Kolkata: In the chaotic theater of Indian journalism, the Editors’ Guild of India, that hallowed bastion of press freedom, has suddenly found its voice—crying foul over an FIR against YouTuber Ajit Anjum. The Guild, usually as vocal as a mime in a monastery, issued a statement dripping with indignation, decrying the “criminalization of journalism.” But where was this righteous fury when West Bengal’s Chief Minister Mamata Banerjee was playing whack-a-mole with journalists’ rights?
In Kolkata, the cultural heart of India, Mamata’s government has been tossing FIRs at journalists like confetti at a wedding. Reporters, once revered for their pens, now dodge legal notices faster than a rickshaw in rush-hour traffic. The Guild, however, was conspicuously silent, perhaps too busy polishing its “non-partisan” badge to notice. Meanwhile, newspapers across Bengal slyly shifted journalists from the protective embrace of the Pay Commission to the Shop and Establishment Act, turning wordsmiths into glorified shopkeepers with zero job security. The Guild? Not a peep, as if their moral compass was stuck in a power outage.
And then there’s the Kolkata Press Club, Asia’s oldest, where elections have been stalled longer than a monsoon traffic jam. Mamata’s administration, with its knack for democratic acrobatics, ensured no ballots were cast, leaving the club’s legacy to gather dust. The Editors’ Guild, which claims to champion press freedom, didn’t even blink. Yet, when Ajit Anjum, a lone social media warrior, faced an FIR, the Guild sprang into action like a Bollywood hero saving the day.
Ajit, with his fiery YouTube rants, isn’t exactly a newspaper editor. He’s a digital renegade, a one-man media circus. So why is the Guild, supposedly the guardian of print journalism, batting for him? Perhaps it’s a trendy pivot to stay relevant in the age of influencers, or maybe they just needed a cause to justify their existence. Either way, their selective outrage is as consistent as Kolkata’s power cuts.
As Bengal’s journalists navigate this dystopian script, the Guild’s crocodile tears for Ajit ring hollow. Press freedom isn’t a buffet—you can’t pick and choose when to care. Until the Guild finds its spine for all journalists, not just the viral ones, it’s just another urban naxal crying wolf in a wilderness of its own making.