Running a newspaper in small, far-flung towns like Mokokchung is no easy task. It often feels like a daily battle against limited resources, logistical constraints, and the shadow of larger media hubs. The major issues and political developments invariably unfold in Kohima and Dimapur, where the state’s attention remains fixed. Newsrooms in smaller towns, meanwhile, must work with fewer hands, less funding, and often without the comfort of modern facilities that larger media houses take for granted.
Yet, despite these challenges, the value of local journalism remains unmatched. There is a unique satisfaction in compiling a report of public importance and presenting it to the people who most need it. Few other professions can provide such a sense of purpose. For every small-town journalist, the reward is not in the glamour of breaking headlines but in the quiet reassurance that the community is better informed and more connected because of their work.
What distinguishes small-town journalism is its closeness to the people. Here, reporters are not just names on bylines; they are neighbours, friends, and fellow community members. This intimacy brings both trust and responsibility. A report on a road left unattended for years, a feature on farmers struggling every day, or coverage of student unions raising their voices may not stir interest in the corridors of Kohima, but they mean everything to the people who live the reality. Local journalism holds the mirror to society at its grassroots, ensuring that voices otherwise ignored find a place in public discourse.
The work is not without sacrifice. Journalists in Mokokchung often operate without steady salaries, relying on sheer dedication to keep the press alive. The temptation to move to bigger towns, or bigger media houses, where opportunities and recognition are more accessible, is always present. But many choose to stay back, committed to telling the stories of their people, knowing that if they do not, nobody else will.
Moreover, local journalism is also an exercise in resilience. It teaches how to make the most of limited resources, to balance community sensitivities while upholding truth, and to persevere in the face of indifference. While the spotlight may shine brighter on Kohima or Dimapur, the heartbeat of Nagaland lies equally in its smaller towns. It is here that local media quietly ensures that accountability, transparency, and information flow are not lost. An ideal society cannot exist without an informed citizenry. Newspapers and news channels, however modest, play a crucial role in that process. In towns like Mokokchung, their existence is not just a profession but a public service, deeply tied to the fabric of democracy.
The path is challenging, the resources few, but the purpose is noble. To tell the truth of the people, to document their struggles and triumphs, and to render news that matters are reasons enough for small-town journalism to endure. And in that endurance lies both its beauty and its strength. Small-town journalism is, in truth, the story of the community itself. However, in the end, journalism in small towns can thrive only when the community sees it as its own voice and nurtures it as such.