Thank you ACJ
I am writing this thank you note to my alma mater, the Asian College of Journalism (ACJ), after I recently came across a social media post with some unflattering observations about it. The post essentially said ACJ is a college where privileged kids come to study journalism. It’s largely accurate.
The fee is high, and many bright people don’t take admission because of this. I got admission primarliy because my mother could mobilise the required fee amount at that time. But ACJ, for me, was a lifesaver.
I failed in my graduation, and there was a three-year gap before i went to ACJ. During this time, I cleared the papers i had flunked. The first year after college was the most painful. Thanks to my mother, I never went hungry, had a roof above my head and got Rs 100 daily. But there wasn’t anything else. People who went to college with me were either pursuing higher studies or working. I felt like a failure. I often wondered whether I would ever work inside an air-conditioned office like my friends.
I started looking for a job at my ex-girlfriend’s insistence. First, I took tuition but kept getting fired because the parents felt I always spared the rod and spoiled their children. Some people gave me content writing assignments. Though my work was appreciated, the gigs were uncertain. Somewhere during that time, I thought of getting into journalism. I was a news junkie from childhood but didn’t consider journalism as a career option.
Getting an opening was a task even after I decided to pursue journalism. I was not getting a job because I had no degree in journalism. I remember meeting the editor of a YouTube channel in Trivandrum, who refused to give me a job because I did not have any requisite qualifications. The channel folded up after a few years.
Journalism schools were unwilling to admit me either because I did not have the minimum marks to take their entrance exam or because I was considered old enough to join their course. I was 25 at that time. I could only apply to two journalism schools, Manorama School of Journalism and ACJ.
I came second in Manorama’s entrance, cleared ACJ’s exam, and opted to study there. ACJ expanded my horizons. Except for the northeast, my batch had students from almost all states. And a few from other South Asian countries. Some of them had gone to top colleges for undergraduate studies. St. Stephen’s Delhi, St. Xavier’s Kolkata, and Lady Shriram are some of the names that come to my mind.
Some were engineers; we had two batchmates from NIT Trichy and others who went to top regional engineering colleges. We had one batchmate who did her masters from IIT Kharagpur and another who dropped out of a PhD programme at the Indian Institute of Science. In short, one was pitted against quality.
It initially made me insecure, and I thought of dropping out. Again, my ex-girlfriend gave me a dressing down, and I went back to Chennai. Support from some kind teachers and batchmates was another pillar of support those days.
Mr Sreekumar Menon was generous with his time. Mr VK Raghunathan once told me I would do well as a journalist when i sought some feedback about my work. Mr Devadas Rajaram, who took a new media module for my class, had some kind words about my blog, which we had to create as part of the class assignment.
But the compliment I treasure the most was from Mr Nishat Ahmed. I was desolate after I couldn’t clear the interview with a news portal. He gently patted me, asked me not to worry, and said bigger news organisations were coming. I got placed the next day.
I have made friends for a lifetime, and I share my rented apartment in Mumbai with one of them. Neglecting my studies during my graduation was one of the biggest mistakes in my life.
The poor grades continue to hamper my progress even to this day. I couldn’t go abroad to study because I didn’t have the minimum marks to be considered eligible. But I am not in bad shape, either. I am making a living; I enjoy being recognised and having access to the best minds in the capital markets. All of this would not have been possible without ACJ.
When I look back, i just have one word: grateful. I was struggling then; I am struggling now. But my present struggles are much better than my past ones. And one day, I hope to find the light at the end of the tunnel and look back at my present and past struggles with a smile. I am a product of my privilege, but reducing me and ACJ to my privilege says a lot about the prejudices of those who make those statements more than me.
