Passing Away Of IPA Columnist Sushil Kutty Is A Big Loss To Independent Media

By K Raveendran

Sushil Kutty

Sushil Kutty, who passed away on Sunday night, lived and wrote like a man apart — a loner in every sense, and yet deeply connected to the world through the force of his words. A regular columnist for the India Press Agency for the last ten years, Sushil was that rare journalist whose writing transcended political lines, winning admiration from across the ideological spectrum. He belonged to no camp, pledged loyalty to no doctrine, but carried within him a fierce and personal sense of politics — one shaped less by theory and more by life’s raw encounters.

To call him a ‘new generation’ writer would be to state the obvious, though in truth, he was one long before the term was coined. His prose was fluid, fearless, and unfailingly original — an effortless blend of precision and passion. Every Sushil Kutty piece had a certain rhythm, a conversational energy that drew readers in and left them richer, wiser, sometimes unsettled, but never bored. Few among his peers could match his range or his fluency. Whether dissecting political hypocrisy, recounting a tragedy, or describing a fashion show with unselfconscious curiosity, his pen moved with the same agility.

It was as a reporter that Sushil first made his mark. His coverage of the Meerut riots for The Indian Express in the turbulent eighties remains a benchmark in fearless reporting — a time when journalism was more about courage than convenience. Working in a communally charged atmosphere, he produced dispatches that were not only balanced and humane but also deeply insightful, capturing the fraught essence of those days.

But Sushil was never one to be confined by geography or genre. From the dusty lanes of Delhi, he moved to the gleaming city of Dubai, where he proved that even in tightly controlled spaces, journalism could still breathe. As a city reporter for Khaleej Times and later as Editor of UAE Digest, the Emirates’ only current affairs magazine then, he continued to write with honesty and verve. In an environment where many journalists walked on eggshells, he managed to produce stories that were both readable and real — a quiet rebellion against the idea that press freedom must bow to authority.

His professional journey also took him through some of India’s most respected publications — DNA, The Free Press Journal, and The Indian Express among them — leaving behind a body of work that spoke for itself, unlabelled and unembellished.

Sushil’s politics, like his prose, was intensely personal. He was never religious, yet he would not renounce the faith he was born into — a decision that cost him dearly. His refusal to convert to Islam while working in Dubai, despite the legal requirement that would have allowed him to live with his Muslim wife, became a defining moment. It marked the end of his family life, but not of his conviction. He chose integrity over comfort, solitude over compromise — choices that summed up the man he was.

Behind his easy humour and quick wit, Sushil carried a melancholy that only solitude could nurture. He was a man of few close companions but plenty of followers, a writer who understood that loneliness could be both burden and muse. In a profession increasingly crowded with noise and posturing, he remained disarmingly quiet — his rebellion was in the clarity of his thought, his refusal to bend, his insistence on writing as he saw, not as he was told to see.

Sushil Kutty’s passing leaves a silence that words can’t quite fill. He lived without pretence, wrote without fear, and walked his path alone — not because he wanted to be different, but because he could not be otherwise.

In the end, perhaps that was his greatest statement: that truth, when told in one’s own voice, is the only companionship a writer ever truly needs. (IPA Service)