PG Mathai: He was a great human being with a sharp razor-like wit

This is one of life’s epiphanies: to write about a dear departed Editor of your magazine, who took this journalist under his wing at BusinessWorld many moons ago.

I first met PG Mathai in July 1993, a landmark year in our lives. We had got married in April that year; the Economic reforms unleashed by Prime Minister Narasimha Rao and Finance Minister Manmohan Singh in 1991 were beginning to bear fruit – Infosys went public in February 1993 (one of the first by an Indian company after Independence), and Indian skies were thrown open to private airlines. It was also the year when my journey in business journalism commenced with this magazine.

Mr. Mathai (or George/ Mathai as he was fondly called) was the Executive Editor of BusinessWorld (BW), then owned by the Ananda Bazar Patrika Group, which also had in its stable the storied business and finance newspaper, Business Standard (BS). His first image is still vivid in my memory. Asked by the then Editor-in-Chief of BW and BS, Mr. T.N. Ninan to interview me at PTI Building on Parliament Street, I found Mr. Mathai standing at the entrance to the magazine’s common edit room, right next to his desk. In his trademark short-sleeves bush shirt, never tucked in, grey trousers, and Kolhapuri sandals. One arm resting against the glass door from which dangled an ink-bludgeoned copy – his hand-written comments and edits on a filed story. The other hand with what was later the ubiquitous lit cigarette. His cherubic face met this green reporter with a warm smile, followed by a giggle, which was more a gurgle. That never changed as many times as I met him after that first time.

While there is so much that one learnt under the able guidance and tutelage of Mr. Mathai, there are some poignant stories that still act as powerful lessons. One of the first corporate stories I was doing (was meant to be an 800-word piece) was an analysis of a troubled 3-way pharmaceuticals joint venture where the local state government was a partner. I didn’t have the government’s viewpoint or comment. Of course, Mr. Mathai would not accept that. He waited for two issues of the magazine, before releasing the report. “No matter who you are writing about and analysing, everyone’s point of view or their denial of one has to be in the story”, he said. “We have to lay down everyone’s version, report, and let the reader decide their takeaways.” Rings true to this day, Mr. Mathai, and will, forever.

There are other stories that come to mind, including one which involved the deregulating Telecom industry. That was a large project that involved a bunch of us reporters from BW, as we needed to cover a number of private businessmen wanting to enter the sector, multinationals with their investments, as well as the central government and the bureaucrats. With the responsibility of the last lot coming to this reporter, getting to talk to the concerned Secretary was a piece of cake; he was always very welcoming, gregarious to a point but always available. Talking to the Central Minister was another story as every attempt was stonewalled. The resolute Mr. Mathai came to rescue. “Let’s land up at his place!” And we did. We were not allowed in for hours, but by late evening, the Minister’s OSD did usher us in for a 10-minute audience with his boss. We believe ours was the only publication that got that time with him.

That was the other side of Mr. Mathai. A lot of us believed that his primary role was editing the issue and putting it to bed. But that was only part of the story; he was a down-in-the-trenches correspondent and reporter.

But, before any of this, Mr. Mathai was a great human being first. Always soft-spoken, well-mannered but with a sharp razor-like wit. He was amongst the most self-effacing and sporting people I have ever met. He would shy away from taking any credit for the quality of the magazine produced every issue, and would laugh the loudest, especially when the fun was at his expense. For an all-staff offsite in Goa, yours truly missed the flight in the morning to Dabolim. When I disembarked from the next flight, I was amazed to find a car and chauffeur waiting, courtesy Mr. Mathai. That evening as we were by the beach and I was waddling around staring into the Arabian Sea, I heard a familiar baritone from behind: “I say, you are just like my son. Even he loves the sea and can keep standing by and staring at it.” While I would have been too old to be your son Mr. Mathai, I would have loved to be a younger sibling. Au revoir Mr. M, until we meet again…