M.R. SHIVANNA, a true 24/7 journalist, is dead

sans serif records with regret the passing away of M.R. SHIVANNA, an unsung hero of Indian journalism, in Mysore on Saturday. He was 55, and is survived by his wife and daughter.

For 30 years and more, Shivanna slogged away in remarkable obscurity and was one of the pillars on which stands India’s most successful English evening newspaper, Star of Mysore. Starting out as a sub-editor in the local tabloid, Shivanna, a son of a farmer, had grown to be editor of the family-owned SoM at the time of his death.

Shivanna was no poet. His prose wouldn’t set the Cauvery on fire, nor was it intended to.

First in at work and last man out of the office, he wrote simple functional sentences day after relentless day. While dozens of young men cut their teeth at Star of Mysore on their way to bigger things in Bangalore and beyond, Shivanna stayed on, lending his boss K.B. GANAPATHY the kind of quiet solidity every owner and editor can only envy.

Here, CHETAN KRISHNASWAMY, one of Shivanna’s myriad ex-colleagues, who moved from Star of Mysore on to Frontline, The Week and The Times of India, among other ports of call, pays tribute.




For decades, lakhs of Mysoreans have seen these three letters of the alphabet appended to thousands of news reports in Star of Mysore and Mysooru Mitra, Mysore’s dour media siblings, steered successfully by its founder-editor K.B. Ganapathy.

For most readers, these initials are a daily mystery, unravelled only in the anniversary issue of the two newspapers in February and March, respectively, when a mandatory “long-form” piece or an interview appears with the full form of the byline: M.R. Shivanna.

But for the remainder of the year, (MRS) was a byword for his straight, unaffected style.

As a journalist, Shivanna knew his limitations and that perhaps was his greatest strength. In a world of flamboyant story-tellers, he was the odd man out. Shorn of scholarly airs or intellectual pretensions, MRS pursued his vocation with a constancy of purpose, a fierce diligence that is rare in a profession where careerism has taken hold.

At times it seemed as if MRS literally lived in the newsroom, straddling two worlds, two sensibilities.

He finished his work at Star of Mysore, which is an English evening newspaper, in the afternoon, only to seamlessly drift to the other part of the building and discharge his duties at Mysooru Mitra, the Kannada morning daily form the same group.

You called the office at any unearthly hour, and more often than not MRS would pick up the phone, ready with pen on paper. A bulk of the information from across the districts was communicated over phone by a network of stringers and reporters, who spoke in varying  degrees  of clarity. MRS was an expert in tactfully prising out ‘news’ from these guys, night or day.

MRS was a 24×7 journalist before 24×7 became business jargon.


In 1990, just before taking up my journalism course, I ventured to work in Star of Mysore as a trainee.

K.B. Ganapathy, after a cursory chat, called in MRS and asked him to take me under his wing and put me through the paces.

At first glance, MRS was distinctly unimpressive: He was frail, he had a funny moustache, he tucked his shirt out, walked with a slouch and was staccato in his speech. He fobbed me off to his colleague at the desk, Nandini Srinivasan, who helped me tremendously through the early years.

Over a period of time, slowly, steadily I built some rapport with MRS. Sometimes he would call me out for an occasional smoke which I would readily accept in the hope of having a good conversation. But MRS would keep to himself and allow me to do all the talking, seldom proffering advice or insight, a genial smile displaying his tobacco-stained teeth.

There was a manic phase, of about a month or so, when I drank with him regularly at a fancy bar in Mysore. These sessions were unremarkable, almost matter-of-fact,  as MRS insisted that the Hindi music be played at an exceptionally high volume. There was no chance for exchange of ‘journalistic views’ leave alone banter.

Through the years in college, my association with Star and MRS continued. He would give me occasional assignments and background on stories that I was following.  Although writing in English did not come naturally to MRS, he honed it over the years through repeated practice.

His news reports were structured tightly in the classic “5 Ws and 1 H” formula, and it served him well.

There were reams and reams of buff paper on which he wrote with a cheap ball point pen that leaked, smudged and grew errant due to over use. He had this peculiar habit of bringing the nib close to his lips and blowing at it, like as if he was fanning a dying cigarette. He did that always, probably to fuel his pen’s fervor.

As an old-school journalist brought up on letter press, MRS also used and understood sub-editing notation better than most journalists. He used a red ink pen to underline a letter twice for capitalisation, a hurried swirl to denote deletion, “stet” if he wanted something to stay as is.

And for all his limitations with the language, if you were ever at a sudden loss for a word, those standard ones that you use to embellish journalistic copy, MRS would spout it in a second. The words swam in his head all the time.

Instinct and Intuition guided his journalistic disposition.

Passion and Persistence gave it  further ballast.


In 1993, “MRS” won the Karnataka Rajyothsava award. And as it happens in journalistic circles, there were whispers of how he had engineered it all, how it was a complete joke, how he was underserving, etc. MRS continued unfazed, doing what he did best, day after day after day. In due course, the tired critics went to sleep.

Many years later, at the Taj Lands End in Bombay, I hastened to the breakfast buffet for a quick bite before a conference. I had by then quit journalism to join Intel.

