If advertising is going to be your career...

...and you have a portfolio ready, you may want to consider taking part in "portfolio night" -- "an opportunity for junior advertising professionals and students to meet the top minds of the industry and have their work reviewed."

Take a look at some of the names on the roster of judges who attended India's first portfolio night in Mumbai on May 20: Piyush Pandey, chairman of O&M; Prasoon Joshi, executive chairman of McCann Erickson; and R. Balakrishnan, chairman and chief creative officer of Lowe India.

Read all about it here in this comprehensive feature by Gouri Shah in Mint.

Intros that address readers, intros that don't

Take a look at this intro in today's DNA. It's the lead story on Page 1 about India's first 3G spectrum auction:

Consumers across the country will be able to not just hear, but also see the person they are calling on the mobile phone by November this year, thanks to the successful wrap-up of India's first 3G spectrum auction. The availability of spectrum will enable mobile operators to provide new services like TV on mobile, games, and music, while also improving voice quality and reducing call drops.

This story was reported by Sreejiraj Eluvangal from New Delhi. Look how readers are drawn into the story with a description of the benefits that will accrue to them when 3G becomes a reality.

Here's the second para:

The government will collect Rs67,719 crore as its share of the booty from seven successful bidders, with Bharti Airtel and Vodafone Essar bagging the most lucrative circles. The two biggest cities in India, Delhi and Mumbai, will see 3G services being launched by Vodafone, Bharti, and Reliance Communications. According to operators, they are likely to start work on network planning and installation as soon as the provisional spectrum allocations are confirmed on payment of the requisite bid amounts.

The bid amount, the names of the auction winners, and some jargon in the form of "network planning and installation" and "provisional spectrum allocations" are not used in the intro because they can put off readers and prevent them from getting into the story quickly. The bid amount is also mentioned in the strapline, so, to avoid "stuttering", there is no repetition in the intro.

Now read the first few (messy) paras of the Times of India report by Shalini Singh:

After tremendous hype, hoopla, 34 days and 183 rounds of aggressive bidding by nine players, the 3G auctions drew to a close on Wednesday after raking in a whopping Rs 67,719 crore for the government.

The 3G bounty is almost double the original revenue estimates of Rs 30,000 crore by telecom minister A Raja and more recently, Rs 36,000 crore by finance minister Pranab Mukherjee.

Effectively, this translates to Rs 16,750.6 crore for a single pan-India slot of 3G spectrum. The government auctioned three pan-India 3G slots with additional spectrum in Punjab, West Bengal, Himachal Pradesh, Bihar and Jammu and Kashmir. BSNL & MTNL were already allocated 3G spectrum a year ago. They did not bid, but will now have to pay the 3G auction price for their spectrum holding.

Vodafone, Bharti and Reliance bagged the plum Delhi and Mumbai circles for a whopping Rs 3,316.9 crore and Rs 3,247.1 crore respectively.

Bharti, Reliance and Aircel won 13 circles each, Idea 11, and Vodafone and the Tatas 9 circles each. S Tel got three circles while Etisalat did not win a single one.

This story appears to be told from the government viewpoint — how it stands to gain from the 3G auction — and it's packed with numbers and details that are mind-boggling for the ordinary reader.

Which approach is better?

In my view, DNA's, by a long shot. DNA also provides a helpful sidebar that gives readers answers to the questions, What is 3G?, What's the right way?, and What will the cost be like?

When newspapers prefer advertisers over readers, it shows in the reporting too, doesn't it?

• Dipankar Paul (Class of 2009) comments: Absolutely!

• Arpan Bhattacharyya (Class of 2010) comments: I agree! One more point about the ToI intro:
  
  After tremendous hype, hoopla, 34 days and 183 rounds of aggressive bidding by nine players, the 3G auctions drew to a close on Wednesday after raking in a whopping Rs 67,719 crore for the government.
  
