that Morarji Desai was the mole who worked for the CIA by accepting $20,000 per year through his son Kanti Desai. The unrepentant declaration that it was not Chavan but Desai is galling and sheds light at the casual disregard of the journalist in making and marring the careers of respectable people. This is evidenced by an incident when the author was working for the Pioneer. Its proprietor, Lalit Mohan Thapar, was a friend of the politician Sharad Pawar and the author had no compunction to plant a story projecting Pawar as a possible candidate to be the next prime minister. In the same magazine itself, Mehta suspended a provoking interview with the army chief S F Rodriguez from publishing in which the veteran soldier had labeled the entire political class as bandicoots.
It seems that Vinod Mehta had a strong inclination to side with the Congress Party and he feels no shame in flaunting it. In fact, he advises novices to the profession that it is just about okay. In his inimitable style, he professes that neutrality of journalists is a pompous myth. The Nira Radia tapes, which find mention in the book, narrates the unholy nexus between politicians, journalists and wheeler dealers. Barkha Dath and Vir Sanghvi were the journalists who got caught in the tape. Mehta describes about his attacks against Vajpayee as prime minister and Narendra Modi as the chief minister of Gujarat. When the frivolous tirades became unbearable, Vajpayee ordered an income tax raid on the proprietor and the attacks dramatically stopped as if at the flick of a switch.
Being a person from Lucknow, memories of his dear hometown lend the book its title. The author shares a glimpse of life in that city immediately after independence. The upper crest had a carefree life in which humour occupied a central place in the scheme of things. Those who didn't laugh and make others laugh were considered dangerous people. But the old world charm of Oudh’s social life was soon folding back against the flow of migrants coming from Pakistan. The Lucknow aristocracy was in clear retreat, selling their heritage as the refugees gobbled up businesses with their superior ability to persevere and adapt to changing conditions. However Metha realizes that shedding tears for the gun-flogging and chandelier-hawking rajas and nawabs was like shedding tears for the extinction of dinosaurs. However, all was not well even by the author’s narrative. The Hindu-Muslim divide crept even into the sphere of sports such as Table Tennis. In the 50s and 60s Lucknow, the table tennis scene was highly communalized. Clubs were organized on the basis of religion. The Bengali club, Firangi Mahal club, Sanyal club and others were fierce rivals mainly due to communal hostility.
The author’s mastery over the language is impeccable and should be a source of envy to any editor. This book is a treasure trove of delectable idioms, words and phrases. It is a must-read for all aspiring journalists and language professionals. Mehta was an ardent representative of India’s elite, and so his professional support to Arundhati Roy and the Maoists who protested eviction of tribals for the commencement of mining operations is a bit labored. This Anglophone journalist whose telephone number was in the contact list of the most powerful people in the country and who feeds Italian cheese to his pet dog wants the readers to be convinced of his earnest desire to protect the rights of the tribals. The author has been candid – perhaps a bit more so – in portraying even the most intimate moments of his life. On the negative side, he seems to get carried away by praise as seen in the verbatim reproduction of the praise heaped by peers on the success of his publishing ventures.
The book is highly recommended.
Quite unusual for a man who pioneered mainstream media, Mehta began his life as editor of the men's magazine Debonair. He always found something that should be removed to attract attention whether in the magazine or its portrayed models. The periodical which had begun with male seminude pictures had closed down after just six months. Mehta infused new life into it by sporting serious articles interspersed with half-clad models. Known for his boldness in exposure with the pen – no pun intended – he lives up to his name by mentioning a shocking episode during the Emergency. The dreaded Information and Broadcasting minister V C Shukla wanted a meeting with him along with the next issue’s centre spread pictures in design stage. At the end of the interview the minister appropriated the most revealing photograph for himself (p.89)
The author's USP is his fearlessness in writing about the idiosyncrasies of political leaders and business tycoons. He had a tenuous relationship with the latter on account of them being the proprietors of the publishing houses. He was not averse to take risks. When Sunday observer was first published in 1981, it was the first time in India that a publication came out only on Sundays which combined the good features of a newspaper and a magazine. Mehta’s most controversial episode might have been the naming of the Maharashtra leader Y B Chavan as the CIA mole in Indira Gandhi's cabinet in the 1970s. The mayhem let loose by the revelation forced the management of The Independent to eject Mehta and it published an apology. However, the author discloses in this memoir that after further consultations with Seymour Hersh, he has come to know reliably that Morarji Desai was the mole who worked for the CIA by accepting $20,000 per year through his son Kanti Desai. The unrepentant declaration that it was not Chavan but Desai is galling and sheds light at the casual disregard of the journalist in making and marring the careers of respectable people. This is evidenced by an incident when the author was working for the Pioneer. Its proprietor, Lalit Mohan Thapar, was a friend of the politician Sharad Pawar and the author had no compunction to plant a story projecting Pawar as a possible candidate to be the next prime minister. In the same magazine itself, Mehta suspended a provoking interview with the army chief S F Rodriguez from publishing in which the veteran soldier had labeled the entire political class as bandicoots.
It seems that Vinod Mehta had a strong inclination to side with the Congress Party and he feels no shame in flaunting it. In fact, he advises novices to the profession that it is just about okay. In his inimitable style, he professes that neutrality of journalists is a pompous myth. The Nira Radia tapes, which find mention in the book, narrates the unholy nexus between politicians, journalists and wheeler dealers. Barkha Dath and Vir Sanghvi were the journalists who got caught in the tape. Mehta describes about his attacks against Vajpayee as prime minister and Narendra Modi as the chief minister of Gujarat. When the frivolous tirades became unbearable, Vajpayee ordered an income tax raid on the proprietor and the attacks dramatically stopped as if at the flick of a switch.
Being a person from Lucknow, memories of his dear hometown lend the book its title. The author shares a glimpse of life in that city immediately after independence. The upper crest had a carefree life in which humour occupied a central place in the scheme of things. Those who didn't laugh and make others laugh were considered dangerous people. But the old world charm of Oudh’s social life was soon folding back against the flow of migrants coming from Pakistan. The Lucknow aristocracy was in clear retreat, selling their heritage as the refugees gobbled up businesses with their superior ability to persevere and adapt to changing conditions. However Metha realizes that shedding tears for the gun-flogging and chandelier-hawking rajas and nawabs was like shedding tears for the extinction of dinosaurs. However, all was not well even by the author’s narrative. The Hindu-Muslim divide crept even into the sphere of sports such as Table Tennis. In the 50s and 60s Lucknow, the table tennis scene was highly communalized. Clubs were organized on the basis of religion. The Bengali club, Firangi Mahal club, Sanyal club and others were fierce rivals mainly due to communal hostility.
