In the spring of 2008, Ameet Dhakal, Editor-in-Chief of Republica, and I sat down for yet another cup of barley tea to discuss the birth of a new publication, the creation of a new team and the launch of a product. Without having established the paper, we were going ahead of ourselves and discussing The Week as it were to be.[break]
We agreed Kathmandu needed a weekend reading, something light and fun that would not insult the intellectual minds – nothing glossy and gossipy. While I pushed for a weekend magazine and he insisted on a regular broadsheet, we started playing with the prototype.
Seven months and much drama later Republica was launched. April 24, 2009 was a Friday and it would be confusing to publish The Week on the very first day – it was postponed for the next week.
Thursday the following week we were still toying with the name. It must have been about 8:30 PM that I suggested naming it The Week – just hours before designing of the first issue was finalized. We received the nod of approval by the top two editors and got to printing the very first edition.
With a group of talented and passionate writers - whom I described to my family as the mahan gaurabshali team - we discussed and debated what we would slot into this new sort of Nepali journalism in the English language. The weekend edition idea was not the first in Nepal, of course. Grand old Rising Nepal and The Kathmandu Post had earlier done those. The Week, I like to believe, simply tweaked it up a notch.
We focused on art and culture. We wanted the weekend edition to be an easy and interesting reading; so we looked for stories that mattered. We wrote about people – not the ones who discussed at dinner parties and often found gracing the cover of magazines, but real people with real stories. At “Unreported Lives” and “Youngblood” we did not want to be patronizing, but simply to publish stories the country could relate to, especially since more often than not theirs were more inspiring than the aspiring celebutantes.
We were struck by the talented photographers who swarmed the Valley, both local and foreign, and welcomed visual storytelling. The Viewfinder, The Week’s center spread remains a main attraction for those who appreciate the eyes behind the lens – but also for amateur and professional photographers to showcase their work.
To claim the pressure of producing 12 of 16 pages every Friday on top of the daily responsibilities was overwhelming is an understatement. And yet it seemed the team performed exceptionally well, every week, under such pressure. The fresh-out-of-college writers grabbed stories that spoke to them, read up on the topic before interviews and were never afraid to throw ideas with teammates. The Team is what makes The Week, and if rival papers wanted to carve a niche for themselves right next to where we had, we were only happy to step up our game.
BEYOND THE WEEK
Print media, at the heart of which is the newspaper, is showing a surprising progress in Nepal. Whereas the industry is folding worldwide, it is mushrooming inside the Valley and across the country. Yet we all know quality ought not to be compromised for quantity.
Fleeting readership and hebetudinous advertisers in this tumultuous economy is the biggest challenge today for media worldwide, but in Nepal where media is traditional at best, and at worst refuses to update on through fresh ideas, it is further problematic.
It is hard enough to get through the daily grind fighting for “bites and quotes” journalism from uninspiring leadership. It’s not every publication where the EiC will stand by a weekend edition like ours did at The Week. Not all print media have such leadership who support, encourage and when needed, confront issues head on. And even with disagreements in values, objectives, preferences and angles, the EiC at Republica was the one who entertained new ideas and respected the differences in opinion.
Nepali media could do with more EiCs who permit writers to write what they see, rather than what the media house or the public wants to see. There is something to be said of the editor who intervened when the administration decided to trade mineral water for dhunge dharako pani so as to save Rs.30,000 a month. When there are so many bad examples of leadership, it’s ripe for change as well as a challenging bend to mould.
And yet all is not to be shouldered by the editors, but by the journalists and public too. It goes without saying, Nepali journalism ironically lacks journalism ethics – unburdened objectivity from the publisher and journalistic integrity from the writer. And yet none of this is new for we all know the rules by heart. It’s just difficult to not get jaded and to aspire for something higher than new ideas are smashed before they are fully uttered. If the public refuses to see beyond the surface and a journalist gets tagged for being unprofessional, it’s tempting to resort to what is known to be applauded – where is the pursuit of truth in that? Not just at Republica but across the board.