  If you read the paragraph, the writer has made a fundamental error (at least in my humble opinion), something that I am fanatical about when I write. I don't like the use of the word "after" twice in the same paragraph, in this case. It's like saying, "After I went to my uncle's house, I had a wonderful time after he made me a lovely lunch."

If it's your dream to be a novelist, you must read this...

Master storyteller and long-distance runner Haruki Murakami is probably the best-known Japanese novelist in the world today, thanks to quirky bestsellers Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman (a collection of 24 short stories), Kafka On The Shore (a full-length novel) — both of which I have read — and many more.

In Japan Murakami's popularity is such that the publication last month of his first novel in five years, 1Q84, set off a frenzy among his fans, forcing his publisher to increase the print run.

He also writes non-fiction: What I Talk About When I Talk About Running was published in July 2008 and immediately became a bestseller. I chanced upon it at the Just Books library in JP Nagar a few months ago and, because I have been training to run at least five times a week at the gym, I was able to benefit from many of the insights Murakami offers.

But this is what really struck me. There are many people, most of them youngsters, whose dream it is to write a novel. It is to them that Haruki Murakami really addresses these excerpts I have chosen from What I Talk About When I Talk About Running. Look at the three traits he lists as a must: talent, focus, and endurance. And see how he elaborates on each of these traits below:

IN EVERY INTERVIEW I'M ASKED what's the most important quality a novelist has to have. It's pretty obvious: talent. No matter how much enthusiasm and effort you put into writing, if you totally lack literary talent you can forget about being a novelist. This is more of a prerequisite than a necessary quality. If you don't have any fuel, even the best car won't run.

The problem with talent, though, is that in most cases the person involved can't control its amount or quality. You might find the amount isn't enough and you want to increase it, or you might try to be frugal to make it last longer, but in neither case do things work out that easily. Talent has a mind of its own and wells up when it wants to, and once it dries up, that's it. Of course certain poets and rock singers whose genius went out in a blaze of glory — people like Schubert and Mozart, whose dramatic early deaths turned them into legends — have a certain appeal, but for the vast majority of us this isn't the model we follow.

If I'm asked what the next most important quality is for a novelist, that's easy too: focus — the ability to concentrate all your limited talents on whatever's critical at the moment. Without that you can't accomplish anything of value, while, if you can focus effectively, you'll be able to compensate for an erratic talent or even a shortage of it. I generally concentrate on work for three or four hours every morning. I sit at my desk and focus totally on what I'm writing. I don't see anything else, I don't think about anything else. Even a novelist who has a lot of talent and a mind full of great new ideas probably can't write a thing if, for instance, he's suffering a lot of pain from a cavity. The pain blocks concentration. That's what I mean when I say that without focus you can't accomplish anything.

After focus, the next most important thing for a novelist is, hands down, endurance. If you concentrate on writing three or four hours a day and feel tired after a week of this, you're not going to be able to write a long work. What's needed for a writer of fiction -- at least one who hopes to write a novel — is the energy to focus every day for half a year, or a year, two years. You can compare it to breathing. If concentration is the process of just holding your breath, endurance is the art of slowly, quietly breathing at the same time you're storing air in your lungs. Unless you can find a balance between both, it'll be difficult to write novels professionally over a long time. Continuing to breathe while you hold your breath.

Fortunately, these two disciplines — focus and endurance — are different from talent, since they can be acquired and sharpened though training. You'll naturally learn both concentration and endurance when you sit down every day at your desk and train yourself to focus on one point. This is a lot like the training of muscles I wrote of a moment ago. You have to continually transmit the object of your focus to your entire body, and make sure it thoroughly assimilates the information necessary for you to write every single day and concentrate on the work at hand. And gradually you'll expand the limits of what you're able to do. Almost imperceptibly you'll make the bar rise. This involves the same process as jogging every day to strengthen your muscles and develop a runner's physique. Add a stimulus and keep it up. And repeat. Patience is a must in this process, but I guarantee the results will come.

