“When published, a good story – in any language – takes the form of a freely flowing river”

I thank The Media Foundation and all the jury members for finding my work worthy of this prestigious award. While standing here, I am very much aware of the magnificent and much celebrated legacy of this distinguished award and also of the remarkable body of work that all my predecessors have. This makes me feel very fortunate, full of gratitude, humbled, a little nervous and a lot more responsible.

This award is most special to me personally because it is largely the recognition of my last year’s work published in BBC’s Hindi service.

I have reported and filed in both Hindi and English languages for past 9 years and in my limited experience I often felt that a lot of extra-ordinary and important journalism happening in vernacular languages goes unnoticed just because the ‘mainstream’ opinion makers cannot read or understand these languages. So, I want to take this important opportunity to root for good journalism happening in all languages all across India.

This recognition reconfirms my already strong faith on the power of a good story. A good story – done in any language- published in any platform from any hidden corner of the world- is bound to shine. Once published, a good story almost takes the form of a powerfully flowing river which – sooner or later reaches to everyone who is seeking it and its impact. It’s bound to serve public interest.

But a good story takes a lot out of you too. Sure, it does.

I was born in a small town and in a fairly conservative family which had absolutely zero background in journalism, literature or even reading of any kind. Yes, you are listening to this in 2019. And yes, nobody in my family was happy when I said that I wanted to enrol in a journalism course after passing school. I had to resist a lot and the resistance went on for days. It’s difficult for me to go into the details of this but what I can say here is that the prospects of my working odd hours, frequently traveling, going to public places like police stations and courts and meeting lot of strange men was initially very intimidating for my family. My relatives would often feed my parents that a profession which involves so much of movement of woman is disrespectful. I had to go through a long dark tunnel to free myself from the burden imposed ‘respect’ in order to find my own way. After 9 years, I think I have finally seen a bit of light but the darkness of that tunnel keeps coming back every now and then. It’s a constant struggle.

The battles I had fought on my domestic front were so difficult and hurtful to go through that finally when I stepped out – the outside world – with its all difficulty and trappings– felt easy to cope with.

One such learning that I have gained is that any good story – or for that matter sustaining reporting on important subjects over the years – requires giving up a lot of your personal life. The situation becomes more challenging if you are a woman reporter.

But, on other hand, the opportunity to work on an array of urgent issues like religious intolerance, gender crimes, collapsing state health institutions, epidemic related deaths, police excesses and fake encounters, hunger, agricultural crisis and farmer suicides, mob lynchings and many, many other subjects that I have covered during past decade – has pushed me to look at the world with a more nuanced eye and a more compassionate heart.

My investigations on human trafficking, child abuse, caste based violence, rapes and rights of the marginalized have altered me deep to my bone.

While these reports have made me aware of the many blind-spots in Indian democracy, they have also made me understand two important points.

First is huge importance of sustained reporting on issues like health, farmer suicides and gender – subject which might appear mundane or old or repetitive to the quote unquote ‘mainstream Indian media’. Second is the extreme significance of always holding power to account and just standing tall in favour of pro people public intrest journalism.

As a reporter, my first and foremost commitment is to the truth, to the common people of this country and above all – to that man standing on the margins of Indian Democracy.

But this journey would not have been possible without the help, guidance and companionship of so many people because of whom I am standing here today.

My former editors – Sanjay Dubey – who trusted the reporter in me in my initial years, Nisha Susan and Vinod K Jose- who always had unflinching faith in my capabilities as a reporter.

My editors here at the BBC- a big shout to Rupa Jha who is no less than a force of nature heading all Indian Languages at BBC. Mukesh Sharma –for backing and encouraging public interest journalism throughout. Journalism which is often tedious, painstaking and time taking. And also for being the feminist editor that he is. Rajesh Priyadarshi and Rajesh Joshi- for picking up the weed from my long copies -and the brilliant vizjo team and Shadab Nazmi at BBC for their injecting life in my stories through their illustrations. Brijesh Singh, my oldest and bahut garibi ke dinon wala – dost. Prashant, Himanshuji, Divya, Sushila, all my BBC colleagues– and all my wonderful friends and family who are here today- cheering for me.

The network for women in Indian Media for providing guidance and support when I most needed it. To all my sources and to the wonderful extraordinary and generous army of regional and local reporters who have helped me through out. Without them, I would have been lost. To all the people who trusted with their stories, I am grateful.

My husband, for loving and supporting without ever keeping any conditions. My in-laws and my parents – who have endured many sufferings and made numerous sacrifices for me.

Thank you everyone.

source: Facebook Post