24 August,2024 08:04 AM IST | Mumbai | Aastha Atray Banan
Pradhan (in sari) with Nari Hira, and Ramesh Sippy and Kiran Juneja, at her 70th birthday last year
There are so many memories, it's difficult to choose. He was like my principal, mentor, and teacher. I first met him in 1998, when I came down from Kolkata to try and be a journalist. In those days, you called on the landline. He picked up, and called me to Magna House in Prabhadevi. It was the shortest interview, because he told me, "There is no vacancy". Then why did he call me? He said, "There is a person working here, who is not built to be a journalist. If he quits, you can come in a few months and be a journalist." Three months later, his assistant Mario called me.
I worked five years in Stardust as a reporter. He was very encouraging of young journalists, and new ideas. For example, he never carried obituaries of directors - he used to say, "we are not a bulletin for dead people". But, when director Rituparno Ghosh died in 2013, I told him, this is different. He was one Bengali director who worked with a lot of Bollywood stars. So, he let me write it. You had to use logic with him, not emotions.
When I came to Bombay, I was roofless. He gave me a home in the AFD Building behind Magna House, which was a chawl. He looked after young journalists. He would know when his employees were married, when was their birthday, what was their child's name - he used to throw a lavish annual function every year at his Madh Island home, which catered to his employees, not just the stars. Magna House was really like our home. He would also always stand by your story. When I got a legal notice for a story about a female star having an affair with a married co-star after I took over as Editor of Stardust, he called me into his room and said, "Congrats, now you are an editor".
Later, when I made my first movie, Cakewalk, he held a first look function in London. He flew down my whole family, and organised everything. Who does that for their ex-employees? He was the dictionary of journalism - I learned everything from him. He coined phrases like "angry young men". He would mix Hindi and English, and make up phrases with an Indian touch like Idly Malini, industrywallahs and trade pundits. He was the last emperor of the print kingdom - he fought for it till the end.
When I conceived my baby, other than my husband, Nari Hira, my boss, knew. I was editor of Showtime at that time. I don't think any other editors and publications were very encouraging about female journalists having families and babies, because they felt you would be distracted from work. He was very different, and was excited. This was 1992. He was very encouraging - I had a healthy pregnancy so I was working till my ninth month. He would come and tell me, go home. That was the kind of person he was. He reinforced my natural belief in standing by and supporting your staff, being sensitive about their family matters.
He lived to 86 and lived well. He had his cognac before he felt uneasy and passed away. He went peacefully, surrounded by his family. I was so happy that on my 70th birthday last year, he had come and spent time with me. He was the best publisher and very supportive. I changed the rules at Showtime and introduced a five-day week. He stood by me during all this - all he wanted was an up-to-date magazine that went to print at the right time. He was the first publisher who published my book. It was an adult romance called Valentine Lover. I became an author because of him.
He had a great sense of humour. The best thing about was that he was very warm, and you could be friendly with him but, at the same time, he kept his dignity. There was never any crossing the line with him, which is a marvellous quality in a good boss. I am going to miss him.
