Crash and the Blast

I woke up disturbed that Saturday morning. It was partly to do with less sleep and partly to the movie I was watching on friday evening. Crash- the movie which won several awards including Oscars is very provocative and sensitive at the same time. It stirs something very basic inside you ….questions the stereotypes we built around us in a multi ethnic society …and leaves many questions unanswered. The movie follows few characters living in Los Angles in a span of 36 hours and chronicles the racial tensions , their volatile interactions and their struggles to come out of the distrust and fear of one another. It searches the grey area between the victim and aggressor , black and white ….where there are no permanently right answers and people collide into each others’ lives helplessly playing both victim and aggressor simultaneously. The images were still fresh in my mind next morning. Though the movie is about post 9/11 America the comparison with any multi ethnic society comes naturally.
To lighten up my mood I decided to go round the markets. Not for any real shopping but just to come out of the gloom and fill in myself with more pleasant smells and sounds than a bullet shot. But it was not to be so ….half way into a south Delhi market I got a desperate call form my husband to come back. There was yet another Saturday bomb blast in Delhi. This time in Mehrauli. Once again killing several innocent people including a child who lend an innocent helping hand to the bombers by trying to pick the tiffin case in which bomb was planted. The news means several things to me. My weekly shopping at nearby mall goes for a six. My husband will be late from work-as his news channel would be following the blast and after blast coverage till midnight and my dear friend Rani would be patrolling the Delhi roads with her policemen whole night to prevent any further mishap. More than these a sad taste will cover over our weekend . In brief a weekend wasted for no fault of any of us.
On my way home the crash images again started flashing in my mind. Its the same distrust and fear that is seeping in our society too. Hindus fearing Muslims, Muslims fearing Hindus, Dalits fearing upper castes ,Biharis fearing Marathis and so on. Anyone can put a bomb anywhere in Indian cities . We have just too many crowed public places to protect. So far after a blast the city resumes its normal pace within few days …in a very helpless , very resigned way . But the images never fade in the mind. With each such incident the level of distrust goes higher and higher . With all these recent bombings by Muslim hardliners, are we not going to lose all trust on Muslims-all Muslims, though we know that most of them are innocent victims of these mishaps like rest of us. But how to distinguish between the two groups . As a friend commented the other day , if anyone is planting a bomb in a children’s park- there is only one explanation . There is mind that is mad! No amount of brainwashing, philosophy of Jihad , poverty or lack of education can justify this act. Its unfortunate that intolerance between groups is increasing day by day. In my growing up years we were hardly conscious of the other person’s caste or religion…but no more now. The defining limits of Hindu and Muslim clusters are getting more and more distinct. Its very unfortunate that several secular features of language and arts are also getting religious-ised . The Ganga Jamuni culture of Hindustan is almost lost . What is worse is that we always find reasons to spread hatred against each other . Its not only Hindu-Muslim, There are also regional, castist and ethnic colours of hatred and terror .
What cause one an serve with such random killings . Its such a waste of human life and effort . The future seems rather gloomy . It appears that soon we would be suspecting each stranger in the vicinity and no unknown face will get friendly smile from the neighbours and colleagues .I feel very upset and aggrieved with these changes . How are we going to survive with such ridiculously low tolerance and respect for one another? After all , moving with the speed of life…we are bound to collide into each other .

We must kill Mickey Mouse!

