H K Dua: Courage & warmth
- Roopinder Singh
- Mar 6
- 4 min read
Roopinder Singh
The editorial meeting at The Tribune was sacrosanct. It began at 11 a.m., and Editor-in-Chief H.K. Dua was never late. So, when the clock ticked past eleven one morning, we were puzzled.
When he finally walked in, he apologised, “I’m sorry I’m late.” Then, switching to Punjabi, he explained that some senior Army officers had come home and taken up his entire morning. The context was clear to us. The Tribune had recently published a report that was bound to embarrass a constitutional authority in Chandigarh, a former Army general. Curious, I asked him what the officers had said.
“They were speaking about the code of conduct,” he replied. “They insisted that no senior officer could violate it, and therefore the person concerned should be given the benefit of doubt.” In effect, they were offering a character certificate.
“My only response,” he told us quietly, “was that if any one of them wished to put his name to the statement they were making, I would be happy to publish it.” They stayed on for tea. The meeting ended amicably. No character certificate came, and we continued reporting with the same verve.
That was H.K. Dua — firm in conviction, soft-spoken in manner, and instinctively skilled at handling people. I had the privilege of serving with him throughout his tenure as Editor-in-Chief of The Tribune (2003-2010), a period marked by quiet but decisive change. By this time he had been Editor-in-Chief of the Hindustan Times (1987–94) and Editor-in-Chief of The Indian Express (1994–96). He was Media Advisor to Prime Ministers A B Vajpayee and H D Deve Gowda, served as India's Ambassador to Denmark. Later, he would be nominated to the Rajya Sabha.
When the French government imposed restrictions on wearing “visible symbols of religious identity” in government establishments and schools in 2004, Sikhs wearing turbans were affected. I wrote a fairly fiery editorial, which Dua supported. In time, we had a visit from French diplomats who sought to explain their position. Ever the diplomat, Dua Sahib, as I called him, included me in the meeting, listened to them, and never mentioned who had written the editorial. “The editorial is the Editor-in-Chief’s,” he would say. Later, I wrote an article explaining the issue, which evoked much interest.
The Tribune celebrated 125 years of its foundation in 2005, and then Prime Minister Manmohan Singh released a special supplement in Chandigarh. We all saw the warm relationship they shared. A postal stamp was also issued to mark the occasion.
Dua strengthened the paper’s national presence by hiring correspondents across India, pushing reporters, and launching new editions in Jalandhar and Gurgaon in 2005 and Bathinda in 2007. He supported and expanded the digital initiatives begun by his predecessor, the late Hari Jaisingh. He placed particular emphasis on improving the newspaper's visual appeal.
He was also keen to innovate. I recall when he summoned me and asked that we introduce Sudoku. “Numbers were never my strong suit,” I protested. He smiled and said, “I know you will find a way.” And somehow, we did. He had the rare ability to nudge people beyond their comfort zones, extracting from them more than they thought possible.
He was ably supported by a carefully chosen team, especially A.J. Philip, who knew the institution intimately, having steered it during the interregnum between Hari Jaisingh’s departure and Dua Sahib’s joining after his diplomatic assignment. There was a strong editorial team in The Tribune at the time, as this picture shows.
Chandigarh’s social landscape also changed when Mr Dua and Mrs Adity Dua began patronising cultural events in the city. They brought warmth and accessibility to public life. Looking back, what stands out is not merely the professional association but a relationship that outlasted his years in Chandigarh.
We remained in touch. Our phone conversations invariably began with, “How is Jaspreet?” and ended with, “Please convey my regards to your Mama.” Those courtesies revealed the man behind the public figure.
Whenever we went to the Khan Market area, I thought about Dua Sahib. He was never a part of the Khan Market circuit, though the geography played a role in his life. While beginning his career, he sometimes even slept in a UNI office there. Later, twice, as Media Advisor to the Prime Minister and as a Member of the Rajya Sabha, he lived officially not far away. Life had turned a full circle. Once, we reminisced about the fact that he lived in a house on Lodhi Road, behind the house my mother was allocated, but we did not know each other then.
Even after suffering a stroke, he maintained a disciplined routine, often visiting the India International Centre library to read his favourite newspapers. I have some pictures we took then, but I do not intend to post them. We would occasionally meet him there — alert, engaged, still deeply connected to public affairs.
On a personal note, he presided over the release of my book Guru Nanak: His Life and Teachings in Chandigarh. He proudly smiled as he sat with Mrs Dua and Hari Jaisingh when we released Sikh Heritage: Ethos and Relics in Delhi. He also recorded a gracious video message for my retirement. Those gestures remain precious.
H.K. Dua will be missed — as an editor of integrity and courage, and as a man of civility and warmth.
Note: A shorter version of this was published in The Tribune on 6 March 2026.
Beautifully crafted. Thank you Sir.