On the language front, like many other controversies in the state, this one too polarised journalists. The United News of India news agency, though its then Goa correspondent Jagdish Wagh, then put out a 10-take article which echoed the Marathi side of the arguments. Rajan's first response was to dump it in the waste-paper basket. To one's mind, it made sense that both 'camps' knew each other's positions on the issue. Specially because this was one issue where the average Catholic reader -- who hardly reads Marathi -- was largely unable to keep abrest with the thoughts of one side of the debate. To Rajan's credit, he was quick to accept a suggestion from a junior, and decided that the article be carried on the edit page. But if one thought he did this because of the need for a diversity of voices, that was simply untrue. Some days later, a gleeful Rajan informed that it was just as well he had taken up that suggestion, since the UNI write-up had, in turn, provoked a series of lengthy polemical responses from the Panjim-based Konkani hardline supporter Datta Naik written to project the Konkani cause. It was a point-by-point attempted refutation, and more. A whole lot of more grist to the linguistic mill that ultimately served to build circulation, allowing Rajan to boost his bargaining power on this basis. If Rajan played a crucial role in stoking the language controversy, he was also vital in bringing it to an abrupt and unexpected end. On the day the language bill was passed in the Goa assembly, an angry Churchill Alemao stomped into the Herald office. He demanded to know how the screaming headline read something to the effect: 'Konkani made official language'. Alemao's criticism (with some validity, even if ironical in the backdrop of his own exclusivist approach which sought compltely illegitimise the Marathi demand, in what was in is more of a caste-defined battle) was that the headline was not justified when the dialect and script used by a small minority had been given official acceptance. Later realties also elaborately demonstrated that the Rane-Khalap drafted official language bill was extremely ambivalent, if not wholly unimplementable. Nobody knows for certain whether Goa has one or two official languages, or almost-official languages. Each official purpose for which it is to be used would have to be specifically notified, leading to further bickerings. Besides, almost everyone would like to leave the act unimplemented, since it would open up a can of worms and endless more problems if anyone went ahead implementing it. The official invitation cards, now printed in four languages -- English, Hindi, and Konkani and Marathi -- are enough of an indication of what a joke this has become.