If you are shocked by the title of this post please read this news item . Mickey Mouse must die for the good of Islam, a leading Saudi cleric said last month in a broadcast on al-Majd TV. This same cleric on August 10 had denounced the Beijing Olympics as the "bikini Olympics," saying the immodest dress of women athletes was "satanic" and issued a fatwa against women's participation in the Olympics as the games were also "satanic". In 2005 he denounced soccer, saying the short pants worn by players "reveal nakedness." He called for a ban on women's sports and public exercise as to do so would require them to don "tight fitting, short" tunics that were offensive to Muslim decorum.
In the present case he was actually asked to state the Islamic legal teaching on mice. He responded that mice were called "little corrupters" in Sharia and it was permissible to kill them at all times. "The mouse is one of Satan's soldiers and is steered by him," he explained, adding that should a mouse come in contact with food, the food must be disposed of as the mouse is an impure creature. "According to Islamic law, the mouse is a repulsive, corrupting creature," he said, adding that he was concerned that popular culture had given mice an undeserved positive image. "How do you think children view mice today - after Tom and Jerry?" he asked. "Even creatures that are repulsive by nature, by logic, and according to Islamic law have become wonderful and are loved by children. Even mice. Mickey Mouse has become an awesome character, even though according to Islamic law, Mickey Mouse should be killed in all cases."
I know nothing about Sharia or any other law but I know a lot about ‘Tom and Jerry’ , Mickey mouse and other cartoon characters. A devoted viewer of cartoons I feel they are the highest form of creativity in today’s media world. I came to know about this fatwa on Mickey mouse through my husband, who in the news room of his TV channel accidentally come across this wire. This ‘news’ was received in the news room with much amusement and everybody laughed at the issue…everybody except one colleague of his. This fellow argued that the cleric is asking for the right thing – for wrong reasons. He agreed with the rest that such ridiculous interpretation of any scripture is foolish but argued that Mickey mouse and the entire gang of cartoon characters are responsible for erasing local and regional flavours of upbringing of children. His arguement does have some strength . There are very good attempts these days to tell children about our cultural characters like Hanuman, Tenali raman and Gopal Bhand etc through their ‘disney-isation’ . How true are these animated versions to the folk tales they are claim to be originated from? Don’t you feel that animated avatars of chota Birbal, Tenali raman and Hanuman do the same stunts as Aladdin and Mickey mouse?For that matter Disney’s Aladdin is also miles away from the original character from Arabian Nights . Stories for these are mostly written for American kids and they are full of contemporary American notions . Disney on its side is trying to enhance local elements in its characters. Disney princesses are no longer always blonde with blue eyes and their characters at times speak with different accents. But is this enough? Despite being a die-hard fan of animations and all these Disney creations I can not acquit them from the charge of killing our local culture.
On second thoughts …is it Disney or is it market ? Market which ensures that world over kids eat similar potato chips , drink same soft drinks and watch similar sitcoms. Market which ensures that all popular English (read American ) sitcoms are available in their Hindi versions too. No not through dubbing ….an entire new series with Indian faces and Indian setup but with the copied concept and script. Let us face the truth – these are a hit with their targeted clientele . These animated versions are cute and there is a lot of creativity in the series also . No wonder kids are wearing Harry Potter T shirts and cuddling Chota-hanuman ‘ stuff toys with equal fondness . Even Indianised version of Batman and Superman- Krrish and Shaktiman go well with the children…even when they are selling biscuits and chewing gums through advertisements . So is it a good bargain that our kids know about our mythical characters but only through a Disney filter? More importantly can we stop the forces of globalisation to make everything-including our myths, history and folktales, as they deem fit. I really have no answer for that. I strongly feel that Mickey mouse should not be killed but should Mickey meet T-shirt wearing Hanuman in Akbar’s court …..I really don’t think that is a good idea either.

PS: If you wish to read more about my views on animations in India from the industry point of view read this article .

The sophisticated sychophant

"... this man, who has crawled and crept through life, wounding the hands he licked, and biting those he fawned upon: this sycophant, who never knew what honour, truth, or courage meant...

— Charles Dickens, Barnaby Rudge, Ch. 43

Its not that there are no such people in other organisations , sectors and places but just that I encounter this species most in Delhi. They are found everywhere - in all age groups and in all surroundings. What distinguishes them so distinctly is a very polite gesture on face(nearly always) and a wish to please . They call it courtesy , I call it sycophancy . In action what they do is nothing unusual, its the reason why they do so makes all the difference. I find it strange that if someone has died in the family of a service officer I hardly know why should I go and convey my condolences , or if a BIG boss( with whom i hardly meet otherwise) has got a further promotion I should I take an appointment to congratulate him/her. But many others do it as ' a matter of courtesy'. I am even fine with this courtesy bit if it is genuine. But how do you justify the reaction if it is exactly opposite of what they really think. You hate the person , call him a blood sucker and such other words but would not mind going to him with a bouquet in hand on his birthday or promotion.