In private correspondence, the great mystery writer Raymond Chandler once confessed that even if he didn't write anything, he made sure he sat down at his desk every single day and concentrated. I understand the purpose behind his doing this. This is the way Chandler gave himself the physical stamina a professional writer needs, quietly strengthening his willpower. This sort of daily training was indispensable to him.

Writing novels, to me, is basically a kind of manual labour. Writing itself is mental labour, but finishing an entire book is closer to manual labour. It doesn't involve heavy lifting, running fast, or leaping high. Most people, though, only see the surface reality of writing and think of writers as involved in quiet, intellectual work done in their study. If you have the strength to lift a coffee cup, they figure, you can write a novel. But once you try your hand at it, you soon find that it isn't as peaceful a job as it seems. The whole process -- sitting at your desk, focusing your mind like a laser beam, imagining something out of a blank horizon, creating a story, selecting the right words, one by one, keeping the whole flow of the story on track -- requires far more energy, over a long period, than most people ever imagine. You might not move your body around, but there's gruelling, dynamic labour going on inside you. Everybody uses their mind when they think. But a writer puts on an outfit called narrative and thinks with his entire being; and for the novelist that process requires putting into play all your physical reserve, often to the point of overexertion.

***

Later in this chapter, Murakami discusses the impact of his running on his writing:

MOST OF WHAT I KNOW about writing I've learned through running every day. These are practical, physical lessons. How much can I push myself? How much rest is appropriate — and how much is too much? How far can I take something and still keep it decent and consistent? When does it become narrow-minded and inflexible? To what extent should I be confident in my abilities, and when should I start doubting myself? I know that if I hadn't become a long-distance runner when I became a novelist, my work would have been vastly different. How different? Hard to say. But something would have definitely been different.

In any event, I'm happy I haven't stopped running all these years. The reason is, I like the novels I've written. And I'm really looking forward to seeing what kind of novel I'll produce next. Since I'm a writer with limits — an imperfect person living an imperfect, limited life — the fact that I can still feel this way is a real accomplishment. Calling it a miracle might be an exaggeration, but I really do feel this way. And if running every day helps me accomplish this, then I'm very grateful to running.

People sometimes sneer at those who run every day, claiming they'll go to any length to live longer. Most runners run not because they want to live longer, but because they want to live life to the fullest. If you're going to while away the years, it's far better to live them with clear goals and fully alive than in a fog, and I believe running helps you do that. Exerting yourself to the fullest within your individual limits: that's the essence of running, and a metaphor for life — and for me, for writing as well. I believe many runners would agree.

It is to your advantage to go out and buy (and read) this book. Here are the relevant details: What I Talk About When I Talk About Running, by Haruki Murakami; translated by Philip Gabriel; published by Vintage 2009; 192 pages.

And if you find you're struggling with distractions when you're trying to get on with your writing, Mint's tech column Download Central has just the tool for you. It's an app called Writemonkey that hides all the windows and applications and forces you to type in a full screen text editor interface with very soothing colours. Like the idea? Go for it!

• Commits alumna Sanaa Aesha (Class of 2008) comments: Writemonkey took me back to the good ol' feel of pencil against paper. Nothing shiny in between. Just better handwriting. So I guess this takes care of focus. Endurance, however, will take more than a monkey to achieve.

• NOVEMBER 1, 2011 — ALSO READ: Can a translation improve on the original? Find out in this interview with Philip Gabriel — How Haruki Murakami's 1Q84 Was Translated Into English. And here's a comprehensive review from the New York Times of 1Q84: "Murakami's Mega-Opus".

A book that attempts to inject a gender perspective into journalism

Here's some advance information from Zubaan Books on a book that will be of great interest to all media students and also to journalists:

MISSING: HALF THE STORY
Journalism as if Gender Matters
Kalpana Sharma ed.
Zubaan Books
Pages 304; Price Rs.395

Toilets, trees, and gender? Can there be a connection? Is there a gender angle to a business story? Is gender in politics only about how many women get elected to parliament? Is osteoporosis a women's disease? Why do more women die in natural disasters? These are not the questions journalists usually ask when they set out to do their jobs as reporters, sub-editors, photographers, or editors. Yet, by not asking, are they missing out on something, perhaps half the story?

