Building a case for the humble, lowly shorthand
Taru Bahl -
Thursday, November 20, 2008 9:12 AM
On a recent field trip I had the chance to meet a young journalist from The Times in London. Every time we interacted with members of the local community, out would come her little note pad. Seeing the scribbly scrawly characters, I asked incredulously, “is this shorthand?” and she said “yes, its handy, isn’t it? While both of us were using digital recorders too and were still preferring to take notes, mine were in long hand interspersed with short forms which only I could understand, hers were in pure shorthand.
Later when I did see her story in the Times, I was surprised at the way in which she had registered all the little details from our numerous interactions and conversations with different sets of people. Shorthand she told me was a pre requisite in journalism schools back home in the UK. And although over the last few years, much debate had ensued over the relevance of learning it, especially for a tech-savvy young breed of journalists who can choose from a range of digital devices, it still emerged as the preferred option (both at journalism schools and with reporters) who found it safer, easier and faster to refer to notepads than go through the cumbersome procedure of rewinding, transcribing and typing out details from a digital device. Also, she pointed out, it is stressful, since one is usually battling deadlines and hand made notes are far easier to deal with.
Call it a bias or mindset issue, there seems to be a cultural thing when it comes to shorthand use in journalism. Media schools in the US have long since ditched it in favour of higher educational degrees, not wishing to sacrifice a course in economics or math or history or reporting in place of a course in shorthand. Britain’s National Union of Journalists on the other hand insist that most journalism jobs should have shorthand as an academic qualification and most print journalism degree programmes do insist on shorthand skills of 100 words per minute.
I checked with a professor at the Indian School of Mass Communication (IIMC) in Delhi whether they have shorthand in their curricula. He said that it used to be an option about a decade ago, but it just died its own natural death and nobody really missed it. He added, “the only people who use shorthand now must be secretaries and P.As (personal assistants in government offices) and that too decreasingly so.”
I remember an interview that I had to take of super cop Kiran Bedi many years ago aboard the Delhi-Chandigarh Shatabdi Express. Her look of displeasure the moment she saw my note pad was evident. After a few minutes she couldn’t resist asking, “where is your dictaphone?” I mumbled, “I wasn’t prepared for this last minute interview and am afraid am not carrying one.” Unconvinced she proceeded to add, “you are a journalist. You never know when you might need it. It should be on your person all the time. Besides, you are bound to miss some of what I am saying and even if you do capture most of it, I don’t feel connected enough, minus the crucial eye contact that is necessary for a conversation to be truly freewheeling.”
Thereafter, the dictaphone I always carry in my bag, but shorthand? Well maybe I will try taking a few lessons on it. Surely, it will be a handy skill, even if not an essential tool.