Vimla Patil's memoirs are like the kernel of an idea that never sees germination. In just a hundred-odd pages she dismisses the thirty years she spent with the Times of India group, much of it as editor of their magazine for women, Femina.
Patil joined Femina in 1959 at its inception, but was to leave two years later to work with the USIS for five years before returning to the Times Group and the magazine. Femina, Patil argues, gave the educated, English-reading Indian woman the first benchmark against which she could set her ideals in grooming, cooking, being the good home maker and career woman. It became the aspirational index of the Indian woman, whose identity now developed a pan-Indian hue.
But in the Times world, it was never more than an also-ran. The grouse running through the small volume is Patil's agitation at the little respect the magazine commanded in the Times group despite fetching a good number of advertisements. The staff there were also the worst paid in the establishment, she rues.
Unfortunately, she does not dwell on the changing profile of the magazine itself. Instead, there are inane statements like: Femina remained the beacon that guided the women's movement (which begs the question, how?). Like a river, it avoided obstacles and filled every ditch in its path and charted its own course. There is no attempt to detail, describe or analyse, and thus bring alive those times. And it gets tiresome listening to a monotonous voice endlessly repeating that the magazine was an excellent, trailblazing product. It's a fault that can-not be easily forgiven.
What about her own life? All the reader learns is that the memoir writer got married some six months before she joined Femina for the first time, and bore two children, a boy and a girl. From the dedication one learns that she is now also a grandmother. But there is no room here for contemplation. Instead, we have handfuls of moral bilge being flung at us, which she claims she discovered from her own personal experiences: Have a strong, clean, honest character because only such a character gives fulfilment in the final analysis. More specifically for the women readers who so love her (by her own claim), there are gems like: Consider that it's a woman's birthright to be beautiful. She must always remain lovely to look at. I am sure you haven't heard that one before.
A fairly large section of the book is devoted to the Miss India event and fashion shows hosted by Femina. But the narrative is fragmented, touching upon the bare bones. Surely there would have been interesting vignettes to highlight. But nay. Ms Patil evidently does not believe in the art of good, well fleshed out narration. Maybe it is not in her literary or writing powers to achieve this, but surely the book went through the hands of editors.
The idea of a book of this nature is replete with possibilities. No, it certainly didn't have to be a juicy concoction of gossipy tidbits on the functioning of the Times of India or peeping behind the curtains at the goings-on in the lives of the Times' first family, the Sahu Jains. But it could certainly have been more than a roll-call of all the people Patil encountered in her years there. After all, Patil was the first woman in the TOI lunch room. She saw the management style undergo a sea-change with the new generation, represented by Samir Jain. She organised the much-vaunted Miss India shows that was to eventually propel Indian belles into the international beauty scene.
And she rubbed shoulders with some of the big names that walked in and out of the portals of the Old Lady of Boribunder