The author’s mastery over the language is impeccable and should be a source of envy to any editor. This book is a treasure trove of delectable idioms, words and phrases. It is a must-read for all aspiring journalists and language professionals. Mehta was an ardent representative of India’s elite, and so his professional support to Arundhati Roy and the Maoists who protested eviction of tribals for the commencement of mining operations is a bit labored. This Anglophone journalist whose telephone number was in the contact list of the most powerful people in the country and who feeds Italian cheese to his pet dog wants the readers to be convinced of his earnest desire to protect the rights of the tribals. The author has been candid – perhaps a bit more so – in portraying even the most intimate moments of his life. On the negative side, he seems to get carried away by praise as seen in the verbatim reproduction of the praise heaped by peers on the success of his publishing ventures.
The book is highly recommended.
February 9, 2020
ಇದು ವಿನೋದ್ ಮೆಹ್ತಾರವರ ಜೀವನ ಚರಿತ್ರೆ ಮಾತ್ರವಲ್ಲದೇ, ಒಬ್ಬ ಸಂಪಾದಕನಾಗಿ ಪತ್ರಿಕೋದ್ಯಮದ ಒಳನೋಟ, ಪತ್ರಿಕೋದ್ಯಮದ ಶಕ್ತಿ ಅಷ್ಟೇ ಅಲ್ಲದೇ ಅದರ ರಾಜಕೀಯ ಮುಖಗಳನ್ನೂ ಕೂಡ ಅನಾವರಣಗೊಳಿಸುತ್ತದೆ.
ಅನುವಾದ ಅತ್ಭುತವಾಗಿದ್ದು, ಸುಗತ ಶ್ರೀನಿವಾಸರಾಜು ಅವರ ಒತ್ತಾಸೆಯಿಂದ ಬಂದ ಈ ಪುಸ್ತಕ ಸದ್ಯದ ರಾಜಕೀಯ, ಸಾಮಾಜಿಕ ಪರಿಸ್ಥಿತಿಯಲ್ಲಿ ಕನ್ನಡಿಗರಿಗೆ ತೀರಾ ಅನಿವಾರ್ಯವಾಗಿದೆ.
ಅನುವಾದ ಅತ್ಭುತವಾಗಿದ್ದು, ಸುಗತ ಶ್ರೀನಿವಾಸರಾಜು ಅವರ ಒತ್ತಾಸೆಯಿಂದ ಬಂದ ಈ ಪುಸ್ತಕ ಸದ್ಯದ ರಾಜಕೀಯ, ಸಾಮಾಜಿಕ ಪರಿಸ್ಥಿತಿಯಲ್ಲಿ ಕನ್ನಡಿಗರಿಗೆ ತೀರಾ ಅನಿವಾರ್ಯವಾಗಿದೆ.
September 28, 2021
If you are an outlook reader, you know Vinod. Just like the last page he writes, he brings wit and humor to his life as a journalist and in general. Juicy details about many political big heads are sprinkled throughout the book. Nice read
August 7, 2023
Lucknow Boy is a memoir by Vinod Mehta, one of India's most respected journalists and editors. The book chronicles Mehta's life from his childhood in Lucknow to his rise to prominence as the editor of several major magazines, including Debonair, Sunday Observer, and Outlook.
Mehta's writing is sharp, witty, and insightful. He is not afraid to share his opinions, even if they are controversial. The book is full of fascinating anecdotes about Mehta's encounters with some of the most powerful and influential people in India, including Indira Gandhi, Rajiv Gandhi, and Sonia Gandhi. One of the most interesting aspects of the book is Mehta's candid discussion of his own personal flaws. He is not afraid to admit to his mistakes, and he does not shy away from self-deprecating humor. This makes the book even more engaging and relatable.
I have to say that I found it very informational considering I had not been born yet to have witnessed the major events that Mehta discusses in his memoir. I found it more interesting than a simple google reading of the events because his memoir provides perspective, irrespective of its biases.
Overall, Lucknow Boy is a well-written and entertaining memoir that provides a fascinating glimpse into the life of one of India's most prominent journalists. I highly recommend it to anyone interested in Indian politics, post independent history, media, or simply a good read.
December 19, 2011
Spoiler Alert..!!!
I must confess that I was fairly ignorant of Vinod Mehta's lofty reputation and formidable resume when I started reading Lucknow Boy: A memoir. The last two books that I had read before this were both celebrated works of 20th century literature:- Primo Levi’s gut-wrenching account of his ordeal at Auschwitz in ‘If this is a man’ and Mario Llosa’s masterful evocation of Dominican life under dictator Rafael “The Goat” Trujillo’s iron grip in ‘The Feast of the Goat’. It was time to find myself something ‘light’ to read for a change. I had read glowing tributes to Mehta’s new memoir strewn across cyberspace and had decided to check it out. A cursory reading of the synopsis on the inner front cover of the book settled it; this was going to be my next read. The clincher was the 5th line; he was editor of Debonair back in the 60s!
The first two chapters are devoted to his halcyon bachelor days in Lucknow (and later London) chasing women and creating mischief. It’s a charming phase written breezily but it betrays no clues to his eventual turn towards his final calling- Journalism (Maybe the progression from chasing women to editing debonair could be called a logical leap but that’s about it!). It does however afford glimpses into the philosophy of the man. He talks of how his ‘pseudo-secular’ leanings where shaped by the remarkably secular Lucknow and the knowledge he gained while in London. Describing Lucknow of the 60s he says ‘We asked some fundamental questions with respect to an individual. Was he a bore or was he funny? Could he spin a decent yarn and keep us entertained?’ This is the underlying motif of his memoir and his life in general. The attempt is to humor us and keep us entertained. An attempt that succeeds spectacularly as the story unfolds.
