It’s ten years since PARI was officially launched on December 20, 2014.
Our biggest achievement? We’re still here. An independent journalism website, surviving, even thriving in a media environment where corporate power is king. PARI now publishes daily in 15 languages. The main activity of a Trust that was formed with zero corpus, no government funds – sought or given – at all. No direct corporate grants or investments, no advertising revenue (by choice) and no subscription fee that would exclude large numbers of the very people we want to have reading, watching, listening to PARI. But built by a huge network of committed volunteers – journalists, techies, artists, academics, and more, with a significant share of skilled but free volunteer labour. And built on generous donations from the public, the trustees and from Foundations that have never sought to curb PARI’s independence.
Steered now by a sincere and super-diligent staff, the People’s Archive of Rural India is the one website that tries to report systematically from all of India’s roughly 95 natural-physical or historically evolved regions. The one journalism site wholly dedicated to rural India, to its close to 900 million people, their lives and livelihoods, their cultures, their close to 800 distinct languages. Committed to covering the everyday lives of everyday people. To telling the stories of nearly a billion human beings – since we strongly cover the very large numbers of rural migrants in urban India.
From the beginning, the founders were clear that we wanted to build a PARI that was both, a journalism site and a living, breathing archive. And that we wanted a site that practised a journalism informed not by the stale doctrinal cliches of a corporate-defined ‘professional’ media. But by the infusion of the rigour, knowledge and strengths of the humanities, sciences and importantly the social sciences. From Day One, we brought together not only highly experienced journalists on board, but also very knowledgeable non-journalists from these other streams.
That was and is a recipe for confusion, conflict, misunderstanding, argument (sometimes bitter), and eventually – extraordinary achievement. For all streams understood and agreed on this one principle: it will not be our voices that dominate content. It will be those of ordinary, everyday Indians. Our field protocols instruct all reporters to ensure it is people’s voices, not their own, that dominate the story. That we tell stories, and not issue bulletins or academic or bureaucratic reports. To the extent that we can, we even try to get farmers, forest dwellers, workers, weavers, fisherfolk, and people from myriad other livelihoods – to tell, even write their own stories. Perhaps even sing them.