A TECHNICAL MALFUNCTION
Homepages of newspapers in Nepal are full of errors and technical glitches. The design is often scattered and repulsive and the website is not user-friendly. In times when so much of the story can be said in infographics and multimedia, Nepali news portals have hardly considered this as a viable means of communicating complex ideas. As yet an underdeveloped country, we have a long way to go for the internet-based medium to be used as a form of true journalism. White newspapers worldwide are flung into the “adapt or die” policy and hence, forced to giant digital leaps. For now Nepal can doze; newspapers are still preferred to iphone apps and kindle downloads, but sooner or later the consumers will awake.
Internet has made everyone a publisher. It can aggregate and create content without any financial transaction. Information today hungers to be free, but the production still wants cash. With enough bloggers and citizen journalists scattered from Kathmandu to Nepalgunj and further west the internet as an information and communication medium can probably almost do as much if not more than can traditional media.
Publishing a daily is about more than splashing white paper with blank ink and then distributing that stack as information through the timely and costly delivery van and cycle boys. This is all the more evident as the internet changes how we communicate. Maybe we are too small an industry, a mere blip, to be bothered with the change, but the day will come when Craiglist-Nepal will offer the space service as the classified section – the biggest moneymaking machine in the vernaculars – for free. A news aggregator website that gains popularity and credibility can very well take all the profit on the investment and struggles made by the news sites. In which case, how is Nepali media bracing itself? The tide is coming in, let’s not forget to swim.
MADE ON THE MARGINS
It would be an injustice to denounce Nepali media without appreciating their role in shaping Nepal’s evolving socio-political bearing. Pre- and post-1990 the Nepali media played a vital role in promoting freedom from autocracy and thereby, the freedom of formulating one’s own opinion.
The Nepal Republic Media is single-handedly responsible for raising salaries of the underpaid but overworked print journalism fraternity. But, at a more profound level it still needs a lot to achieve the kind of progress it hopes to inspire. The media industry as a whole lacks fresh ideas in everything from content generation to news creation and production. As Nepal evolves but the politics stagnates, media should and without delay, evaluate what they want to be – changing or maintaining the status quo. My vote is for what Tyler Cowen terms “creative destruction,” where old ideas must perish as new ones develop.
The newsroom still remains one of the most exclusive spaces for it has failed to grasp the rhetoric of inclusion - whether it is in boardrooms, editorial newsrooms or in marketing. Take the very last minute change in model for promotional campaign where the complaint was that the one selected did not look “Aryan” enough – fitting perhaps for a newsroom that has barely any “Mongolian” faces. But admirable? Hardly.
Should we then be surprised that not any female Madhesi journalists work in a national vernacular at all? Almost all bureau chiefs in all media companies across the spectrum are male hill-elites of either Bahun or Chhetri origin. There are no female bureau chiefs, and not a single women editor (except for in supposed “female domains” like lifestyle magazines, tabloid newspapers or women’s publications). Women are usually handed the beats on “woman-y” issues; fashion, lifestyle, entertainment and, of course, women and children. Few are encouraged to contribute to business or health, fewer yet to politics.
Whether it’s a question of supply or demand, it is the twenty-first century and if the country has not realized this, Kathmandu ought to – I am still waiting to see a female editor at the helm of a daily vernacular – not because of tokenism, but because she is capable and has been recognized as such.
WRONG POLITICKING IN THE RIGHT PLACES
To say the Nepali media is highly politicized is to lean on euphemism. Reporters covering the “serious” beats function as nothing more than party apparatchik. This especially holds true in daily and weekly vernaculars. Just this week, television show producer Deepak Bhattarai blogged about the Press Union election and how the Nepali Congress party decided to enforce the appointment of leadership on an independent journalist umbrella organization. A sad truth is that many party cadres cover their own party as a political beat in mainstream media, which completely defies the purpose of objective and unbiased reporting as it ought to be, because reporting for the party, in their interest is nothing short of publishing party propaganda.
It’s easy to deride Nepali journalists for their inane credulity and chauvinistic prejudice. Many a time, they are what they are stereotyped to be. If you have Rishi Dhamala as Nepali media’s poster boy, stereotyping would be nothing less than a loathing paradox.