Mehta realizes very early on that the book could not be structured as a run-of-the-mill autobiography if he wants to hold readers’ attention for long. So you would not find the rambling ancestral history or sermons on personal morals or philosophy that is the staple of many a memoir. Instead you get a ring-side view of the India story through the 60s to the present complete with remarkable anecdotes about the tumultuous events and eccentric personalities that have shaped it. Who better to tell it than the man who has been chasing that story his entire lifetime? The fact that he had a personal equation with many of the characters on his pages (from Salman Rushdie to Shobha De to Sonia Gandhi) gives his writing further credibility. For someone like me, who was not around when most of these events took place, it made for riveting reading. More than anything else, the book provides a gossipy, almost voyeuristic, peek into the heady world of politicians, journalists and other newsmakers. And it is done with the same humility, candour and irreverence that have been the hallmark of Mehta’s editorial career. True to style, he spares no detail and euphemizes no criticism when talking about the high and the mighty. Thus, you get not-so-flattering portraits of stalwarts from Arun Shourie to Dileep Padgaonkar to even AB Vajpayee. And he is equally unflinching in turning the spotlight on himself. He thus takes the blame for the infamous ‘CIA mole in Indira Gandhi’s cabinet’ story that eventually cost him his job at the Independent. (That Morarji Desai was the actual mole was indeed a shocking revelation for me although it was apparently an open secret among the older generation).
The latter half chronicles his Outlook days and here I was on more familiar ground having been witness to many of the episodes described from the cricket match-fixing scandal to the Radia tapes controversy and the 2G scam. Consequently, I was not always in agreement with some of his views here. My much-too-critical eye found an ever-so-slight ideological leaning towards the Congress and a soft spot for Sonia Gandhi in particular. Not that he is beholden to balance and fairness here. After all, this is his memoir and not a news report.
He ends with some advice for budding journalists (it jarred slightly when compared to the remarkably non-judgmental narrative tone of the rest of the book) and a lovely chapter about the influential people in his life (which includes his dog, Editor!). The book’s biggest strength is its irreverence and tinges of humor throughout. Only once, when talking of the daughter that he had to abandon in London, do you see a hint of melancholy. Here is hoping that that daughter reads this memoir and finds Vinod Mehta. The book deserves it. More importantly, the man deserves it.
I must confess that I was fairly ignorant of Vinod Mehta's lofty reputation and formidable resume when I started reading Lucknow Boy: A memoir. The last two books that I had read before this were both celebrated works of 20th century literature:- Primo Levi’s gut-wrenching account of his ordeal at Auschwitz in ‘If this is a man’ and Mario Llosa’s masterful evocation of Dominican life under dictator Rafael “The Goat” Trujillo’s iron grip in ‘The Feast of the Goat’. It was time to find myself something ‘light’ to read for a change. I had read glowing tributes to Mehta’s new memoir strewn across cyberspace and had decided to check it out. A cursory reading of the synopsis on the inner front cover of the book settled it; this was going to be my next read. The clincher was the 5th line; he was editor of Debonair back in the 60s!
The first two chapters are devoted to his halcyon bachelor days in Lucknow (and later London) chasing women and creating mischief. It’s a charming phase written breezily but it betrays no clues to his eventual turn towards his final calling- Journalism (Maybe the progression from chasing women to editing debonair could be called a logical leap but that’s about it!). It does however afford glimpses into the philosophy of the man. He talks of how his ‘pseudo-secular’ leanings where shaped by the remarkably secular Lucknow and the knowledge he gained while in London. Describing Lucknow of the 60s he says ‘We asked some fundamental questions with respect to an individual. Was he a bore or was he funny? Could he spin a decent yarn and keep us entertained?’ This is the underlying motif of his memoir and his life in general. The attempt is to humor us and keep us entertained. An attempt that succeeds spectacularly as the story unfolds.
Mehta realizes very early on that the book could not be structured as a run-of-the-mill autobiography if he wants to hold readers’ attention for long. So you would not find the rambling ancestral history or sermons on personal morals or philosophy that is the staple of many a memoir. Instead you get a ring-side view of the India story through the 60s to the present complete with remarkable anecdotes about the tumultuous events and eccentric personalities that have shaped it. Who better to tell it than the man who has been chasing that story his entire lifetime? The fact that he had a personal equation with many of the characters on his pages (from Salman Rushdie to Shobha De to Sonia Gandhi) gives his writing further credibility. For someone like me, who was not around when most of these events took place, it made for riveting reading. More than anything else, the book provides a gossipy, almost voyeuristic, peek into the heady world of politicians, journalists and other newsmakers. And it is done with the same humility, candour and irreverence that have been the hallmark of Mehta’s editorial career. True to style, he spares no detail and euphemizes no criticism when talking about the high and the mighty. Thus, you get not-so-flattering portraits of stalwarts from Arun Shourie to Dileep Padgaonkar to even AB Vajpayee. And he is equally unflinching in turning the spotlight on himself. He thus takes the blame for the infamous ‘CIA mole in Indira Gandhi’s cabinet’ story that eventually cost him his job at the Independent. (That Morarji Desai was the actual mole was indeed a shocking revelation for me although it was apparently an open secret among the older generation).
The latter half chronicles his Outlook days and here I was on more familiar ground having been witness to many of the episodes described from the cricket match-fixing scandal to the Radia tapes controversy and the 2G scam. Consequently, I was not always in agreement with some of his views here. My much-too-critical eye found an ever-so-slight ideological leaning towards the Congress and a soft spot for Sonia Gandhi in particular. Not that he is beholden to balance and fairness here. After all, this is his memoir and not a news report.
He ends with some advice for budding journalists (it jarred slightly when compared to the remarkably non-judgmental narrative tone of the rest of the book) and a lovely chapter about the influential people in his life (which includes his dog, Editor!). The book’s biggest strength is its irreverence and tinges of humor throughout. Only once, when talking of the daughter that he had to abandon in London, do you see a hint of melancholy. Here is hoping that that daughter reads this memoir and finds Vinod Mehta. The book deserves it. More importantly, the man deserves it.
July 28, 2012
I'm always reluctant to buy autobiography mostly because of being overly timeline oriented, and being self indulging(well that is what a autobiography is supposed to be) but most often they go over the line, but this one was like reading a fiction on the run...My last post on "The museum of innocence" Pamuk's romance with the city reminded me about this book where Mehta describes his fond memories about the people of Lucknow while he was young.. Outlook is the only magazine (i'm not too proud about it) where I pay attention to the editorial note even though I'm not a loyal reader of it..So it isn't surprising when I readily picked his memoir isn't...
