VIJENDRA Kumar was a giant in the literal and figurative sense.
Born in Nadi and a teacher by profession, he stood well over six feet (1.8 metres in today’s measurement). But it was his inherent dignity and integrity which truly set him apart from Fiji’s editors after the military coup of 1987 and the ensuing turbulent times for the media industry.
Kumar – fondly known as VK by everyone at The Fiji Times – guided the newspaper through two coups, closure and loss of revenue at great personal cost.
Snatched by armed soldiers in the darkness of night, he suffered the indignity of interrogation by a former junior staff member over a grammatical error. He faced death threats and abuse over a four-year period with stoicism and a wry smile.
Without complaint he stood between an adversarial government and his journalists, taking every angry official rebuke on his broad shoulders.
Yet he strived to ensure that The Times would continue to report the news without fear or favour.
To a 22-year-old cadet reporter, VK was a hero. He was the man you wanted to be.
Four years of sustained pressure from an unfriendly government, a management team centered on profit above all else, and a society which had showed its true colours would force this great, unsung hero of Fiji journalism into self-exile, sad and disillusioned.
“Sad because the country of my birth where my ancestors’ bones lie interred, no longer made me feel welcome,” he wrote several years later.
“Disillusioned because a nation once hailed as a peaceful paradise and a showcase for democracy and multiracial harmony turned out to be a purgatory for half its people.
“Beneath the veneer of a civilised and enlightened society lurked serious undercurrents of racial tension and hostility.”
A gifted wordsmith, his command of English – written and spoken – was without parallel.
His keen eyes would flick quickly through our stories – bashed onto pieces of copy paper using dilapidated typewriters. With a few deft flicks of the wrist, his pen would transform the mere ramblings of a cadet into polished prose which deserved to be read by the nation.
VK compelled his writers to read, research, constantly improve. He drove us to excel and demand nothing but the best from ourselves and each other.
An exacting task master, anything undeserving of a place in The Fiji Times was confined to his (extremely) large waste paper basket.
No words. The soft fluttering of the pieces of paper on their journey from desk to bin, the piercing gaze which engaged your very soul were enough.
You departed his presence, breathed deeply and started again.
Despite his national role, VK was a deeply private individual who knew that an editor’s life was, essentially, very lonely.
This was a necessity in order to ensure the integrity and independence of his office and the newspaper.
It was a quality often mistaken for aloofness in this kind and generous man who would do anything and everything for members of his staff.
The Fiji Times gave its staff a week off work on the death of a family member.
Returning to work after my father’s death in 1989, VK asked whether I was ready to resume duty.
Putting on a brave face, I answered in the affirmative.
VK looked into my soul and said: “Go home. Come back in three weeks.”
Some time later, standing before the great man whom I called Mr Kumar or Sir, he told me: “Look, call me Vijendra or VK. That’s what everyone here does – OK?”
My response – “Yes, sir.”
I can still hear his soft chuckle as the door closed behind me.
Om, Asato ma sadgayama
Tamaso ma, jyotirgamaya
Mrityorma amritam gamaya
Om, Shanti, Shanti
God lead me from the unreal to the real
Lead me from darkness to light
Lead me from the fear of death to the knowledge of immortality.
- Netani Rika is an award-winning journalist and co-owner of Islands Business magazine
