ISLAMABAD – Reed pens, ink bottles, stacks of papers — these are the firstthings you notice when you step into the computer-less office of *TheMusalman. *Aged a venerable 91, what is possibly the world’s onlyhandwritten newspaper (and the only one without a computer) shows no signsof signing off.
In its office in Chennai, a dark green visiting card bears the newspaper’sname and that of its editor, Sayed Arifullah, and lists the 13 degrees heholds.
Arifullah, in his mid-30s with a salt-and-pepper beard, exudes a casualconfidence. He has been at the helm for nearly 10 years now.
*The Musalman*, established in 1927, was started by Syed Azathulla,Arifullah’s grandfather, because “he felt there was no voice for Muslimsand there should be one.” Located in a small lane next to Chennai’s iconicWallajah Mosque, the office is a tight space with two rooms, one housingthe press and the other acting as reception area. “We are renovating, hencethe bustle,” he says.
Since its inception, the newspaper has seen three editors: Azathulla, hisson Syed Fazlullah and now, Arifullah. When I ask if he had always plannedto take over the reins from his father, he shrugs. “It was important thatthe newspaper be kept running and so I chose to do it. I edit, I write, andI run the paper now.”
Almost all the articles in the four-page broadsheet are selected byArifullah himself. He says he has reporters in different parts of thecountry, but the newspaper, much like *The Economist*, does not carrybylines. Around 10 every morning, two translators come in and set out thenews in Urdu. In the next two hours, the paper’s three calligraphers,called *katibs*, painstakingly write out each news item on to thebroadsheet using calligraphy pens in a Harry Potter-esque manner.
The calligraphy is really the soul of the paper. But with the advent oftechnology, the *katibs, *earlier employed in newspapers and Urdupublishing houses, have become redundant. The Industrial Training Institutein Srinagar, one of the last government institutes where Urdu calligraphywas taught, wound up the course last May because of no takers.
Finding skilled scribes is a challenge, Arifullah acknowledges, but he isquick to add that he isn’t looking yet. His scribes have been with thepaper for the past 30 years. “At that time, my father conducted calligraphytests, analysed their handwriting, and hired them. They have remained withus all these years — we’re like a family,” he says.
Once the laborious scripting is done, the advertisements are added and thepaper is set to the negative. It goes to print around 1 p.m. and reachesmost of its 21,000 readers by the evening. And it costs 75 paise. “It’s thecheapest paper in the country!” Arifulla quips dryly, his income comingfrom the press and not the paper.