Martin Kaplan, professor of journalism at the University of Southern California in the United States, has said straight news has now fallen into a bizarre notion that accuracy, truth and objectivity is being substituted for ‘balance’. “That may be because of a general postmodern malaise in society at large in which the notion of a truth doesn’t have the same reputation it used to,” he said. “As a consequence, straight journalists both in print and in broadcast can be played like a piccolo by people who know how to exploit that weakness.” Journalists across the world, and with no exception to Nepal, are exploited for the weaknesses by those in power.
It would be the sole responsibility of editorial leadership to keep the biasness, balance and sympathy at check at all times. As Bill Keller, the editor in chief of New York Times said about sympathies in today’s clash of values, “And yet we cannot let those sympathies transform us into propagandists, even for a system we respect.”
Thankfully, Republica has not been a propagandist, even for the system it respects, as yet.
Bhandari is the former editor of The Week and founding editorial member of Republica newspaper.
MY TAKE
BY BIBEK BHANDARI
We report. We write. We often raise issues and tell stories. But most of the time, the stories behind our stories and the production process never get told. So here I take this opportunity to take you backstage—if I may say so—of The Week.
So where does it start? For our readers, the story begins from the lead, and if it’s good enough to captivate their attention span, they might read it to the last word. But for us, there’s never a beginning or an ending to a story – it’s an ongoing process that starts from the story pitch.
Our ideas are shared in weekly meetings or on our online forum where we drop and discuss stories. Once approved by the man in the hot seat, our editor, we begin on a desperate mission to meet our dear friend or foe, also known as the deadline.
‘Deadline’ is ‘the word’ in the newsroom. If you don’t meet your deadline, well, you’re dead, literally. A series of unmet deadlines could be the death of your journalism career. And I can tell you, I have literally fallen off a mountain to race time.
I once had to file a story at 5,500m. To meet the deadline, my photographer friend and I not only ran down from Everest Base Camp to Pheriche but we had to fight the cold, shortage of power, slow Internet connections, and even the hotel manager in order to use two computers to send the story and photos in time.
And Thursdays are all about making it to the deadline and starting the production of The Week. Thursday nights are chaotic for the bureau: all the stories need to be edited, photos coordinated, and then there’s work on the design and layout. But we never make it seem hectic. The music is forever on. Someone or the other always has food and each of us has the ability to motivate ourselves until we call it a day.
Amid all the deadlines, stories, and the countless hours I spend at what I call my home away from home, The Week cubicle, I’m proud of my work and happy that I’ve been living a dream that I thought would take 10 more years to materialize. I have my school newspaper, the Daily Skiff, pinned in my cubicle which is a reflection of the journey I’ve made in the last four years. It reminds me of the dreams and the destinations I had visualized as a student, and I’m happy I’ve accomplished my dreams: interning at Rolling Stone India and now working as a real world correspondent. I’m indebted to The Week for giving me the platform to be living my dream.
And so thanks to Subel Bhandari, Arpan Shrestha, Shreya Thapa, Sumina Karki, Kanchan Burathoki, Ujjwala Maharjan, Alok Thapa, Dikshya Karki, Sahara Sharma, and Nistha Rayamajhi, I’m genuinely proud to be a part of what we call the “Mahan Gaurabshali Team: Team The Week.”
PEOPLE, IT´S PEOPLE IN THE WORLD
BY UJJWAL MAHARJAN
Journalism is all about people – at least for me, it is.
Every person you meet or see or just pass by as you try to make your way through the crowd on your way to someplace where you have to be for the day – each and every one of them has a story of their own. These people ARE the story.
My first assignment at Republica, back when I was an intern, was to write about an art exhibition. Though very interested in arts, I knew I wasn’t the right person to be commenting on anybody’s work of art, and that probably I wouldn’t even be able to interpret it correctly. But I knew I could get people to tell me their stories.
So the first story I submitted was that of a woman who couldn’t hear or speak but expressed herself through her art. I was glad it got approved in the first draft.