As a kid Mehta was an average kid with all his limitations (though good in sports) in terms of thoughts and education (third class in B.A)brought up in a modest middle class society during 60's Lucknow with high value.He had wonderful gang of friends in school who stuck for life..According to him life in Lucknow had lot of shades to it for instance “In Lucknow at that time, you could be a liar, crook, bigot, miser, ugly, lower caste - that was okay. What you couldn't be was a bore. When we wanted to damn somebody, call him the worst possible name, we would say, ‘bore hai’"... It was London that let him shape his life with his various assorted odd jobs and friendship with men and women later to be more in number.. Self taught and hardworking, reading in depth about authors and political developments in Britain laid a strong foundation to his rich experiences and vantage that we get to see today...His confession of fathering a child and refusing to stay by his girlfriend when she refused for abortion made me wish that someday he get to meet his daughter...First part of the book with his childhood and life abroad is very interesting and fun..
Getting back to India, his efforts of self publishing a book (which he is not proud of ) "Bombay a private view" , then a biography about Sanjay Gandhi The Sanjay story,and Meenakumari became controversial...His first job was as an editor in debonair (Indian playboy version) where he managed to get published some sensible articles in spite of the magazine that it carried , where he had to write under different pseudonym still maintaining the center page of the magazine of nude girls.. But during emergency he was asked to make it decent and this is how he described the model in the center spread "The breasts were covered with an ugly, dense dupatta. The Emergency had taken its toll on our naked women"..
But as he moves on to become the most sacked editor from The Sunday Observer-Independent-Indian post-Pioneer and finally to The outlook (where he currently serves as an adviser after he resigned from the the post of editor for 17 years)the book misses the personal element (may be he was completely into work)becoming largely professional with lots of insight about the well known name which is thoroughly entertaining...His statement of being a gossip monger aptly fits in..Throughout his career he has witnessed many famous rows and hosted some like that between Willaim Dalrymple and Ramachandra Guha most famously Between V.S Naipaul (Mehta's good friend) and Salman Rushidi are amusingly good read..The best part are the work behind the scene of making and working with some of the sensational scoop that stirred the entire nation from cricket match fixing to revelations of Niira Radia's tape, 2G spectrum, Moraji Desai's other side, , Narasimha Rao's writing skill certainly makes the reader smile..There are not just success stories but also some blunders like Y.B Chawan and exit poll result predictions being always wrong etc etc...
The Chapter "Sweepers Wisdom" is a rich read where he offers his piece of mind to the young Journalist..
Throughout the book I felt an anti BJP spirit running all wide and strong and a slight lean towards Congress, especially Sonia Gandhi,he tries to justify it with the statement that a journalist cannot hate every politician..His sense of humour is all through the book even through the candid moments when he gets sacked and his rift with the proprietor helping the book stay tuned into life...His naming his pet dog editor is one among the situation where he makes self mockery with deep meaning...
All in all the book has every element to keep you reading and had it not been for this memoir I wouldn't have known the outstanding life of Vinod Mehta...
As a kid Mehta was an average kid with all his limitations (though good in sports) in terms of thoughts and education (third class in B.A)brought up in a modest middle class society during 60's Lucknow with high value.He had wonderful gang of friends in school who stuck for life..According to him life in Lucknow had lot of shades to it for instance “In Lucknow at that time, you could be a liar, crook, bigot, miser, ugly, lower caste - that was okay. What you couldn't be was a bore. When we wanted to damn somebody, call him the worst possible name, we would say, ‘bore hai’"... It was London that let him shape his life with his various assorted odd jobs and friendship with men and women later to be more in number.. Self taught and hardworking, reading in depth about authors and political developments in Britain laid a strong foundation to his rich experiences and vantage that we get to see today...His confession of fathering a child and refusing to stay by his girlfriend when she refused for abortion made me wish that someday he get to meet his daughter...First part of the book with his childhood and life abroad is very interesting and fun..
Getting back to India, his efforts of self publishing a book (which he is not proud of ) "Bombay a private view" , then a biography about Sanjay Gandhi The Sanjay story,and Meenakumari became controversial...His first job was as an editor in debonair (Indian playboy version) where he managed to get published some sensible articles in spite of the magazine that it carried , where he had to write under different pseudonym still maintaining the center page of the magazine of nude girls.. But during emergency he was asked to make it decent and this is how he described the model in the center spread "The breasts were covered with an ugly, dense dupatta. The Emergency had taken its toll on our naked women"..
But as he moves on to become the most sacked editor from The Sunday Observer-Independent-Indian post-Pioneer and finally to The outlook (where he currently serves as an adviser after he resigned from the the post of editor for 17 years)the book misses the personal element (may be he was completely into work)becoming largely professional with lots of insight about the well known name which is thoroughly entertaining...His statement of being a gossip monger aptly fits in..Throughout his career he has witnessed many famous rows and hosted some like that between Willaim Dalrymple and Ramachandra Guha most famously Between V.S Naipaul (Mehta's good friend) and Salman Rushidi are amusingly good read..The best part are the work behind the scene of making and working with some of the sensational scoop that stirred the entire nation from cricket match fixing to revelations of Niira Radia's tape, 2G spectrum, Moraji Desai's other side, , Narasimha Rao's writing skill certainly makes the reader smile..There are not just success stories but also some blunders like Y.B Chawan and exit poll result predictions being always wrong etc etc...
The Chapter "Sweepers Wisdom" is a rich read where he offers his piece of mind to the young Journalist..
Throughout the book I felt an anti BJP spirit running all wide and strong and a slight lean towards Congress, especially Sonia Gandhi,he tries to justify it with the statement that a journalist cannot hate every politician..His sense of humour is all through the book even through the candid moments when he gets sacked and his rift with the proprietor helping the book stay tuned into life...His naming his pet dog editor is one among the situation where he makes self mockery with deep meaning...
All in all the book has every element to keep you reading and had it not been for this memoir I wouldn't have known the outstanding life of Vinod Mehta...
December 4, 2021
I will be honest, before I read the book, all I thought of Vinod Mehta was confined to that talking head in the habit of launching drunk diatribes on debate panels of cacophonous news channels. Safe to say, my perception is now more refined and I have developed minor respect for the man. Lucknow Boy is easily one of the better biographies written by an Indian. Contrary to the usual embellishments and last word-itis that this genre falls into, the work exhibits rare honesty and self awareness.