This is the question this book, edited and written by journalists for journalists and the lay public interested in media, raises.

Through examples from the media, and from their own experience, the contributors explain the concept of gender-sensitive journalism and look at a series of subjects that journalists have to cover -- sexual assault, environment, development, business, politics, health, disasters, conflict -- and set out a simple way of integrating a gendered lens into day-to-day journalism. Written in a non-academic, accessible style, this book is possibly the first of its kind in India -- one that attempts to inject a gender perspective into journalism.

• Kalpana Sharma is an independent journalist, columnist, and media consultant based in Mumbai. She writes regularly for several newspapers and websites on a range of issues including urban development, gender, contemporary politics, and the media. She was, until 2007, deputy editor and chief of bureau, Mumbai, of The Hindu. She has also written and edited several books and is a founder-member of the Network of Women and Media, India.

• Four other women journalists have collaborated on this book, edited by Kalpana: Laxmi Murthy, Rajashri Dasgupta, Sameera Khan and Ammu Joseph, who has written three of the chapters.

How the press can endorse a political party...

...and, at the same time, disparage the prime ministerial candidate of a rival party:

That's Britain's Daily Mirror for you, on the day the country goes to vote.

How well do you know your men?

Tehelka has this occasional series on Indian men, which the magazine began with this hilarious look at the contradictions in the Malayali male by Nisha Susan, the magazine's assistant editor.

Here is an excerpt:

(Yet,) seeking the typical Malayali man is a slippery affair. Each one looks out moodily and introspectively at you from behind varying amounts of facial hair. He’s sure he’s not typical, sure he’s misunderstood by his community. Simultaneously, he likes being Malayali and sure he’s the distilled Malayali, and others crude abominations.

Then came the dissection of the UP, or Uttar Pradesh, man by Annie Zaidi, the Mumbai-based writer and author, who brings up the three broad categories into which she cast the UP man when she was growing up:

White chikan kurta-clad sons of former zamindars who continue to rear pigeons and fly kites as a full-time occupation and sometimes carried guns, almost like a liability; the lean, inscrutable rickshaw-pullers/stone-breakers/gardeners; and the westernised, English-speaking intellectual. There was a time when, if a Hindi filmmaker wanted to create the character of a provincial intellectual, he would place the character in Allahabad — once known as the Oxford of the East. By the time I grew up, UP had cast off any intellectual pretensions it had and settled firmly into a mould defined by politics, caste and religion.

Now, in the issue of May 1, Tehelka holds a magnifying glass over the Marwari man. "Don't show me the money, show me your mummy" is the headline to Tusha Mittal's insider piece on a world that is easily recognisable if you're a Marwari, like Tusha, one of the magazine's principal correspondents. Here is an excerpt:

At his core, the Marwari man is a staid, almost docile, apolitical creature. Independent thinking has never been a good value. Asking questions is taboo.

 

That is why a good Marwari mummy was horrified when her 16-year-old boy declared he wanted to be a journalist: “I have failed to bring you up”. Soon, the trauma took on entirely new proportions. “English honours? Isn’t that what girls do?” That was the first time the boy realised what it means to be a Marwari man. (Unless 3/50 in Math counts as the definitive moment of truth.)

What has been deemed sacred in the Marwari home is “respect for elders” — a master stroke, a classic euphemism to ensure the old patriarchal values remain unchallenged and unquestioned. In the Marwari world, the daughter is merely an impediment in the quest for a son. A child of privilege, the Marwari man has always been comfortable with this status quo. “If the first child is a daughter, there’s a fear of what the second will be,” says Reshma Jain, editor of Marwar. If the second is a girl, try a third. If that fails, the bride and her chromosomes have clearly not understood the good values that prevail in Marwari society.

All these pieces are laced with humour and written in good faith. Even so, there seem to be plenty of home truths for readers to absorb and think about.

