PRIMARY SCHOOLING: I Pratichi Trust (India) was established a decade ago, along with its sister across the border, Pratichi Trust (Bangladesh) [1]. The Bangladesh centre has been concentrating on the social progress of girls and young women there (it has worked particularly on supporting and training young women journalists reporting from rural Bangladesh), whereas here in India, the work of the Trust has been mainly focused on advancing primary education...
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The Meanness of Mean India by Kamal Wadhwa
Even a cursory glance at the daily newspaper reveals the economic mindset and the manipulation of that mindset into losing its sense of balance and well-being by the plethora of reports, articles and stories on the economic life of the Indian nation. There are all sorts of stories, statistics, credit appraisals, banking trends, FDI investment couched in the jargon of the modern economy that, curiously enough, seems to be so...
More »The Ground Beneath Our Feet by Tripti Lahiri
CITIES MAKE one simple promise to newcomers: Sacrifice yourself to me and your children shall prosper. This promise drew Ahmed Raza, a small-time wrestler from an Uttar Pradesh village and millions like him to the capital of newly-independent India. Raza kept his part of the bargain, yet half a century later, his daughter was pushed out of the city her father helped build, the only home she has known. “I...
More »‘Entrepreneurial journalists on a par with traditional media’ by G Ananthakrishnan
Journalists who have made the transition to independent online publishing measure themselves against the same professional bar that print journalists do, and are equally differentiated as credible sources in much the same way as newspapers are. Only, the traditional media were holding them to a higher standard than its own, members of a panel discussion at the ongoing 16th World Editors Forum of WAN-IFRA here argued. If anything, some sections...
More »Irom And The Iron In India’s Soul by Shoma Chaudhury
SOMETIMES, TO accentuate the intransigence of the present, one must revisit the past. So first, a flashback. The year is 2006. An ordinary November evening in Delhi. A slow, halting voice breaks into your consciousness. “How shall I explain? It is not a punishment, but my bounden duty…” A haunting phrase in a haunting voice, made slow with pain yet magnetic in its moral force. “My bounden duty.” What could...
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