Mehta starts with his days of growing up in Lucknow, mostly spent skirt chasing and in other usual teenage shenanigans. (Unlike other stories from the era, partition is not a big image in his memory, which is a relief. I am a little tired of Indian writers and artists of the independence era basing their whole existence and body of work on post partition trauma. While I understand it, I am just overdosed on it.) He seems to have acquired his sense of humour and flair for punchy story telling here. This is followed by an extended 8 year sojourn in England where he gets a chance to form his world view and fathers a daughter. Although not much comes out of his plans of acquiring an engineering degree. It is a treat to read how he discovered that his heroes had clay feet and shockingly, nobody was perfect. His short descriptions of Maugham and Orwell are highly nuanced. The loss of innocence is narrated marvellously and in a contrast from the title, the Lucknow boy all but disappears by chapter two.
The middle of the story takes place across Mumbai, Lucknow and Delhi with Mehta's rise as the irreverent and swashbuckling editor. From editing smut, he goes on to build from scratch: a daily, a weekly and a news magazine over less than 5 years. Throw in a couple of book projects as well. No mean accomplishment for a lad from lucknow with a surname of no great renown. The start up days read so smooth, makes me wonder what talents like him could have accomplished in a more open economy. Along the way are peppered several hilarious encounters with poets, politicians, his many bosses and employees, several of whom we know today in varying contexts, and random Lucknowi and North England riff raff. Mehta's disregard for money matters assumes significance today when media is completely transactional in nature. However the overhang of advertisers pulling out over editorial decisions is a regular theme. It is no wonder social media killed traditional media, the control over distribution is paramount in an ad driven business. Many of the biggest news items in the last two decades were broken by Outlook, Mehta's magazine, and the book deals generously with their backstories. The wheeling dealings are given ample space. Although Mehta has a clear political leaning, he owns up to it and never pretends to be monkey balancing. It does take some contrarian courage to oppose Pokharan and call Maoists 'Gandhians with Guns' in your publication, I suppose. The penultimate chapter is an exercise in education for budding journalists and writers. I could not get much out of it as a reader. He probably intended on passing on some of his wisdom to his tribe, but it's mostly lost on casuals like me. The concluding chapter is made up of short portraits of some people who the author thought deserved more print space than he could allocate in the main narration. Fair to say, he does not pull his punches.
Few Indian journalists today have the breadth of experience that Vinod Mehta had in post independence India, and it shows. The book is unputdownable. He must have died a relaxed man, having known that no reader would ever think of him as something the Lucknow Boy considered the ultimate insult - a bore. Farewell Mr. Mehta!
Mehta starts with his days of growing up in Lucknow, mostly spent skirt chasing and in other usual teenage shenanigans. (Unlike other stories from the era, partition is not a big image in his memory, which is a relief. I am a little tired of Indian writers and artists of the independence era basing their whole existence and body of work on post partition trauma. While I understand it, I am just overdosed on it.) He seems to have acquired his sense of humour and flair for punchy story telling here. This is followed by an extended 8 year sojourn in England where he gets a chance to form his world view and fathers a daughter. Although not much comes out of his plans of acquiring an engineering degree. It is a treat to read how he discovered that his heroes had clay feet and shockingly, nobody was perfect. His short descriptions of Maugham and Orwell are highly nuanced. The loss of innocence is narrated marvellously and in a contrast from the title, the Lucknow boy all but disappears by chapter two.
The middle of the story takes place across Mumbai, Lucknow and Delhi with Mehta's rise as the irreverent and swashbuckling editor. From editing smut, he goes on to build from scratch: a daily, a weekly and a news magazine over less than 5 years. Throw in a couple of book projects as well. No mean accomplishment for a lad from lucknow with a surname of no great renown. The start up days read so smooth, makes me wonder what talents like him could have accomplished in a more open economy. Along the way are peppered several hilarious encounters with poets, politicians, his many bosses and employees, several of whom we know today in varying contexts, and random Lucknowi and North England riff raff. Mehta's disregard for money matters assumes significance today when media is completely transactional in nature. However the overhang of advertisers pulling out over editorial decisions is a regular theme. It is no wonder social media killed traditional media, the control over distribution is paramount in an ad driven business. Many of the biggest news items in the last two decades were broken by Outlook, Mehta's magazine, and the book deals generously with their backstories. The wheeling dealings are given ample space. Although Mehta has a clear political leaning, he owns up to it and never pretends to be monkey balancing. It does take some contrarian courage to oppose Pokharan and call Maoists 'Gandhians with Guns' in your publication, I suppose. The penultimate chapter is an exercise in education for budding journalists and writers. I could not get much out of it as a reader. He probably intended on passing on some of his wisdom to his tribe, but it's mostly lost on casuals like me. The concluding chapter is made up of short portraits of some people who the author thought deserved more print space than he could allocate in the main narration. Fair to say, he does not pull his punches.
Few Indian journalists today have the breadth of experience that Vinod Mehta had in post independence India, and it shows. The book is unputdownable. He must have died a relaxed man, having known that no reader would ever think of him as something the Lucknow Boy considered the ultimate insult - a bore. Farewell Mr. Mehta!