Now the big question- or as I said, the element making it sycophancy is the reason . I feel( though everyone vehemently decline ) its for career goodies, business promotion and in general keeping superiors in 'good humour' . Its so strange that when one joins a profession one feels he/she can rely on his/her skills and competency but within few years even the so called smart ones start believing in factors which can be loosely clubbed in the category of sophisticated sycophancy. For some it is so much a matter of habit that they do not even realise that they are going overboard . I too face it with my subordinates . Imagine after the lousiest presentation of my life this young officer comes to my room and request for a copy of the most 'wonderful presentation he has ever seen'. I need not even look at his face . His words betray their meaning . The tone is all made up and the only intention is to get noticed .
Have you ever noticed what are the commandments in a sycophant's world? Let me list out few- the sirs always right and the ma'am always give very appropriate advices. They always have very bright ideas on everything from gardening to parenting and from governance to global warming. Bosses always have the best taste in music and wine and their offspring are lovely little angels even if they break your car's window while playing . Dare you contradict them- how foolish! how very uncool ! Argument with a superior on anything related/unrelated with work......nah ...that's blasphemy .
These days I wonder whether all these tricks pay off in the end. My answer is yes and no . Yes if the person you are trying to please is also as dumb as you'd like him to be and no , if he has a better discretion. I would still feel that if a superior falls for such false praise and respect he is not worthy of any real one. Why should I lower my dignity to cater such a person's ego?After all those who are worth praise and respect would see through these rituals easily . One always come across stories of people who got a plush posting or some other 'goody' by being his boss's slave but I don't feel that so far I fared badly by speaking my mind , not indulging in such rituals of praise and even differing with bosses also . In fact I was lucky to find bosses who even after fighting with me on work related issues always rated me high in performance appraisals. I can say this with some certainty as I too as a boss can not think too positive of people who do not miss a single occasion of praising me , my dress, my way of working and of all things...my handwriting!! At times I feel sorry for the celebrities and people on top of their fields of work . There are of course people who despite attaining great heights lack great depths (in fact they form the majority )but for the rest what a torture it must be to always be on guard against such false compliments and admirers.
Last week after another round of promotions of bigwigs of our department when a colleague asked me if I would care to come on a 'mission congratulations' to a big boss I told her to ask the old man on my behalf how is the scene from up there . How many bald heads he can see from the top? She was obviously scandalised by my response .

Learning Unlearning and all that …..

