I met J Dey for the first time a year and a half ago at a workshop in Mumbai. I used to read his crime stories while working with other publications and always wanted to put a picture to the byline.
u00a0
And when I met him in person I was surprised to see a soft spoken man who was extremely polite and cordial.
After the first meeting, I would call him whenever in doubt on crime stories from Pune.


Nuzhat Aziz, City Editor, Pune MiD DAY

More often than not, I would call asking him to speak to some cop who was refusing to divulge information or give us a quote. And he would politely reply, "Yes m'am, I will check."

He was a man of few words. A man who let his work speak volumes.

I remember calling him on his day off with some personal work. A family member needed police protection and I also wanted advice on how to tackle a situation involving hardened criminals.

Dey told me calmly, "Ask them to call me." He actually went out of his way and met them and solved the problem.

There have been so many times I have told my reporters: Try and become like J Dey. Break stories like him. I now realise there can be only one Dey.

As I write this, I recall a couple of hours ago I was standing at Sangameshwar with my team where Nikhil Dixit and some of Dey's relatives came to immerse his ashes.

Maybe this was the kind of goodbye the quiet and reticent Dey would have wanted to have. With a heavy heart, we bid goodbye to the gentleman of the fourth estate.