March 7, 2015
Here is the story of “the inadequately educated Lucknow Boy with no formal training in a mass communication institute” taking the might of a well established fortnightly ‘India Today’ and succeeding. There are enough incidents in the life of Vinod Mehta which would have formed the part of the script for a successful Hindi film. The first 150 pages of the autobiography of Vinod Mehta are interesting and fast paced. Vinod Mehta is able to hold the attention of his reader when he writes about his early life in Lucknow and London and his stint as the editor of Debonair, Sunday Observer, Pioneer and the advent of Outlook. Paradoxically publicity for the first issue of Outlook is given by those fascists. (When these right wing fanatics will learn and stop giving free publicity by their idiotic acts of protesting anything found offensive to them only the Hindu Gods will know). And for the uninitiated , some basic lessons about Marx, secularism, etc. are thrown in. Alas disappointment awaits the reader(if he happens to be a regular reader of Outlook or is well versed in contemporary affairs)as the latter part of the book meanders into the period of his editorship of ‘Outlook’. There is nothing new or not known except the occasional gossips. It is as if he wants to justify the editorial stand of Outlook. The self confessed pseudo secularist dwells much on the fall and fall of BJP(remember this book was published in 2011) and rushes through the period of mega scams of the Congress . To be fair to Vinod Mehta, he is conscious of the limitations of his profession and admits that the so called neutrality of the journalists is a myth. And there is a closing chapter wherein he gives sermons to the budding journalists. When he mentions about the goalposts laid by George Orwell for writers one wonders whether they are applied for some of the articles which appear in Outlook. His adulation for Goddess Sonia Gandhi, who sacrificed power to become more powerful without being responsible, is narrated in the last part of book. One knows such blind devotion is well rewarded by conferment of Padma Shri. He does not hide his dislike for BJP leaders particularly Modi. One of the most celebrated journalists of the country fails to bring any value addition or capture the interest of the reader in the latter part of the book. It is also naive on his part to claim that to make a permanent enemy of Madam Sonia one must have a history, or even a single instance of betraying or badmouthing her husband. Mehta conveniently forgets that the great grand oldman of Tamil Nadu politics, who had a history of badmouthing not only Gandhi(Original) but Nehru Ganhdis, was allowed to get ATM ministries in the Government for his partymen only because of his friendship with Madam. Mr. Mehta as a journalist check your facts before writing - Ever heard of Justice Jain Commission findings?
October 18, 2012
Vinod Mehta hasn't written his memoir to tell you what a great person Vinod Mehta is. And therein lies his greatness. Told with amazing candour, startling simplicity and incredible wit, Mr Mehta takes you on a marvellous zeppelin-ride through his life - and you stare wide-eyed at his hugely eventful journey, right from his formative years at Debonair (which we used to hide within the pages of our world atlas during our own salad days)to his present prestigious role at Outlook.
Lucknow Boy, peopled with men and women who've left indelible imprints (whether beneficial or detrimental is a separate argument altogether)in the time-sands of India makes for a riveting read. I finished it in just two sittings, thanks to the fact that it reads more like an unputdownable piece of engaging fiction than a prosaic autobiography.
Mr Mehta talks of an eclectic mix of people without sounding malicious even about those he doesn't fancy too much. This is responsible writing at its best; it gives us an overview of our system, its politics, businesses, perils, pressures etc, even as he delineates his own moral highs and emotional lows without sounding cynical.
Circumspect, balanced, neutral - and tremendously soul-elevating, if you prefer a shorter take on it.
Don't miss this one. If there is just one non-fiction book you read this year, it ought to be Lucknow Boy.
Lucknow Boy, peopled with men and women who've left indelible imprints (whether beneficial or detrimental is a separate argument altogether)in the time-sands of India makes for a riveting read. I finished it in just two sittings, thanks to the fact that it reads more like an unputdownable piece of engaging fiction than a prosaic autobiography.
Mr Mehta talks of an eclectic mix of people without sounding malicious even about those he doesn't fancy too much. This is responsible writing at its best; it gives us an overview of our system, its politics, businesses, perils, pressures etc, even as he delineates his own moral highs and emotional lows without sounding cynical.
Circumspect, balanced, neutral - and tremendously soul-elevating, if you prefer a shorter take on it.
Don't miss this one. If there is just one non-fiction book you read this year, it ought to be Lucknow Boy.
December 13, 2015
Lucknow boy is a short and informative take on India's political landscape for the past 40 odd years. It mainly captures the kind of news that makes it into news magazines, considering it is the autobiography of a newspaper and newsmagazine editor. The personal life of Vinod Mehta is also quite interesting, particularly his time in Lucknow and London. Overall the book is engaging enough to be not left halfway. There are many tidbits regarding some famous personalities that I wasn't aware of, and that get lost in magazine pages and gossip columns after these people fade away from the limelight. It also captures the struggles that an editor faces going against the powers that be, and the delicate balance that is to be maintained between ideals of journalism and survival of your print.
August 10, 2012
Nice book throws light into the glitz and almost opaque life of Indian journalists.Mr.Mehta's life as described is nothing sort of that of a roller coaster ride. Do read it for the gossip involved ..;)..very very juicy ..indeed
November 23, 2012
Shouldn't have ended so soon. lot of voids in between. still perhaps one of the best autobiographies out there, mainly due to richness in content and the delicate humor and arrogance of the dude !
May 9, 2016
Irreverent, insightful and immensely readable. Strongly recommended.
April 25, 2019
3.5/5 In the past couple of years, I have started given ratings in fractions (0.5). But, for this book, I was not able to make up my mind about the official rating of goodreads. Should it be 3* as it contained a lot of gossip or should it be 4* as the memoirs of a sensible editor who built a few newspapers/magazines and did good reporting ? But since I am in no mood to pick up another one by this author, I rated it 3*.
This book came into my notice because a journalist friend reviewed it in an FB group. A few days later, Vinod Mehta was found drinking while on a TV news debate and I ignored it. But later, admiration expressed for him by reporters who worked under him made me pick it up.
This book reminded me of Salman Rushdie's Midnight Children (the half I managed to read :). It was irreverent, gossipy in tone yet you felt there was a method to the madness. His childhood and career were well-detailed and was surprised to know the no. of newspapers and magazines he started from scratch and then had to leave because of his integrity. And he was not the filmy, naive, call it a spade-a-spade guy. This was despite the fact that he was tactical.
While some scoops which were done by his publications, particularly Outlook are in detail, I wished the Radia Tapes affair would have been covered in more detail. Also, a no. of major events were missing. Also absent is any political theory or ideology or commentary on some of the major events that happened in his times.
Also, while I had read of it in a no. of books/articles, reading about the massive income tax raids on Outlook for criticising Vajpayee's PMO reminded me that there are no saints in politics.
A good read, but perhaps those associated with the profession will enjoy it much better.
This book came into my notice because a journalist friend reviewed it in an FB group. A few days later, Vinod Mehta was found drinking while on a TV news debate and I ignored it. But later, admiration expressed for him by reporters who worked under him made me pick it up.
This book reminded me of Salman Rushdie's Midnight Children (the half I managed to read :). It was irreverent, gossipy in tone yet you felt there was a method to the madness. His childhood and career were well-detailed and was surprised to know the no. of newspapers and magazines he started from scratch and then had to leave because of his integrity. And he was not the filmy, naive, call it a spade-a-spade guy. This was despite the fact that he was tactical.