Here Kirti Bhotika (Class of 2008) gives us her reaction to the analysis of the Marwari man after I had sent her the link by email with my question: Anyone you know? Or recognise?

Hahaha! Pretty much the whole clan!!! Why do you think I am marrying a guy who's NOT a Marwari :D

Most of the article is absolutely true, Sir. But yes, things are changing. I have cousins who are working, (and no, they are not interior designers or fashion designers running a small boutique out of that extra useless room in their big houses) who are serious about their careers AND with the consent of not just their husband but the whole family! And I really admire those families. But yes, it is true that these kind of families would only be a small percentage. Another change that I have noticed is that Marwaris are happy if a girl is born - I must mention here that my father was overjoyed when I was born and distributed pots of rasgullas to the family, extended family, neighborhood, etc etc etc. :) What can I say, I am blessed! It's no longer a taboo when a girl is born in the family... There have been innumerable incidents of a son/sons betraying the father so finally it's dawned upon them that girls prove to be better in the long term. Yes! Girls rock! 

And Sir, among all the cons, I love the pro that we still are so attached to our culture and traditions - I don't know where else would one follow all of it, with so much pride. It's a lot of fun and binds us together, I wouldn't want to let go of it.

Yes, the weddings are bit show-off, but that can't be helped - our fathers believe, you got it or not, you flaunt it. Am not particularly happy about this...

Would just like to end with this - every clan/caste/religion has its own set of pros and cons and we should strive to accept the pros and change the cons as much as we can, for the progress of our society.

All valid points, Kirti. What do others have to say?

• The July 10 issue of Tehelka has Pragya Tiwari's illuminating piece on the Bengali man. Read it here.

It's rare to find a business story about Ekta Kapoor in Indian magazines or newspapers

And even more rare to find a well-written one. So it was a treat to read this excellent analysis of the trials and tribulations and, now, the comeback of India's soap queen in Forbes India. The authors, Saumya Roy and Deepak Ajwani, have clearly done their homework and, just as clearly, they have spent time with Ekta getting to know her, her style of functioning, her working relationship with her new CEO, Puneet Kinra.

Here are a couple of excerpts:

Impulsive decisions, once the norm at Balaji, have given way to thought-through processes. Former employees recall how shifts would run late into the night, when a last-minute phone call from her would require them to throw away the portions shot through the day and reshoot. 

Kapoor is no longer that capricious: “We’ve taken very strong calls that no last-minute changes are needed. If the script needs to be rechecked, then the script head, who we have now, rechecks the script after we write. No longer am I that involved with any one show that I’m making these night calls and changing everything.”

And then Puneet Kinra enters the picture:

She can’t do it alone. That’s why she brought in corporate finance professional Puneet Kinra to realign Balaji’s strategies and fix the operational irritants.

At first look, Kinra couldn’t be more different from Kapoor. He is the perfect foil for her creative, passionate self. This 38-year-old ex-PricewaterhouseCoopers hand is all about processes, risk management and cost control. But together, they seem to be evolving a formula to keep Balaji Telefilms a creative-focused but soundly managed entertainment enterprise.

Good writing makes good business sense, doesn't it?

• Thanks to Nilofer D'Souza for the tip-off.
• Photos courtesy: Forbes India

Reading CAN help your writing

Time Out Bengaluru, in my opinion, is the best "local" magazine in the city, for the writing, the editing, the headlines... the ideas! Take this review of the Zeus Sports Bar on Brigade Road in the latest issue.

Read the intro:

Manohar Crest is no Mount Olympus. If you’re in this building on Brigade Road, you will not, like Zeus, be able to cast your eyes upon lands far and wide, watching as Hades makes off with the white-armed Persephone. You might, however, spot someone barely escaping the maws of death – or the left front wheel of a BMTC bus, as Bangalore calls it – near St Patrick’s Complex.

The reviewer, Kankshi Mehta, knows a thing or two about Greek mythology so she's able to add that divine line about Zeus, and Hades, and Persephone. Isn't that clever?

