Dear Editor

I don't think that I am revealing a great secret. All of us, who are fond of writing, secretly crave to see our name in print. Right from my college days, whenever I felt strongly about any news, I would pen a letter in long hand to the editor and post it. My letters must have landed up in the recycle bin, as every day when I opened the paper excitedly, I saw that my letter was sadly missing. My moment of triumph came in 1962, when the country's leading newspaper Times of India published a longish letter of mine, on October the 1st. A young journalist, who today is one the country's most respected art critics, had written a very unfair article about her trip to Italy. It was full of unwarranted stereotypes about Italy. It helps to live in a foreign country, because then you have quite a different perspective. I had lived in Italy and I loved its people, its art and culture. I felt triumphant reading my own concluding paragraph:

"Setting out on a journey with preconceived notions - the Italians are cheats, the English are cold, the Swedes are amoral and the Arabs too fanatic -
only inhibits you in enjoying your stay abroad and coming to know the people better, which is a far better feeling than just sightseeing. As for tourists,
they will continue to be cheated and harassed all over the world, as long as they continue to act and look like tourists!"

That morning when I walked in, everyone in the office treated me like a hero and wanted me to throw a party. It was not everyday, that your name appeared in Times of India. Those days the likes of our Prime Minister, Nehru and other eminent persons used to write letters to the editor. I have always judged a newspaper's respect for its readers by the amount of space the paper allows its readers, to express their opinion. In 1960 the famous 'Penguin Books vs. the Crown' case was filed against publishers for obscenity, for having published the hitherto banned book 'Lady Chatterley's Lover' by D.H. Lawrence. It evoked nationwide interest. Eminent lawyers, writers, artists, priests and politicians and people from every walk of life testified. The readers' response was equally massive and varied. For months on end the Sunday Observer from London added two extra pages only for readers' letters on this case. The letters were incisive, witty, showed outrage and a whole gamut of emotions. It was a delight to read those pages. My favorite letter was from a gentleman, who wrote - 'Freedom of speech is all right. But how many would like their gardeners to read the book"!

Similarly, the Times of London used to bring out a compilation of the best letters of the year. They bordered on academic erudition to gems of understated British wit and humor. I could never imagine writing to TIME magazine and getting my letter published. But finally that day came. Those days, I was the so called President of the Kennedy Fan Club in Nuremberg, Germany. Charismatic Jack had really cast a spell on us youngsters! Then in November 1962 President Kennedy was assassinated. We mourned as if it was a personal loss. I had grown up with TIME, the National Geographic and Reader's Digest. So I anxiously awaited the arrival of my copy of TIME, to see how they had covered the death of a promising and a charming president. The issue arrived and I was disappointed with its contents for they had not done justice to the great man. I still have a copy of the letter, which was shabbily typed on a rickety typewriter and full of spelling mistakes. I had written: 'It appears that the cover story is an obituary for TIME magazine and not for the late president. Never have I looked forward to my favorite magazine so much and never have I been so bitterly disappointed'. A juvenile outburst! I posted the letter and forgot all about it. I never looked out for my letter in the subsequent issues. A month passed and one day there was an airmail letter in my in tray. It carried the TIME logo. I set it aside, as possibly a reminder for renewing my subscription. I used to open such junk mail on Saturdays, when the office was otherwise off. I opened one letter after another and after a glance tossed them into the wastepaper basket. Then I opened the TIME envelope. By Jove! It was a two page letter from the editors of TIME magazine themselves. Can you believe my good fortune! It explained in great detail, as to how they came to write what they did write. And then they concluded:

"In the Publisher's Letter, our intention was to be exact, rather than boastful, about the special relationship we found ourselves in with the President.
We did not want to pretend that it turned on a special sentimental favoritism towards, but rather to suggest that he regarded TIME as an audience he
cared for very much about reaching. President Kennedy himself, with that great gift of nuance he had, was capable of wry after dinner wit about that
relationship, as we quoted him. He spoke good humouredly of our frailty and fallibility, and so we concluded that we didn't mind being considered frail
or fallible for treasuring that relationship. Again, perhaps it was too restrained a way of expressing our loss - but we felt as all Americans did, and
those on our staff who had known the President personally felt that loss even more keenly".

This was my moment of triumph! Three cheers for the reader and three cheers for TIME! Again my office was agog with my new found recognition, not by my letter being published, but by compelling the magazine to send this youngster a detailed reply. It is not every day that the all-knowing editors step down from their pedestal and take the trouble of explaining themselves to a young reader! My German boss even wanted to buy this letter off me as memorabilia. But it even today that letter is my most prized possession.