MB#44: 𝙁𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝘾𝙤𝙢𝙢𝙚𝙧𝙘𝙚 𝙎𝙩𝙪𝙙𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙁𝙧𝙚𝙚𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙒𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙚𝙧.

[MemoirBlogthon#44] A dismissive comment from an esteemed journalist could have ended my career before it began, leaving me humiliated and disheartened. My father's calm guidance and advice to "work for passion, not money" ignited a fire of resilience that changed my life forever.

MB#44: My contributions as freelance journalist.

The Journalist Who Said No

I was a college student of commerce in the 1980s, but my mind was often far from ledgers and balance sheets. It was captivated by words, by stories, and by the buzz of the media world. My first taste of that world was as a casual artist for All India Radio, presenting youth programs—a rush of adrenaline that convinced me: I was meant to write.

My ambition led me to form friendships with working journalists. When a prominent national news journalist announced a visit to our South Indian city, Vijayawada, my well-wishers urged me to meet him. I secured an appointment, feeling a flutter of excitement mixed with nerves.

On the appointed morning, I arrived at the hotel lobby exactly at 9 a.m. The receptionist directed me to wait. I sat there, the soft, overstuffed chairs of the lobby feeling less comfortable by the hour. My initial excitement slowly gave way to a dull ache of anticipation. Three long hours crawled by. The receptionist, glancing at the busy visitors constantly flowing in and out of the journalist's suite, told me I'd have to wait longer, despite my scheduled time.

When my turn finally came at 1 p.m., I nearly jumped up. I strode forward, eager and bright-eyed. "Sir, good afternoon," I began, my voice clear. "I'm an undergraduate studying commerce here, and I aspire to be a journalist like you. I'd appreciate your opinion on my potential."

His response hit me like a splash of cold water. He didn't look at my portfolio or ask about my work. He simply said, with a tone of weary dismissal, "You don't have English language skills. You can't become a journalist. You should seek other options."

I left the hotel with a hollow feeling, the humiliation burning in my chest. The betrayal wasn't just in his words; it was in the four hours I'd waited for that painful sentence.

When I got home, my mood was visibly dark. My father, Sri Susarla Subrahmanya Sastry, a man known for his calm integrity, noticed immediately and asked what had happened. I narrated the entire disappointing experience.

My father listened patiently, his hand resting gently on my shoulder. "Take it easy," he said, his voice a steady anchor. "Let us work out a way to your ambition."

He didn't dismiss the pain; he channeled the energy. His advice was precise: First, find a way to meet sub-editors or journalists who could take me on as an intern. Second, and crucially, "Keep digging for unique news, frame articles, and show them to me before dispatching to the target publications." Then came the key statement that would guide my future: "Don't do it for money; do it as a hobby."

In that moment, the fire that had been extinguished by the journalist's comment roared back to life. My determination was fueled not by the need for validation but by my father’s quiet belief.

I began to accompany my journalist acquaintances into the field, soaking up every bit of experience. I fixed my methods for gathering and writing stories. I sent articles out, often showing the drafts to my father first. He was the first to know whether an article was published, held back, or returned.

One day, I wrote about the curious appearance of a pangolin (anteater) in a nearby museum. That article was featured in a National Youth Fortnight magazine, and I received a congratulatory note from the editor. That single acceptance was my turning point. It inspired me to write, contribute to numerous publications, and even work as a reviewer. With my father's holding hand—a steady presence behind every submission—I eventually secured feature writing services with local newspapers like Andhra Jyothi, the state government magazine Andhra Pradesh, and the national Junior Statesman (JS).

Everyone faces discouragement. The true lesson my father taught me was that the lowest points aren't meant to stop you; they are the necessary friction that sparks the fire of resilience. We only appreciate the highs of success once we’ve felt the sting of a humiliating low.

MB#44: Quiz

MB44-Question: What specific piece of advice did the author's father give that helped him overcome the initial career setback?

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• A. Work for passion, not money.
• B. Focus on networking and connections.
• C. Seek a government job for stability.
• D. Practice writing for ten hours a day.

MB#44: Quote

"The only way to do great work is to love what you do." – Steve Jobs