NOSTALGIA
Looking for the lost voices
S.K. VASISHTA
"WHERE are the sounds of the radio?" I asked myself when my six-year-old daughter accidentally flicked the two-in-one into radio mode. She was startled to hear a sea of undulating voices emerge from the system.
I realised that I had not really listened to the radio's moody, whimsical mischievous sounds for ages. It also struck me that the loss had been mine. The flat clear sounds of the TV and the predictable songs of the tape-recorder had drowned out the romance of the radio.
TV has put an end to Radio Ceylon, the ubiquitous Ameen Sayani and Binaca Geetmala, Sanforised ke Mehman, Cadbury Something ... all these programmes had been mesmerising. Getting clear sound on the highly crowded 25-metre bad was a challenge and when it did come through, it was a victory. And that was itself more than half the fun.
Then came Vividh Bharati, not to replace Radio Ceylon but to complement it. How we would wiat to hear the hour-long "Ek Film Ki Kahani". The sound would fade for endless seconds only to come back, much to our joy. We were glued to the transistor, turning it north, south, east, west, up, down, right, left - all possible directions cajoling it to come alive. Sometimes it even got a slap. But it was so necessary to get the voice; it was our voice. This is how we saw "Zindagi", "Aayi Milan ki Bela", "Dosti", "Kohra" and a whole of movies of the 1960s.
There were Delhi A and Delhi B. They were either filler or full time contestants. Can I ever forget Madhu Malti's mellifluous voice? It was as haunting as Noor Jahan's "awaaz de kahan hai" and Mubarak Begum's "kabhi tanhaiyon mein". There was "Jhalki at 2.00 p.m., Charanjeet's "Dhol ki pol", late night western classical music, Philip Nigam (Where are You?) with "A Date With You".
Urdu Service was such an ear opener. Anwar Anjum's sad voice, afternoon film songs, tamil-e-irshad, the endless repetition of particular songs from "Pakeezah", "Jewel Thief", "Johnny Mera Naam", the mischievous tete-e-tete of its host, so alive and different from the current VJs. All this is now buried in my memory.
Radio brought the whole world to my small cot. Radio Australia (ask if I miss Chakrapani?), Radio South Africa's delightful signature tune, the very essential Ratnakar Bharti on BBC, Voice of Germany, the distant Voice of America, the heavy military voice of Radio Moscow — where are they now?
Playing hide and seek with a transistor small enough to be hidden under your bed was a delight. Can you hide your TV under a quilt? Indeed the radio is a comfort while the TV only hurts your eyes. Can you enjoy Noor Jahan, Suraiya, Talat Mehmood, Pankaj Mallik on TV? And which TV gives you Bach, Mozart and Ravel? I still remember the day I got Ravel's "Bolero" on Delhi B - how transformed and complete the day was!
While the TV makes you it slave; the radio allows you so much imagination, so much freedom that it allows you to eat your cake and have it too.
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