There is a story that General Pramod Saighal, HK Dua's brother-in-law, loves to tell. A young Dua, still a reporter finding his feet in Lutyens' Delhi, once gave a lift on his scooter to an obscure opposition member of Parliament (MP) named Atal Bihari Vajpayee. Mr Dua apparently wrote about it too, titling the piece, with characteristic wit, 'When Dua Took Atal for a Ride'. Years later, that same Mr Vajpayee would become prime minister and turn to Mr Dua as his media adviser. The wheel had come full circle — but the man on the scooter never really changed.
That, perhaps, is the best way to understand Hari Krishan (HK) Dua, who passed away on 4 March 2026 at a private hospital in Delhi, aged 88, after a brief illness. He was editor of the Hindustan Times (1987–94), editor-in-chief of the Indian Express (1994–96), editorial adviser at the Times of India (1997–98), and editor of The Tribune (2003–09) — four of India's most important newspapers, across four decades of turbulent public life. He was a Padma Bhushan recipient, India's ambassador to Denmark, a nominated member of the Rajya Sabha, a member of the national security advisory board, and twice president of the Editors' Guild of India (EGI).
And yet, if you spoke to the people who knew him best, none of these titles was what they remembered first.
Mr Dua's story begins not in any newsroom but in the chaos of Partition. Born on 1 July 1937 in Sargodha, in what is now Pakistan, he was barely ten years old when his family was swept up in the displacement of 1947. They crossed the border with, as Gen Saighal recalls, "just the clothes on their back." They settled in Gurgaon, where a young Hari Krishan studied under lamp posts, driven by the kind of quiet determination that does not announce itself.
He enrolled at Delhi University's Hindu College but left midway, not out of restlessness, but out of purpose. Journalism was where he wanted to be. He pursued a degree from Panjab University's journalism department, then based in Delhi, and faced the rejections that greet most young reporters with ambition and no connections.
His first job came at United News of India (UNI), whose office sat above Bahrisons Booksellers in Khan Market — as fine a beginning for a literary man as one could imagine.
From there, the career that unfolded was remarkable not just for its breadth but for its consistency of character. Whether in a newsroom, a diplomatic posting in Copenhagen, or the Upper House of Parliament, Mr Dua carried the same qualities with him: intellectual rigour, political independence, and a warmth that disarmed people across the spectrum.
His son Prashant, who survived him along with his wife Adity, remembers a father who took the pressures of journalism entirely in his stride, the late nights, the institutional battles, the weight of editorial decisions, without ever letting it diminish him at home.
"He always said that his first duty was always towards his readers," Prashant recalled. "He remained a wonderful father till the end. I still remember that no matter what time he returned home from work, he always dropped me to school. That was our time and nothing came in the way of that."
It is a small detail, but it says everything about the man. Mr Dua understood, instinctively, the difference between importance and self-importance — a distinction that eludes many who reach the heights he did.
Satish Kumar Bahl, who served as Mr Dua's secretary at the Hindustan Times for seven years, described him simply as 'a kind man, only interested in facts, and with a subtle sense of humour'. When Mr Dua was nominated to the Rajya Sabha years later, he sought Bahl out — then retired — and asked him to come back. "The next day I was back to being his secretary and I remained one till the day he passed away," Mr Bahl told Hindustan Times. "He was truly one of a kind."
Mr Dua's editorial career coincided with some of Indian journalism's most testing periods — the years following the Emergency, the rise of coalition politics, the liberalisation era, the turbulent late 1990s. Through it all, colleagues described him as someone who chose his convictions over convenience, who understood that an editor's authority came not from proximity to power but from distance from it.
Sucheta Dalal, Moneylife's managing editor, shared how Mr Dua's intervention stopped Times of India from publishing Harshad Mehta’s attempted comeback columns. The episode is well documented in 'The Scam' written by Ms Dalal and Debashis Basu, editor of Moneylife.
During his time at the Indian Express, Mr Dua was named media person of the year for 1994 by India Media. As general secretary and later president of the Editors' Guild of India, he was a consistent voice for press freedom and editorial independence.
As a member of the Rajya Sabha from 2009 to 2015, nominated by the Manmohan Singh government, he contributed substantively to debates on foreign affairs and national security — serving on the standing committee on foreign affairs and the consultative committee for the Union ministry of home affairs (MHA).
Beyond journalism and Parliament, he served on the National Security Council from 2008 to 2009. He received honorary doctorates from Punjab and Kurukshetra Universities, and was honoured with the Durga Ratan award and the Bal Gangadhar Tilak award for excellence in journalism, in addition to the Padma Bhushan conferred in 1998.
Congress president Mallikarjun Kharge called Mr Dua's passing the loss of someone whose "commitment to truth, editorial independence, and public service enriched public discourse."
Shashi Tharoor, never one to reach for an understatement when a precise one is available, put it simply: "A journalistic giant has left us."
The Editors' Guild of India, of which he was a former president, says he was "a vocal champion of media freedom and free speech" throughout a career that set the standard for others to follow.
What strikes those who knew him is how vital Mr Dua remained, even in his final years. He had suffered a stroke in 2024 that left his left side paralysed. And yet, till just a day before he was admitted to hospital three weeks before his death, he showed up every Saturday for the informal lunch at the India International Centre, his second home, where a guest was invited each week to discuss one issue or another over a meal.
It is difficult to think of a more fitting image of the man: still at the table, still curious, still engaged — the paralysis of the body no match for the aliveness of the mind.
His cremation took place on Thursday at Lodhi Road crematorium.
HK Dua represented something that Indian journalism urgently needs to remember: that the editor's chair is a position of public trust, not personal privilege. That independence is not a luxury for quiet times but a necessity in difficult ones. That a journalist's first duty — as Mr Dua himself said — is to the reader.
He came to India with nothing but the clothes on his back, studied under a lamp post, faced rejection after rejection, and built a life that touched the highest offices in the land — all without losing the straightforwardness of the young man who once gave an obscure MP a ride on his scooter through Lutyens' Delhi.
Indian journalism has lost one of its finest. A generation of editors, reporters, and readers is the poorer for it. But the standard he set, the integrity he modelled, and the warmth he carried with him through it all — those do not leave with him.
They are ours to carry forward.
Hari Krishan Dua, 1 July 1937 – 4 March 2026. May he rest in peace.
