Darryl, the editor who didn't want to be called Sir Olav Albuquerque dro...@rediffmail.com
The funerals of Darryl D’Monte and Manohar Parrikar followed each other in quick succession. I had the privilege of working under D'Monte and meeting Parrikar on four occasions. But Darryl never met Manohar although both shared some common traits. When I joined The Times of India in 1985, as a young man in my early 20s, after being interviewed by then editor Girilal Jain and the management's Ram Tarneja, I hardly ever saw either of them. Girilal Jain was remote and aloof who never interacted with his reporters or chief sub-editors. The only exception being when the evening meeting was held around 6 p.m. for the line-up of stories planned the next day. That was an era when computers and mobile phones had not yet made their advent. Another era. Another time. So, when Darryl first walked into the newsroom in 1988, he summoned me to his cabin and I inadvertently called him "Sir." His response still evokes smiles. "Damn it! Don't call me Sir. Just call me Darryl," he told me peremptorily. The next day, I inadvertently again slipped up. The "Sir" escaped from my lips to evoke a sharp retort from Darryl. "I told you never to call me Sir. Just call me Darryl." That was the quintessential Resident Editor. Informal, clad in a bush shirt and open sandals -- like Manohar Parrikar. I never ever saw him "suited and booted" though he may not have been as averse to donning a tie as Parrikar. On a lighter note, I remember Darryl always being in a hurry. So much so, that when I was in the washroom, he told me to send a telex to two special correspondents to send them out of their base stations to cover some event. He muttered two names in a hurry and left. I send the telexes and after a day had elapsed, he came to my desk, hit himself on the forehead and said I had sent one telex shifting one special correspondent to a different venue. After that, I ensured never to visit the washroom when he used it. Darryl was always open, friendly, approachable and encouraging to those journalists who wanted a byline -- provided you deserved it. I remember getting my very first front page byline in The Times of India approved by him and, after that, there was no looking back. He always sounded a word of caution if you were investigating a sensitive story and were likely to tread on the toes of those high up in the management. It was in the 1990s when the Bombay Union of Journalists (BUJ) and the Mumbai Mazdoor Sabha came on a collision course and a strike was called when all journalists owing allegiance to the BUJ struck work and the BUJ leaders M.J. Pandey, Achin Vanaik, and their colleagues called for a strike. The country's premier English newspaper did not come out for several days, leading to a loss of several crores of rupees each day. Dileep Padgaonkar had to fly down from Delhi to resolve the impasse and Achin Vanaik, who was an assistant editor and had a cabin next to us on the third floor, was asked to speak to the management. Soft-spoken Darryl was asked to mediate -- a task which was neither easy nor to his liking. He would be damned between the journalists, their unions and the management. The outcome of it all was the introduction of the contract system for journalists so that if you wanted a promotion, you had no choice but to accept a contract. Darryl had no choice but to toe the management line and offer us contracts. I was one of the first few journalists to be offered a contract on a raise and a promotion which I promptly turned down. But Darryl only smiled and never insisted that I accept a contract. The 1980s and the early 1990s were heady years in The Times of India with big names like Allwyn Fernandes, S. Dharmarajan, Tyrone D'Souza and others of their ilk who were our seniors. The atmosphere was informal, easy, and Darryl was responsible for that. All of them have preceded Darryl to the world beyond. Perhaps they may have an informal get-together there. It was sad when Darryl was not treated well by the management of Bennett Coleman & Co. and resigned as Resident Editor of the Mumbai edition. His last day in office was an emotional one for all those journalists who worked under him. We all grouped around him, wishing him well. After he left The Times of India, he wrote several books on the environment in his inimitable style. I phoned him every year on November 11 to wish him a happy birthday and he was touched that I kept in touch with him on a regular basis. It was soon after the funeral of Darryl D’Monte was over that I heard the news of Manohar Parrikar having passed away. Well, there goes another stalwart, I thought to myself. I had met him in Goa at least on four occasions and like Darryl D'Monte was impressed by his informal style of being averse to suit-and-tie, wearing a bush shirt and open sandals and being easy and informal. Darryl D’Monte was succeeded by Dina Vakil, a sophisticate who was the exact opposite of Darryl and had joined The Times of India armed with a letter of recommendation from him. She was not easily accessible and sat on stories, unlike Darryl who cleared them in a jiffy. But all that is another story. It will be difficult to forget a doyen of an Editor like Darryl D'Monte who encouraged and nurtured innumerable big names in journalism. We will miss you, Darryl. Articles by Darryl D'Monte (Mongabay.Com) https://india.mongabay.com/by/darryl-dmonte/ Darryl D'Monte on Bandra http://bit.ly/2CpnPLy In the Outlook https://www.outlookindia.com/people/darryl-dmonte/7100 Olav Albuquerque Goa of the 1960s http://y2u.be/Osm9593Is7g On journalism in B'bay: http://y2u.be/7GhtIeF7NLw On contracts for journos: http://y2u.be/SQb3dOkMopE Goan journos in Bbay: http://y2u.be/IpswSiypmbI Journalism vs. Law: http://y2u.be/3E1HeVKxTQ0 -- Dr Olav Albuquerque was a journalist in The Times of India from 1985 to 2005 and spent most of his journalistic career covering the Bombay High Court. He holds a Ph.D in media law from the University of Mumbai and is now a practising lawyer of the high court.