I heard a familiar “Hello, Chethu”.

I swung around to see MRS holding a bowl of fruits.

Over breakfast, he told me that Intel had flown him down to cover the event and simply amazed me with the information he had collected about the company’s latest products and plans. He kept jotting down notes verifying and cross-checking facts as we spoke. That evening we promised to get together but it didn’t happen.

During R.K .Laxman’s  last visit to Mysore about two years back, MRS took on the entire responsibility of hosting him in the City. Apart from ensuring that the Laxmans stayed in a friend’s hotel he organised their trip to Chamundi hills for an exclusive darshan. Laxman was profusely thankful to him during the visit.

On their last day in Mysore, MRS called me over the phone. He began with enquiring about my well being and slowly moved on to  a long conversation on Laxman’s perspective on various issues around him. I took the journalist’s bait and went with the flow filling him with facts, quotes, trivia.

I imagined MRS at his desk, his pen scribbling away on sheafs of paper, periodically blowing into his nib, probably conjuring the headline, the lead, the middle for his copy.

MRS will continue to write wherever he is. In the end, the smudges don’t matter really.

Also read: A song for an unsung hero: C.P. Chinnappa



Naresh Chandra Rajkhowa: journo who broke Dalai Lama story

Chari, a lens legend at The Hindu

Harishchandra Lachke: A pioneering cartoonist

T.N. Shanbag: Man who educated Bombay journos

Rajan Bala: cricket writer of cricket writers

Jyoti Sanyal: The language terrorist and teacher

Russy Karanjia: The bulldog of an editor

Sabina Sehgal Saikia: The resident food writer

M.G. Moinuddin: The self-taught newspaper designer


  1. ranganatha marakini

    proud, i also worked under him. RIP. Ranganatha Marakini

  2. nitin saxena

    Chetan, a well deserved tribute. It is an irony that we hardly know the scribes outside the major metros. The IFWJ sessions were the brighteners once. Not any more. Standards in journalism have gone down and people like MRS should be remembered by the new breed of journalists

  3. Kamal Gopinath

    Chetan, Excellent.

    I came in touch with MRS when as a Mass Com student at Mysore University I began penning a column ‘Campus Calling’ for now defunct English Weekly ‘Mysore Monitor’of the Star of Mysore group. Later, I had the good fortune of being associated with him as a fellow professional for nearly one and a half decades when I was the Staff Correspondent of The Indian Express at Mysore. I can never forget the innumerable occasions when MRS stood solidly by me during my heated interactions over many issues at various press conferences. This though, I was associated more closely Mysooru Mithra’s arch rival Andolana and its editor Mr.Rajashekara Koti. I have greatly albeit silently admired the tenacity with which MRS braved the Andolana onslaught in the battle for the Kannada journalistic turf of Mysore and surrounding regions. I had a ringside view of the battle owing to close proximity to Mr.Rajashekara Koti.

    Last I met MRS soon after the last Mahamasthakabisheka at Shravanabelagola at the SoM office premises at Mysore. An opportunity came my way to be a part of the SoM family after my stint as the Head of the International Media Centre attached to the Mutt for the Mahamasthakabhisheka Celebrations. I shared few minutes of quality time with MRS during which he made a strange comment ‘You do not know, Kamal, you have always been unlucky’. I have never quite understood what he meant by that to date though I am sure there are certain matters that guided the course of my life that I was not aware of and about which MRS knew but did not want to speak about then. Unfortunately though, I could not take up my assignment with SoM as the Bhattaraka at Sravanagelagola wanted me to stay on at the Shravanabelagola Mutt for a few more months and handle the post event publication requirements. Personal events that transpired later in shape of ailments to my aged parents took me out of Karnataka. Now on my return to Karnataka, after the death of my father and the departure of my mother to the USA to stay with my brother, I have a better appreciation of MRS brand of journalism, viewing it from my current assignment as a national Sr. Copy Writer for Magnum Intergrafiks, the Ad agency.

    Yet, it is a matter of regret that now I may never know what MRS meant by ‘Unlucky’…..

    MRS – RIP : You have carved a niche for yourself and Mysore will dearly miss you. Only you could be the stoic MRS, eternally under the shadow of Mr.K B Ganapathy, on the one hand, and Mr.Rajashekara Koti, on the other. I am sure both will miss you dearly, one for the pillar of strength that you were and another for the worthy adversary that you were.
    God Bless Your Soul.

  4. m s dinakar

    I debuted into Journalism via the Star of Mysore when M R Shivanna was its News Editor. Yes. He was a ‘true 24/7 journalist’. Though my stay with the SOM was brief, I left with unforgettable memories of having interacted with some exceptional professionals. M R Shivanna was one of the self-effacing personalities with a true ‘professional’ spirit and an open mind. He was ably assisted by a committed team of professionals as much as that team was ably guided by Shivanna. I should thank Mr K B Ganapathy – who gave me my first chance into journalism – for the opportunity that enabled me know SOM staffers including MRS. I have always remembered everyone of them and it is a real shock when I discovered that MRS is no more. Later, as a professional journo, I should have contacted my SOM friends but then we are all caught up in time-warping experiences.

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