Good Morning, Kurukshetra

May 20, 2004, 12.00am IST

The role of a newspaper, it is commonly believed, is to inform. But that is only a part of what a modern newspaper is supposed to do. A greater part of its mandate is to act in the manner of an ancient sage or rishi, to help the reader in the process of contemplation, meditation and, ultimately, spiritual elevation.



The title of this article captures the spirit of this nuanced understanding. The term, Kurukshetra, has for long symbolised something more than a geographical location. It is a metaphor for the ceaseless tumult and conflict of the material world. In the modern context, it signifies the mode of being of the social, political and economic world. The newspaper presumably has to reflect this. The editors, however, must not delude themselves into believing that they’re aiming for, or arriving at, some objective representation of reality. Because reality is simply the name we give to our most cherished ways of looking at the world.

A newspaper, consciously or otherwise, does not reproduce reality. It puts a particular spin on it. Call it stylisation, if you like. Just as a Bollywood film stylises poverty, love, and relationships, so does a newspaper. In the choice and resentation of news, it inevitably reconstructs the larger world for the reader. So, let no one argue that the business of a newspaper is to tell it like it is — to peddle mundane reality. It follows that the opinion page has to assume a role that is similar to what Lord Krishna took on prior to the battle at Kurukshetra. That is, to help the reader, the modern-day Arjuna, achieve a sense of equanimity and detachment from the here and now.

Think of it. Looking at the newspaper in the morning ought to be a form of emotional catharsis — whether in the form of tragic empathy or joyful celebration. Not for nothing did our rishis create an elaborate matrix of festivals to break the ebb and flow of linear, secular time. In terms of functionality, a newspaper must play an identical role. By carefully selecting aspects of everyday reality — and heightening its experiential content/value — it ought to raise the consciousness of the reader and empowers him spiritually.


A newspaper, then, has to move away from a problem-posing to a problem-dissolving attitude. A lot of the so-called problems arise because of familiar habits of thought. If you are enabled to see them differently, they will simply disappear. In that sense, the process is similar to the movement from ignorance or avidya to spiritual enlightenment. That’s why a newspaper must endeavour to present perspectives that transcend our obsessive human-centric view of life.


There are myriad ways of doing this — for instance, by focusing on trends and processes rather than on events and personalities. This way, what appears extraordinary or “abnormal” at first glance — deaths in violence or conflict — can be placed in a proper perspective. By telling the reader, for instance, that casualties in war are only a very minor fraction of all the deaths that occur in the world everyday, it can inculcate dispassionate, long-term view. Similarly, one could take away the edge of nationalist passion by reminding the reader that the nation-state is merely a contingent historical construct that is destined to fade/ grow/mutate but change anyway. Also, that there are other spiritual and social allegiances which transcend the narrow emotional and political boundaries of the ‘nationality’ identity.


This is how this newspaper has consistently addressed the question of diaspora or foreign origins, telling the reader that nationalism in this day and age is a liquid phenomenon, with no clearly defined contours.