While some scoops which were done by his publications, particularly Outlook are in detail, I wished the Radia Tapes affair would have been covered in more detail. Also, a no. of major events were missing. Also absent is any political theory or ideology or commentary on some of the major events that happened in his times.
Also, while I had read of it in a no. of books/articles, reading about the massive income tax raids on Outlook for criticising Vajpayee's PMO reminded me that there are no saints in politics.
A good read, but perhaps those associated with the profession will enjoy it much better.
October 28, 2017
Lucknow Boy by Vinod Mehta...
Personally, I’m fiction lover and seldom touch a memoir even if it is written by Dostoevsky, let alone by someone whose only contribution towards literature has been to write biographies of two of the most eminent personas of 70s India. But after following him on endless debates during and post Anna “movement”, I was intrigued to learn India of old from a media person’s perspective.
And I was not disappointed! In fact, I was in for a treat. It’s a rarity nowadays to find someone living a public life and be this open to criticism and even highlighting that criticism with aplomb and utmost modesty is not heard of.
Those benign shenanigans during school, those sporting Eve teasing during college and the promiscuity during his U.K. sojourn is mesmerising.
You can feel his editorial penmanship when he recounts his interactions with some of the most prominent personalities of India and world and his lucidity is unparalleled.
Die hard pseudo secular yet one of the major contributor of some of the biggest scams during UPA I & II regime shows his honesty towards the profession he just stumbled upon.
According to journalist fraternity, he is considered as one of the most quotable editor India has ever produced. Even Arnab Goswami called him an Editor he never had in his touching eulogy.
It would be blasphemous to put this memoir next to My Experiments With Truth but I would certainly put this along The Glass Castle.
A must read if not for aforementioned details then for those subtle anecdotes and those seething remarks he received at times deservedly from his antagonists and the way he presented them with candour.
Personally, I’m fiction lover and seldom touch a memoir even if it is written by Dostoevsky, let alone by someone whose only contribution towards literature has been to write biographies of two of the most eminent personas of 70s India. But after following him on endless debates during and post Anna “movement”, I was intrigued to learn India of old from a media person’s perspective.
And I was not disappointed! In fact, I was in for a treat. It’s a rarity nowadays to find someone living a public life and be this open to criticism and even highlighting that criticism with aplomb and utmost modesty is not heard of.
Those benign shenanigans during school, those sporting Eve teasing during college and the promiscuity during his U.K. sojourn is mesmerising.
You can feel his editorial penmanship when he recounts his interactions with some of the most prominent personalities of India and world and his lucidity is unparalleled.
Die hard pseudo secular yet one of the major contributor of some of the biggest scams during UPA I & II regime shows his honesty towards the profession he just stumbled upon.
According to journalist fraternity, he is considered as one of the most quotable editor India has ever produced. Even Arnab Goswami called him an Editor he never had in his touching eulogy.
It would be blasphemous to put this memoir next to My Experiments With Truth but I would certainly put this along The Glass Castle.
A must read if not for aforementioned details then for those subtle anecdotes and those seething remarks he received at times deservedly from his antagonists and the way he presented them with candour.
December 19, 2024
The story of a journalist is always alluring to me for my dad was one. I was lucky to be an in_house witness to the pros and cons of journalism. I was exposed to books and magazines especially of varied genre from a very tender age.I used to tag along with my dad to be lost in the world of writing right from my class 4 hols. The editor was kind enough to let me stay in the library. There used to be stack of magazines in Tamil and English, I was allowed access to a particular stack and banned from the other. So true to my forefathers I went for the forbidden.... and that's where I came up close with a magazine called Debonair and it's then editor Vinod Mehta.... Imagine my surprise when this book came my way. Vinod Mehta came a long way after Debonair..His Outlook magazine was another fav of mine. In this memoir of Vinod Mehta..he takes the reader through many astounding events in his 4 decades (plus) tryst with journalism. All political scandals with scoops laid barren through out his book. He divulges without any remorse the number of times he is chucked out of office because of political intervention or is it because of his journalist instinct to call a spade a spade...even when actually it was a hammer, is for the reader to guess. If in a memoir u r looking for his life to be exposed in length u will be disappointed. Like a true journalist he exposes very lil of himself but strips the elite with all pomp and show. If you have missed reading newspaper for the past few decades and r not abreast with the political scenario, Vinod Mehta has given you a brief and sometimes detailed summary...I.e., if u r upto reading 305 pages.
July 4, 2021
Lucknow Boy by Vinod Mehta.
I don't know why I presumed Vinod Mehta was a Parsee gentleman, probably due to his manner of speech, which was slow and pronounced. I was pleasantly surprised to learn of his Punjabi roots from Pakistan. Apart from these glimpses, Vinod Mehta makes no references to his personal life, we don't even know how many siblings he has. And I think that is what makes his memoir so endearing. I'll come to that a little later.
Calling himself a boy is such an Indian way of addressing oneself. It doesn't matter how old the man gets, but when he speaks about himself, he always becomes a boy! His irreverential style of writing is self effacing, providing mirth and laughter. And so it's best, he lets the focus remain on himself!
Vinod Mehta writes with honesty and a certain mischief, he appears fair and holds no grudges, having been greatly influenced by stalwarts like Nikhil Chakravarty and Kushwant Singh. His journey as a journalist has seen highs and lows, ups and down, yet he seems to have come out unscathed largely due to his own personal charisma. He believes, "no manual or school can teach you how to write. There are no benchmarks or ten simple steps you can cram."
I thoroughly enjoyed reading the book. That is one of the reasons I love reading books which are neither classics nor award winners. Such books leave you with a happy feeling, the wit and the wisdom are from ordinary individuals yet so extraordinary. In spite of being in a crowd, they can hold on to their own.
I don't know why I presumed Vinod Mehta was a Parsee gentleman, probably due to his manner of speech, which was slow and pronounced. I was pleasantly surprised to learn of his Punjabi roots from Pakistan. Apart from these glimpses, Vinod Mehta makes no references to his personal life, we don't even know how many siblings he has. And I think that is what makes his memoir so endearing. I'll come to that a little later.
Calling himself a boy is such an Indian way of addressing oneself. It doesn't matter how old the man gets, but when he speaks about himself, he always becomes a boy! His irreverential style of writing is self effacing, providing mirth and laughter. And so it's best, he lets the focus remain on himself!
