Look who is talking…

(By Ashish Mukherjee)

To say that Jyoti Sanyal knew the English language inside out would be an understatement. Or to snatch an idea from his Statesman Stylebook, it would be "stating the obvious".

In my nine months at ACJ, and afterwards, I never found Sanyal stuck for want of the right word – written or spoken. I used to be as much kicked about his razor-sharp intros (scribbled in red ballpoint ink on my newswriting exercises) as his manner of speaking.

During the daily swipes that he took at English language newspapers, Sanyal never wasted time or vocabulary on unnecessary civilities. Blunt was his way. He would call a spade a spade, and often a bit more! No wonder that quite a few of my batchmates would routinely get pissed off.

Here's a rewind to the ACJ classroom of 1998, to the “vocabulary” of Jyoti Sanyal.

Shitrag – First day, first salvo against substandard journalism. This was Sanyal's common noun for English language newspapers. Not one paper escaped the tag.

Who wrote this piece of shit? – A question Sanyal would regularly throw at us, especially during critiques of the ACJ lab journal. Unable to explain the use of that unnecessary adjective or wrong phrase, the culprit could do little but fumble.

Face first, arse later – This had nothing to do with the human anatomy. Sanyal was merely telling us how to put names and designations in copies – always, the name first and designation later. "S M Krishna, former chief minister of Karnataka", he would say…

This is Baboo English! – Thank you Ram for reminding me of this in your MiD DAY column!
“Baboo English” was Sanyal’s dig at 21st century Indian English written with a 19th century colonial hangover. The commonest example he would give was the practice of putting a "subject" in official letters.
My admission application to ACJ had run with the subject "Request for ACJ admission form". The teacher in Sanyal lost no time in correcting me, even though I was months away from my ACJ studentship.

Handout journalists – A reference to reporters who churned out reader-unfriendly stories from government and police handouts, ignorantly picking up and adopting hackneyed expressions and clumsy sentences along the way.

25 – The maximum number of words the intro of a copy could have. A Lakshman Rekha that we dare not cross! I started my ACJ stint with 40-word intros and steadily improved…
Towards the end of the course, when I sometimes managed to say it all in about 20 words, Sanyal would don his editing hat, carefully strike off a few words and say, "It's 15 words now. What do you think? Can we tighten it further?”...

Don't put the cart before the horse – News first always was Sanyal’s mantra. Especially in legal copies where reporters have the habit of prefacing important judgements with the name of the judge.

Never point out, it's bad manners – While quoting in copies, Sanyal wondered why journalists would unnecessarily make officials and ministers "point out", "mention", “stress”, “add” or "opine" when one could simply "say" things. His take was when reporters write "so and so pointed out", they actually mean "so and so said"…

"In any case, never point out,” Sanyal would say, his index finger pointing very much at you. “It's bad manners!"

-Ashish