Maybe, you’d call it a professional hazard – this immunity that one develops on the job with the passage of time. Not very long ago, I got a call from a colleague who informed me about an accident in the city. My first question to him was: “Boss, how many dead?” He replied that one person had died. “Oh, forget it... It’s just a news brief item,” I said and hung up.

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A close family member, who happened to overhear my conversation was aghast. “You journalists have no heart,” she snapped. Her words made me freeze with embarrassment and ponder over what she had just said.

And slowly, but surely, the reality of this relative’s words sunk in. With the passage of time, the journalist in me had lost humanity. One death had no shock value. Maybe, I thought to none other than myself, this is what dealing with crime stories day in and day out does to you.

My mind moved back to the days when I was just starting off as a crime reporter. I used to get calls from policemen or from colleagues informing about an accident, a murder... Somehow, each call used to send a chill down my spine.

As months passed, somewhere the immunity started to set in. The novelty of the job and the shock value of a crime, no matter how grisly, was lost on me. Besides, there were other ingredients that make you chase a story – the number of deaths, the profile of a rape victim or the rapist is what we, crime reporters, hunt for. The lower the profile, the lesser is the space allotted to a story. The only consolation here is that it’s not me who decides the order of importance; blame it on the job.

When I had joined the industry, a veteran in the field had asked me why I had chosen to take up journalism. A cliche it may sound, but I had replied: “To bring about change in society”. He smiled back and said “Well, you still have a lot to learn.”

Back then, his words sounded like loads of nonsense. Today, as I ponder, I see that those words do make a lot of sense now. We go to cover deaths, murders, suicides... and while we’re on the field, we’re busy chatting and laughing. Sadly, all this happens within hearing distance for the affected family. Inadvertent but insensitive. At times, people shoo us away, often we’re made to wait for hours on end. Pen and notepad in hand, scouting for that elusive quote or exclusive story doing our jobs, ever so heartlessly...