a long lost column i wrote for dna once...i happen to like it :)

This column is addressed to all readers who think I am nothing but a frivolous, self-obsessed writer whose only love in the world is clothes. This is about my journey from a newspaper to a fashion glossy back to a newspaper. I think you will see a new side of me now.

It started when I landed a job at a fashion magazine after working for five years on the desk of a national daily. Maybe it was the way I was dressed, or the editor just liked my over-the-top confidence, but here I was, a special correspondent with a magazine. I couldn't have been happier. I was where I had always wanted to be. I was finally realising the importance of the Fendi bag. It was an epiphany. No more Quark, no more boring trend stories… no more newspapers.

But they are right when they say - you can take a person out of a newspaper, but not the newspaper out of the person. Who says that? Well, that's what our story is about. So I attended my first edit meeting with uncontained excitement. I got a celebrity interview and a shoot, and when the results came, they complimented me on my styling. But that was only because I was yet to show my newspaper colours.

At the next edit meet, I suggested a feature on the slum tours of Mumbai and ironically, the Abraham and Thakore-wearing lot applauded. "Yes, yes, you must do it". I was warmed by their concern and set out right away. Accompanied by two Britons who were more interested in figuring out where Shilpa Shetty lived, the Bollywoodish guide, Krishna Pujari, took us on a magical tour of Dharavi. This was the place where the poor carved their living by running one of the world's largest small scale industry hubs. I was touched, I was shaken and I was inspired by their courage and entrepreneurial skills. Yes, I wrote a great article, until the copy editor looked at it. She read the first line in disdain, "From an airplane window, the slums of Mumbai look like miles and miles of grey, filthy landscape".

Filthy, she circled, "Darling, when you call it filthy, it doesn't really make me want to go there." She read the next line. 'Potholes', she circled, "Sweetheart, this is really not inviting. Could you make it more…" she snapped her fingers, "snappy and magazine like…"

I was at a loss, but I reworked, and reworked, and reworked. After I gave in my fifth draft, the copy editor looked at me sweetly and shook her head, "No darling, you are not getting the feel. It has to be…" she snapped her fingers again, "More snappy. More hip."

And then it came. "It's not a newspaper, you know. It's a magazine. Do you get that?" No I didn't. After all, it wasn't a report of Haseena Jethmalani's latest party, nor was it an interview with Kareena Kapoor. It was a tour of Dharavi, and that too a reality tour of Dharavi. "Make me want to visit. Make it exciting. Make it glamorous," she smiled. And I quit.

But I took their advice, and I am back at a newspaper. I found out that Quark or no Quark, at a newspaper, a Fendi bag and reality can exist side by side. If any magazine editors were hurt during the process of writing this article, I apologise. I still owe them the fact that I am a well-dressed albeit a bad newspaper writer. Ciao.