After 15 months of being in journalism, though, I know that you can’t get by with it each time. Human angle does make stories interesting; but for some, the issue or subject matter is more important, like it is when you need to prepare a report.
Talking about that, I’m glad I’m in The Week bureau, where I get to do more features than plain reports.
Anyway, researching and studying the subject matter or the issue of the story is one aspect. But unless you find at least one person who has something substantial to say or a new perspective to offer regarding the matter, there’s no story.
There have been times I come back from an interview intrigued and even inspired by the people I just met. I do feel naïve because I realize I get awed by people too easily, and yes, I often get teased about it.
But I honestly say this about one thing or the other or about most people, be it the simplest statement, behavior, thought, act or what they’ve been through, it’ll fascinate you.
And when it does, it’s a lot easier to
write than when you feel nothing. Luckily for me, that’s rare because people, people are interesting.
IN PURSUIT OF TRUTH
BY SHREYA THAPA
Six months ago, I joined journalism oblivious to what the life of a journalist entailed. New, I was eager (and admittedly desperate) to learn in order to fit the image I had of journalists: smart, quick, inquisitive, perceptive, and above all, ready to unfold stories. A few months in, not only have my ideas of the field dissolved into reality, but a sad truth has been revealed to me: journalists don’t have the best reputation in Nepal.
I’ve conducted interviews to discover interviewees are wary of me. Without needing much prodding, they expressed mistrust in my profession. I’ve heard lamentations about being misquoted, having inaccurate details printed, and worse: having things stand closer to fiction than fact.
Though I understand the pressure of demanding schedules and looming deadlines, it saddens and maddens me to discover that journalists have not respected their sources. In my opinion, journalism is a field where ethics comes into question everyday, and without building and maintaining strong relationships, then by breaking trust, by not being thorough, my credibility, and therefore, the reputation of all journalists is tainted.
Though the media is at fault, there’s a flipside that further damages our image. When my work is reviewed before publication, I’m repeatedly reminded to cite my sources, to confirm they’re reliable, to double check that every point I make can be traced to someone else; in fact, it goes as far as me feeling infuriated and frustrated when I can’t express my own opinions. Without having the foundation of truth and accuracy, I can’t write, and Republica can’t publish. But when in pursuit of truth, if we are misinformed, what are we to do?
Outside of work, I’ve overheard people contradict what has been published. When one party argues, “But so-and-so said such-and-such…” the comment is cut off with a simple reminder, “Well, of course they’ll say that for the papers, but we know the truth.” More than once, I’ve been casually told, “A, testai lekhe bhane hunchha” as if they’re doing me (or anyone) a favor by fudging reality.
I’m beginning to understand why people say the media lies, and I don’t blame them. But a deeper look will show we’re being lied to, too. As journalists, we have immense responsibility to our readers, but people fail to see that this responsibility isn’t ours alone.
TYPE AWAY
BY ALOK THAPA
Truth be told, I never thought I would be working as a journalist, let alone slugging it out in a daily newspaper. I guess the best moments in life are unplanned.
My identity has gone beyond just a voice on Hits FM 91.2 to a name that appears on the byline of an article from time to time.
When I first joined, I was just a little overcome by awe for my colleagues, now good friends, who relentlessly pounded their keyboard to tell a story, which might seem insignificant, to start with. The world is full of the most amazing people, with some absolutely exciting stories to tell.
As for the experience so far, I’d love to sugarcoat, but I suck at lying. It’s tough! And it’s only going to get tougher with more and more competition. But then, pressure is a privilege, and you feed off your stress.
I do grumble from time to time, a quality I’m not exactly proud of, but deep inside I’m saying, “Wow, how did you get this lucky?”
Of course, the job comes with its own flock of perks; every now and then you’ll get free admission to an exclusive event or invitation to some glitzy party. But I’m pleased to say that no one can buy my opinion. It’s for me to experience and for the world to read. Whether you agree with me or not is your prerogative.
UNREPRESSED DREAMS!!
