Vijendra Kumar was a giant in both the literal and figurative sense.
Born in Nadi and a teacher by profession, Kumar stood well over six feet tall. However, it was his inherent dignity and integrity that truly set him apart among Fiji’s editors following the military coup of 1987 and during the ensuing turbulent times for the media industry.
Fondly known as VK by colleagues at The Fiji Times, Kumar steered the newspaper through two coups, closure, and significant loss of revenue at great personal cost. He was abducted by armed soldiers in the middle of the night and suffered the indignity of interrogation by a former junior staff member over a grammatical error. Over a four-year period, he endured death threats and abuse with stoicism and a wry smile.
Kumar never complained as he stood between an adversarial government and his journalists, bearing every angry official rebuke on his broad shoulders. Despite these challenges, he was committed to ensuring that The Times continued to report the news without fear or favor.
To a 22-year-old cadet reporter, VK was a hero—the person you aspired to be. Four years of sustained pressure from an unfriendly government, a profit-centered management team, and a society that revealed its true colors forced this great, unsung hero of Fiji journalism into self-exile, leaving him sad and disillusioned.
“Sad because the country of my birth where my ancestors’ bones lie interred, no longer made me feel welcome,” he wrote several years later. “Disillusioned because a nation once hailed as a peaceful paradise and a showcase for democracy and multiracial harmony turned out to be a purgatory for half its people. Beneath the veneer of a civilized and enlightened society lurked serious undercurrents of racial tension and hostility.”
A gifted wordsmith, his command of English—both written and spoken—was unparalleled. His keen eyes would swiftly scan stories, transforming the mere ramblings of a cadet into polished prose worthy of national readership with just a few deft flicks of his pen. VK motivated his writers to read, research, and constantly improve. He drove them to excel and demand the best from themselves and each other. An exacting taskmaster, anything undeserving of publication in The Fiji Times was consigned to his large waste paper basket. No words were needed; the soft fluttering of paper from desk to bin and his piercing gaze sufficed. Writers would depart his presence, take a deep breath, and start again.
Despite his national role, VK was a deeply private individual who knew that an editor’s life was essentially lonely—a necessity to maintain the integrity and independence of his office and the newspaper. This quality was often mistaken for aloofness in a man who was genuinely kind and generous, doing everything he could for his staff.
The Fiji Times granted its staff a week off work on the death of a family member. When I returned to work after my father’s death in 1989, VK asked if I was ready to resume duty. Though I put on a brave face and affirmed, he looked into my soul and said, “Go home. Come back in three weeks.”
Some time later, he told me, “Look, call me Vijendra or VK. That’s what everyone here does—OK?” My response was, “Yes, sir.” I can still hear his soft chuckle as the door closed behind me.
Om, Asato ma sadgamaya
Tamaso ma, jyotirgamaya
Mrityorma, amritam gamaya
Om, Shanti, Shanti
God lead me from the unreal to the real
Lead me from darkness to light
Lead me from the fear of death to the knowledge of immortality.
– Netani Rika is an award-winning journalist and co-owner of Islands Business magazine