Continue reading and you'll see more Grecian references, including this one:

And now, onto the food. If you’re a vegetarian… well, there really is only one way to put this, and in order to do so, one must turn one's attention to a scene from that iconic insertion of Greek mannerisms into popular culture, My Big Fat Greek Wedding. Here, Toula Portokalos’s suitor, a vegetarian, is being introduced to the family, and this is what transpires: Toula: “He doesn’t eat meat.” Aunt Voula: “What do you mean he don’t eat no meat?” Stunned silence in the room. Aunt Voula; “Oh, that’s okay. I make lamb.” Okay, it’s not that bad, but still, vegetarians get slim pickings at this bar.

And the flourish at the end:

Opa!

Here is a definition of opa:  A Greek word that may be used as an ‘exclamation’, or ‘utterance’, or ‘declaration’, or ‘affirmation’ or a lovingly gentle way of telling you to ‘Stop’ ... depending on the situational context. It is a word or pronouncement of celebration; the celebration of life itself.

Kankshi Mehta is one well-read journalist who's also well-versed in popular culture and what a difference it makes! Agree?

• Also read: "If you don't read, you can't write".

All hail The Caravan for giving us...

...some marvellous reads in the latest issue. There's hardly any magazine in India that opens up its pages wholeheartedly to long-form journalism, so those looking for something substantial to sink their teeth into, in a manner of speaking, will gladly devour the May issue.

Look at the treasures on offer:

1. Who the Foucault Stole My Cheez?
A brief but wildly satirical and clever piece by "Timothy Paperphadkar" on the dead-end nature of academic seminars.

2. Paperback Messiah
Who doesn't know (about) Chetan Bhagat? And which young person hasn't read at least one of his books? No hands going up? That's not at all surprising considering India's most popular author in terms of sales has become a youth icon in less time than you can say 2 States: The Story of My Marriage. 

Here Srinath Perur immerses himself in Bhagat's world to learn what it is exactly that the banker-turned-writer has done to get millions looking up to him as their role model.

Here are some excerpts:

Bhagat has said he thinks of himself as 90 percent entertainer, ten percent reformer. This mix ensures that his novels occupy a strange literary register, one in which stories dealing with social concerns are written using the conventions of pulp fiction. In the tradition of pulp, Bhagat’s books employ linear plotlines, simple language and short sentences. Readers speak fondly about how quick-paced Bhagat’s books are and how they never get boring, something achieved by never requiring the reader to pause. Characters do not aspire to the complexities of realism, but are constituted of a few clearly defined characteristics in rough accordance with which they behave. They often behave in disjointed fashion, hurtling along from one mood to the next before the reader’s attention can wander. And they never respond to situations in nuanced ways which might require the reader to pause and reflect; their responses are clearly communicated through word, gesture or expression. To whatever extent possible, plausible stereotypes are employed over fresh and telling detail, freeing the reader from having to rely too heavily on the text. Events in the books can sometimes take melodramatic turns, and depending on what one is used to, this can require a significant ability to suspend disbelief.

*

Interestingly, none of the Chetan Bhagat readers I interviewed seemed particularly aware of any larger message or intention in the books. Kavitha Gopinath, an ardent Bhagat fan, works for a telecom company in Bengaluru and was an enthusiastic audience member at the launch of 2 States. She says about Bhagat, “For me he’s the ultimate entertainer. His books are effortless to read.” Asked about the larger significance of his books, she says, “Honestly, I didn’t realise there was any. It was only when he spoke about it during the launch that I went, ‘Oh. Okay.’”

Read the article in full here.

3. Tales from the Indian Fish Trail
A detailed investigation by well-known journalist Samanth Subramanian into the controversial Hyderabad fish cure. In the great tradition of the old New Journalists, Subramanian also volunteers to swallow the "miracle" fish live so that he can write about the whole experience:

And then, suddenly, it was my turn.