Vinod Mehta writes with honesty and a certain mischief, he appears fair and holds no grudges, having been greatly influenced by stalwarts like Nikhil Chakravarty and Kushwant Singh. His journey as a journalist has seen highs and lows, ups and down, yet he seems to have come out unscathed largely due to his own personal charisma. He believes, "no manual or school can teach you how to write. There are no benchmarks or ten simple steps you can cram."
I thoroughly enjoyed reading the book. That is one of the reasons I love reading books which are neither classics nor award winners. Such books leave you with a happy feeling, the wit and the wisdom are from ordinary individuals yet so extraordinary. In spite of being in a crowd, they can hold on to their own.
January 20, 2019
Vinod Mehta was the Editor of Outlook in his very last assignment. His memoir describes his life in Indian Journalism and Politics over a span of 30 to 40 years. You learn what it was like to run a Newspaper or a Business in India of the 70s and 80s. Fascinating to read that Vijaypat Singhania of Raymond Group put it in writing to Vinod Mehta that he should not write anything about Rajiv Gandhi, Amitabh Bachchan, Satish Sharma, Lalit Suri, Dhirubhai Ambani, V.P. Singh, Murli Deora, Sharad Pawar in 'Indian Post' because these individuals could have seriously jeopardized their business interests. Vinod Mehta agrees that he admires Vijaypat for sharing the appalling reality of India in the 1980s instead of the usual bullshit. Then at some point, D H Ambani tried to buy a Newspaper and the journalists working for that paper put it out that they would not 'go' with the newspaper. It is another matter that in contemporary India, his older son owns a plethora of News Channels. Have times changed for better?
I found his own life story a bit tedious at the beginning but otherwise this is an interesting read. It also provides another source with which to cross reference other memoirs/books by journalists, biographers, business leaders etc. and learn something about the Indian politicians.
I found his own life story a bit tedious at the beginning but otherwise this is an interesting read. It also provides another source with which to cross reference other memoirs/books by journalists, biographers, business leaders etc. and learn something about the Indian politicians.
September 6, 2019
Lucknow boy, an unassuming title and a little known book. But a cursory read through one of the pages was enough to hook me up and pick it off the shelf.
It is a walk through the history of India and of the last 50 years, but wait, the writing and personal anecdotes are what lift it off. Vinod's writing is sprightly and fun and punctured with anecdotal tales that have the small town charm. The story is made relatable by his wit and more so by his downright humility and openness. His stories of Lucknow and a witty narrative of other characters keeps the smile going as you flick through the pages. The portrayal is real and of a dreary wide eyed boy, always on the hunt for girls, all too relatable.
The story evolves with his stint in UK and then his journalistic journey back in India and packs some seriousness. But his climb through the corporate rung and his many open failures are a good read and a useful learning. In the end, it becomes more sombre with expose's of many politicians and the hand in glove relationship between journalists and politicians. Overall, a spectacular read, not to be missed.
It is a walk through the history of India and of the last 50 years, but wait, the writing and personal anecdotes are what lift it off. Vinod's writing is sprightly and fun and punctured with anecdotal tales that have the small town charm. The story is made relatable by his wit and more so by his downright humility and openness. His stories of Lucknow and a witty narrative of other characters keeps the smile going as you flick through the pages. The portrayal is real and of a dreary wide eyed boy, always on the hunt for girls, all too relatable.
The story evolves with his stint in UK and then his journalistic journey back in India and packs some seriousness. But his climb through the corporate rung and his many open failures are a good read and a useful learning. In the end, it becomes more sombre with expose's of many politicians and the hand in glove relationship between journalists and politicians. Overall, a spectacular read, not to be missed.
December 31, 2025
The memoir reads like a long, leisurely walk through old Lucknow which is pleasant at times, mildly amusing in parts, but occasionally making you wonder when exactly we’ll reach the destination.
Vinod Mehta has a sharp eye and a sharper wit and when he’s on song, the anecdotes sparkle especially the bits about old world manners, elite circles and journalistic gossip. You can almost smell the kebabs and hear the polite sarcasm. But the problem is… the walk never really turns into a run. Or even a brisk stroll.
The memoir feels more like a series of loosely connected conversations at a drawing room mehfil interesting faces, clever lines, but not enough emotional depth or momentum to keep you fully hooked. At times, it feels self-indulgent, and at others, strangely distant, as if the author himself is observing life from a comfortable armchair.
Not bad, not brilliant. A decent pick if you enjoy nostalgia and name dropping, but don’t expect fireworks. Hence, a polite 2.5 stars—very Lucknowi, actually.
Vinod Mehta has a sharp eye and a sharper wit and when he’s on song, the anecdotes sparkle especially the bits about old world manners, elite circles and journalistic gossip. You can almost smell the kebabs and hear the polite sarcasm. But the problem is… the walk never really turns into a run. Or even a brisk stroll.
The memoir feels more like a series of loosely connected conversations at a drawing room mehfil interesting faces, clever lines, but not enough emotional depth or momentum to keep you fully hooked. At times, it feels self-indulgent, and at others, strangely distant, as if the author himself is observing life from a comfortable armchair.
Not bad, not brilliant. A decent pick if you enjoy nostalgia and name dropping, but don’t expect fireworks. Hence, a polite 2.5 stars—very Lucknowi, actually.
March 24, 2019
The starting chapter details Lucknow after independence (1947). Being from Lucknow myself it was quiet hard to imagine how much the culture has changed. Due to this book, I finally understood why my father, despite my protests, still doesn't ask for payment receipts at shops.
Anyways, the stories were to the point, written in an engaging manner. It has a lot of gossip about politicians, writers, and journalists. I lost interest in between due to too many details about politics and journalists (something which I don't keep track of). It may be useful to aspiring journalists and budding writers. In one of the chapters he lists some of the hard learned lessons in the field of journalism. This is quiet interesting imho as the author's views were not shaped by any formal journalism training.
Overall it was a nice read.
Anyways, the stories were to the point, written in an engaging manner. It has a lot of gossip about politicians, writers, and journalists. I lost interest in between due to too many details about politics and journalists (something which I don't keep track of). It may be useful to aspiring journalists and budding writers. In one of the chapters he lists some of the hard learned lessons in the field of journalism. This is quiet interesting imho as the author's views were not shaped by any formal journalism training.
Overall it was a nice read.
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