A PETTY PERSONAL GRUDGE (November 12, 2011)

Until today, The Economist has published twenty-four of my letters to the editor. Of these, four have appeared in online editions only, two each in 2009 and 2010. This is a new newspaper feature, anyhow. The remainder has appeared in printed editions, which are much closer to my heart. Paper is paper, after all. At any rate, the first letter came out in 1999. The second in 2003. Each of the subsequent years, there had been at least two letters a year. And I had as many as four letters in 2008, my best year to date. Not that I am boasting, but the mighty newspapers is pretty mighty, indeed. Besides, the editor does not appear to suffer fools too gladly.

All in all, I have done well, and especially when one considers the very purpose of my letters. They have become a literary exercise with me, rather than letters to the editor as such. Over the years, they have helped me keep in touch with the world. As I am getting longer in the tooth, this is something that requires some faith, not to mention the effort involved. Besides, my letters pop up all over the World Wide Web. Published or not, they are posted and read by who knows how many. Keeping all this in mind, it is a joy to see them in The Economist from time to time.

But something has gone wrong this year. Badly wrong, too. The first letter that has made it into the mighty newspaper this year has appeared but today, only a fortnight short of a full year since the previous one (“Mind-Reading Technology: A Letter to The Economist,” November 2, 2011). And the twenty-fifth letter accepted by the editor has been edited so heavily that the original is barely recognizable in it. In fact, it has been no less than mangled. By and by, I am getting puzzled about my predicament. I know that I have been true to myself throughout this period. But has The Economist been true to itself, let alone its readers? That is, has the editor or someone close to this lofty office developed a petty personal grudge against my candid ravings? Not that it matters much, but I shudder at the very thought.