The most disconcerting moment of the entire process was a few seconds of stasis, when Harinath held the fish up, medicine gleaming in its mouth, and I stood with my mouth open as if it were the Eucharist wafer, dimly aware that I could still twist away and run. Then the stasis broke, and Harinath’s hand, full of fish, was in my mouth.

From all the first-hand observation that evening, I must have somehow learned how to swallow right, because the fish went down, tail first, much easier than I expected. It was slippery and small, and although I felt an initial tickle, I think it had expired by the time it was a third of the way down my throat. Right away, though, I realized that it wasn’t the fish that was making people retch; it was the asafoetida, so strong and vicious that tears started in your eyes in that very first second. Then, as it slid down, it burned such a trail of further pungency down your throat that your hair stood on end and your fingers clenched involuntarily. Eyes still streaming, I grabbed at a bottle of water behind Harinath, although somehow, my mind had inscrutably fixed on its own preferred solution to the asafoetida’s pungency: fresh-cut mangoes.

These paragraphs appear towards the end of the article, but the whole piece is bursting with lustrous writing.

4. His Personal World of Sound 
An entertaining profile of Vijay Iyer, the jazz musician from India who's galvanising the New York music scene. I love jazz and I play it often in my car and at work but I would be stumped if I were asked to talk about what makes jazz "jazz". So I am grateful that the author, Akshay Ahuja, has helpfully given me a few pointers:

Today ... many no longer perceive modern jazz as a part of vernacular culture. As Iyer acknowledges, the music has become freighted, for whatever reason, with various anxieties. “There’s a certain kind of guilt factor that comes into play with jazz. People will be like ‘I don’t know anything about jazz...therefore I don’t listen to it, or therefore I don’t want to pay attention to it.’ And part of it is that people feel obliged to be experts on it in order to listen to it.”

Part of the challenge of being a jazz musician today—or a painter or a poet, for that matter—is simply getting people to actively engage with the work and trust their response. “There’s no great mystery,” Iyer says. “It’s just about letting people in the door."

Like most improvisational arts, jazz gains immeasurably from being experienced live. Every musician produces sound not just with an instrument or a set of vocal cords, but with the entire body. A melodic phrase can be formed with the motions of a pair of hands, its rhythms accented by the slide of a foot. As Amiri Baraka wrote of Thelonious Monk, “The quick dips, half-whirls, and deep pivoting jerks that Monk gets into behind that piano are part of the music, too. Many musicians have mentioned how they could get further into the music by watching Monk dance, following the jerks and starts.”

Brilliant! Do read the article in full.

*

Media students will also benefit from reading about NREGA, India's landmark welfare scheme, which is the cover story in this issue. 

Also, there is a highly educational feature on the latest game the big boys (and girls) play: carbon trading.

Sadly, the computer screen is not the ideal medium in which to enjoy long-form journalism. So if you can, buy this month's issue of The Caravan to savour the goodies. (For those at Commits, a copy has been placed in the college library.)

• Also read: "The man who has proved — literally — that journalism is an art form". 
  

LONG-FORM JOURNALISM SITE
If you are looking for more in the way of long-form reads, here is a site that's right up your alley. The editor, Aaron Lammer, sent me an email this morning after he came across The Reading Room while, he says, he was looking for Indian long-form journalism pieces. 

At Longform.org, the editors "post articles, past and present, that we think are too long and too interesting to be read on a web browser. We started this site to bring together our enthusiasm for both great longform reads and the excellent Instapaper reader".

Check it out here and see for yourself what the Instapaper reader is all about.

How do you write about personal experiences?

Especially when they leave a bad taste in your mouth and smack of racism? Here's a young Guwahati-based journalist writing in Tehelka on his encounter with a Delhi landlady:

“Oh, you guys are Manipuris?” She intended a rhetorical question but wound up reiterating the popular geographical lessons that ignorance has taught her — along with probably another three-quarters of the population. The northeastern states have been muddled and shuffled to form this mess, stripping all civilisational peculiarity that is natural.

To read the article in full, go here.