Citizen Journalist

People on the street always have the best lines. None of my deeply thought-out scripts, or pun-laden headlines ever match up. It’s probably the combined effect of their resignation and rage, the unchecked discharge of colloquial lingo, or maybe even the freedom of unaccountability. But they always say it best.

Which is why some channels (like the one I work for) decided to hand the mike to the man/woman on the street. Made them single-cause journalists. And basically just let them to vent their ire on national television.

The idea seems simple enough…. Storytellers are everywhere. In courts, hospitals, police stations, neighborhood parks, aunties’ homes, even sharing your seat on trains. There were too many complaints, and too few reporters. And I’ll admit, not all stories, especially the repetitive ones about potholes and vague ones about corrupt politicians, inspire a half-an-hour special show. But there were definitely many others that did.

Hence, a Citizen Journalist Show. Since the word has been out, so many people have written, called, met us, armed with horrible stories, touching anecdotes, ambitious investigations. But most of all, with little significant stories and complaints.

My role is to be the quasi reporter. Helping anguished first-time reporters to spit fire, take on erring officials, shoot blurred visuals of appalling callousness. It turns out, it’s not as easy as we thought it would be. Many citizen journalists have terrific stories, but cannot articulate it suitably on an English channel. They visibly freeze as soon as the camera comes on. Language and lens has been our, and their, greatest stumbling block.

For instance, a man in Maharashtra told us how government milk dairies have transferred all their work to private players. But he spoke only Marathi. And winced involuntarily every time he looked at the camera, looking repulsed by the very sight of the lens. Finally, we worked around that with less-impactful but inescapable English translations and paradubs.

There have been many others who’ve come with a fantastic story, bowled us over with their oration and passion. But when the essential ground checks are done, we discover a factual error, vested interest, or an exaggeration. It’s shameful and disappointing each time, especially after all the faith we instinctively place in citizenry. Earlier, the discerning ear was reserved for those in power. It is now turned to the citizen as well.

But once doubt is out of the way, we hit the street.

Every time I work with a citizen journalist, there is mutual astonishment. They’re surprised by how much work goes into a seemingly simple 2-minute story. And I marvel at how the soft-spoken woman turns into a raging truthseeker when she encounters deaf ears everywhere; or how the aggressive residential association president bows in all servile glory in front of the Mayor he was supposed to take on.

And then there are quirks. My colleague first explained, then forbade a lady fighting for rape victims from reapplying bright red lipstick every few minutes. I turned virtually into a speech coach for a rapid-talker trying to say why Andhra Pradesh didn’t care for its farmers. Another time, I had to keep barking at a guy who was a detail-fiend: “In 1977, I bought land in No.12, 5^th street, Ganeshapalya Road, Near Sai Baba Ashrama, and visited the lawyer at 3 pm on 12.12.1977….” Another man couldn’t understand volume control, another refused to do any retakes when there was a crowd watching. This got especially complicated, given he was venting about crowded buses.

They call for days after that, asking when their story would make it on air, and at what time. Some introduce us to more zealous citizen journalists in their family. Some ask whether they can send their bio-datas and if they would get a job.

But somehow, even if their eyes are shifty, even if they lapse into their mother tongue, or lose the point in the flurry of details, they still say it best. Some see answers to their long-pending RTIs, some see that urgent water requirement being met, some see the donation-demanding colleges in Court. But the blind citizen journalist is still not allowed to open a bank account, the Bangaloreans still don’t have a cycling lane, the old zoo valiantly guarded by Mumbaiites is still coming down.

We repeatedly visit these causes with the citizens… but many give up. Those who plough ahead, however, see the cause to the end. Even after they stop reporting on camera. Because, as they all always admit during the shoots, they’ve “always wanted to get into journalism”.