The funniest thing about the closure of JS is that it hasn't really closed down. It is one of the best-kept secrets of Indian publishing, because, ever since the magazine stopped coming out in August 1977, it hasn't closed in people's minds.
I think it is incredible that it has survived in everyone's memories, and I still have people coming upto me and saying, "Why did JS close down?" and I say, "For you it obviously hasn't because you still remember it." They remember it vividly enough to ask me: "Do you recall that article you wrote?" or such-and-such-a-piece that Dubby did? I worked on these pieces, but even I can't remember them.
The important thing about JS wasn't its closure, but its impact. It is hard to describe what working on JS was like, but it certainly was a euphoric experience. There wasn't a single moment when you could sit back and think of what you were doing—it was one crazy, roller-coaster ride.
Initially, there were four of us working on JS: Papa Menon, Dubby Bhagat, myself, and of course, Desmond Doig, who was the great godfather. We were just out of college, I had just turned 20, and we did everything ourselves. In between writing and editing, we'd be lugging these huge zinc blocks around—we didn't even have a peon then. We used to work for fairly long hours, and for the first six weeks that I was employed there, I didn't even get paid! But that didn't seem to matter much.