As a journalist and self-appointed commentator on, and prophet for, humanity, being “there” when epoch-defining events happen is a must. Yet strangely, I seem to miss out on them. When 9/11 happened, it was my day off at work. When Babri Masjid happened I was on holiday in Goa. Now, when the USA’s first Black President is sworn in, I am away from the newsroom (and from TV) because of a death in the family.
I soothe the frayed edges of my journalistic instinct with the hope that detachment will offer me the chance of a different perspective. Sigh!
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