Vijendra Kumar was a giant in both the literal and figurative sense. Born in Nadi and a teacher by profession, he stood well over six feet tall. However, it was his dignity and integrity that truly distinguished him among Fiji’s editors following the military coup of 1987 and the subsequent turbulent times for the media industry.
Kumar, fondly known as VK at The Fiji Times, guided the newspaper through two coups, its closure, and significant loss of revenue, often at great personal cost. Abducted by armed soldiers in the dead of night, he endured the indignity of interrogation by a former junior staff member over a grammatical error. For four years, he faced death threats and abuse with stoicism and a wry smile.
VK never complained as he stood between an adversarial government and his journalists, taking every angry official rebuke on his broad shoulders. His primary goal was to ensure that The Fiji Times continued to report the news without fear or favor.
To a 22-year-old cadet reporter, VK was a hero and a figure to emulate. Nonetheless, four years of continual pressure from a hostile government, a management team focused on profit, and a society revealing its true colors eventually forced this unsung hero of Fiji journalism into self-exile. He left, 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, VK’s command of English—both written and spoken—was unparalleled. His keen eyes could quickly scan through stories typed onto pieces of copy paper using worn-out typewriters. With a few deft strokes of the pen, he transformed a cadet’s ramblings into polished prose deserving to be read by the nation.
VK compelled his writers to read, research, and constantly improve, driving them to excel and demand the best from themselves and each other. As an exacting taskmaster, anything unworthy of The Fiji Times was dispatched to his extremely large waste paper basket without a word. The soft fluttering of rejected pieces of paper and his piercing gaze were enough to drive one to start again.
Although he played a national role, VK was a deeply private individual who understood that an editor’s life was inherently lonely to maintain the integrity and independence of his office and the newspaper. Often mistaken for aloofness, this quality was intrinsic in a kind and generous man who would do anything 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. Putting on a brave face, I answered affirmatively. VK looked into my soul and merely said, “Go home. Come back in three weeks.”
Some time later, standing before the man I called Mr. Kumar or Sir, he told me, “Look, call me Vijendra or VK. That’s what everyone here does—OK?” My response: “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.