BY NISTHA RAYAMAJHI
The profession of a journalist has always intrigued me. It’s been almost a year since I joined Republica as a correspondent; and after being a part of it, I finally got the platform to do what I always wanted to. I love the fact that our work breaks the notion of the stereotype jobs and that we get to explore our creative side each day with each story.
As a journalism student, I always wanted to do something substantial in this field and now here I am living my dream.
Our job is to inform. With this job comes the responsibility of presenting the facts which is credible and also providing justice to the story that we present. Thus for me, this is one of the most challenging and interesting jobs.
We report stories. We do intensive research. We write them. We meet people with whom we agree and also those with whom we disagree, all the while never forgetting to be unbiased. With each story, we build a relationship, we learn. What we do here is we make people’s voices heard and present their side of the stories. And there’s always this immense joy when you get to see your effort getting published in the paper. Thus, for me, every story is an inspiration. It is an opportunity to unfold the facts and learn.
Thanks to The Week team which is my inspiration and for being supportive and for making work fun. I know I still have a long way to go and there’s no looking back for me.
THE WEEK GENERATION
BY SUMINA KARKI
I belong to the Wave generation. I grew up reading the magazine. Think of the time from 1998 to 2003/4 when the only local thing that was cool and bold used to be the magazine.
Not for featuring the so-called hip artists but for taking the readers beyond Kathmandu’s comfort cocoon through some of the stories they had.
Back then for me, the stories were limited to those shiny pages. Now I’m experiencing them – be it traveling to Helambu to see the reopening of a school bombed during the decade-long conflict, or making frequent visits to the Department of Archeology, or publishing my features from the New York Fashion Week.
My relatives have frequently asked me why I chose to write on fashion. For me, writing about fashion is beyond knowing about the latest trends. It’s been a means to document the culture. It’s amazing to see how much effort goes in to design a cloth, or to learn the purpose of a traditional ornament.
In a way, I’m living my dream. On the other hand, I’m also expanding my vision and my dream along with The Week. And working with a dynamic bunch that the WEEK Bureau has at the moment and a few others who have already left is an opportunity and is totally inspiring.
A few years hence or maybe one decade down the line (after reading all these stories), I wish this generation will say that they belonged to “The Week Generation” as I did to the Wave’s one.
NEVER STOP QUESTIONING
BY DIKSHYA KARKI
I often ask myself if what I write will ever change things around me. Does it matter that I write or not? As a journalist and particularly as someone who writes about Nepali films and music, the reactions I get from people around me are interesting.
“I wouldn’t call you a journalist,” says someone. “I see no future in whatever you’re doing. I know you’re following your heart, but so what?”
“The Nepali film industry is, was and will be the same. What new scoop will you write about?” I’m questioned. I brood over the questions. And while I comply with my assignments, I think them over.
To watch Nepali films screened in our halls require immense amounts of perseverance. Our celebrities are commoners. They have no stardom, and if they fake one, it’s bad for their own public relations.
The music industry is dwindling with its fight for royalty and CRBT counts. Music videos and albums are released like new brands of noodles every week. Often, a new film or an English drama being staged for a Nepali audience predicts to sweep you off your feet and you’re left utterly disappointed.
Bollywood films rule our halls, American movies from Khasa Bazaar our DVD racks. Where do Nepali films fit in? Does our music have an identity?
Questions aside, I sometimes barge into people who show me what I’m doing. I see the effort to change things around, and that I’m one element in that effort.
I have a power that few individuals have, with it I can trigger discussion and cause a chain reaction. A good review of a film will encourage people to go to the cinema hall, whether they will like the film or not. Then questioning my judgment is another part of the story. But at least they will give it a shot.
There are no boundaries in journalism, and the best part is you’re an explorer. With each story, you excavate facts and broaden your worldview.
I was once told by director Shyam Benegal during an interview, “Everything you do in life helps you eventually…”
I was inspired. If he remembered me after the interview is out of the question. The world I write about is transient. Here, you are as good as your last film; as good as your last story.
Related story
Box Office: 'Doctor Strange 2' Rules Again as 'Firestarter' Fla...
_20240311121839.jpg)
-1200x560-1779450784.webp)