The illiterate of the 21st century will not be those who cannot read and write, but those who cannot learn, unlearn, and relearn.
Alvin Toffler
Yesterday sitting in an interview board of Staff selection Commission I met with about a dozen such illiterates holding degrees from some of the well known Universities/colleges. How would you react if a first class masters’ degree holder from University of Delhi for English (hon) failed to recite a single poem of Shakespeare..or Keats…or Shelly ? The chairman of my board, a retired bureaucrat , was not much shocked with the blank and confused look of the interviewee . I am sure he must have seen a lot more such samples during his thirty odd years in the government. But with just 8 years of experience , I found it difficult to believe as among the interviewees we had History graduates unable to tell the significance of 1707 AD as the beginning year for –Modern Indian History. There were people working as tax assistants unable to distinguish between direct and indirect taxes and MBAs (shockingly from my own university) who could not explain two factor theory of motivation . Probably one can let go of ignorance about theoretical aspects of a subject studied but how do you ignore the poor language skills? Or ignorance about the world around us ? All candidates were using terms like naxalites, Maoists, insurgency, terrorism, fundamentalist organisation loosely. Neither they knew the difference between these nor were they aware of its correct usage. Another senior professor on the interview board informed me that the situation is almost similar even in Civil services interviews. His reading was that one can get most degrees without much knowledge of the subject or command over the medium of instruction . I can’t blame it to students. Most of them were from small towns and were trying hard to break the ceiling between Bharatand India . If some of my friends are to be believed , in corporate sector too there is acute shortage of qualified staff . My sister informs me that in big IT firms we have engineers on roll who don’t know even the most elementary logic and in my own office I find Hindi translators with abysmal knowledge of the language .
My first reaction was of disbelief followed by anger …..gradually I realised it is not surprising at all. Where is the scope for imagination? Of taking interest in a subject ? Of learning for learning sake ? It is simply a stepping stone to get into a secure livelihood . Don’t you come across students ‘preparing for competitions’ asking about which subjects are ‘in’ and are considered scoring these days . You get to meet parents of school going children inquiring about which branch has better chances of getting a job. We have our school boards making examination patterns more and more objective to ensure less stress , better marks and …err..poor language and expression skills for students . We also have our syllabus designed by barely eligible educationists. Years back I found a classic case in this regard when my father started teaching English to our Milkman’s son who was doing his 10th from UP Borad with Agriculture stream. The boy was totally disinterested in opening the book . My father diagnosed the problem after a while . The prose and poetry chosen for his compulsory English textbook was devoid of any sensitivity to his surroundings. A village boy of UP studying amidst poverty and illiteracy of elders was to go through essays about English Parishes, Wordsworth’s Lucy Grey and even ‘La belle dam sans merci’ to learn a language still foreign to him. Things and scenes explained there were so strange to him that they hardly made any sense to his mind. My father was so agitated that he started compiling a book for this boy’s reading which included stories by RK Narayan, Ruskin Bond and poems of Sarojini Naidu. The boy found this interesting. But to pass his exam , he still had to mug up the ‘foren’ poems and texts with which he can’t relate to . The teacher of their school was also a fresh graduate quite uncomfortable in English and a product of the same system. Naturally like all other classmates he was keen to take refuge of ‘guidebooks’ written in awful language and ‘key books’ and guess papers . All his friends were just mugging up part of these booklets to ensure passing marks – for most of them no doors of jobs will open without mandatory school degrees and school degrees will not be obtained without resorting to these horrid keybooks and guessbooks. Many would not even buy the original textbook to save some money. What knowledge of subject we can expect from these kids in future?
This is not only for village students , even my colleagues complain that their kids studying in best public schools are discouraged to innovate while solving maths sum. They have to ‘learn by heart’ even the explanations of poems and steps of maths equations solving. No scope for expression even in literature subjects and no question of deviation in solving mathematics. On our word processors we have spell checks to ensure correct spellings and tools to ensure correct grammar. There are interactive TV channels to help them with homework and still the quality of education from school to college is nose-diving . Degrees like MBAs, MCAs and engineering are available from Never-Heard-Before institutes and hordes of our young men and women are making big with international companies. I am not for ridiculing these youngsters. They are simply a product of their education system and surroundings . It is the same culture that forces our young sales executives to speak in English and wear ties in the hot summer days to ‘make an impression’ while selling goods…however uncomfortable it makes them . But next time you found the call centre executive faltering on a well rehearsed sentence or speaking nonsense – think about it seriously. Its about time we take a serious note on our education system. We must take our kids out of the obsession for marks catching techniques and encourage them to the good old ways of learning rather than just acquiring paper degrees . Or else let us be prepared to face a situation (already there in many government sector offices) where we have workers incapable of understanding the work assigned to them for want of elementary knowledge of the field .

Yarrows forever ...

It is beautiful. It is majestic. It is endlessly, effortlessly charming. And more than all that — it is home.

This place resists the rush of time, holding its ground with a quiet dignity — and thank heavens for that. It is a stillness caught mid-river, a droplet of memory suspended in the flow of years, nestled among the ageless Shivalik ranges of the Himalayas. Generations of officers have walked these paths before me — calling Yarrows not just an alma mater, but a place of belonging. A place you fall in love with at first sight… and then again, and again, each time your eyes meet its familiar curves and corners.

I return now, after three years, wearing a different hat, carrying new responsibilities. But ever since this journey was set in motion, the work has remained a faint echo. What filled my heart was something else entirely — the quiet pull of remembrance. Shimla — a city that wears all its seasons like jewels. And Yarrows — our royal refuge, resting like an old soul above it all.

It’s almost impossible to count the things I miss about Yarrows once I’m out in the vast, hurried world. I miss the serene Buddha beneath the walnut tree, smiling gently at all who pass. I miss the camellia bush, on the cusp of bloom — each bud a whispered promise of spring. I miss the hush of twilight as it slides behind the pines, and the nostalgic chuk-chuk of the toy train tracing its path through the Glen Valley like a memory come to life.

But more than sights and sounds, I miss the feeling — the cocoon of comfort that wrapped around me during my probation days. The laughter echoing down corridors, the friendships forged in quiet corners, the unhurried walks to Annandale and the grandeur of the Viceregal Lodge. And above all, my own little universe within Yarrows — Room No. 11 — still etched in memory like the warm glow of a lamp left on for you.

When we first arrived here, tales of Mr. Jinnah’s ghost were passed on to us — half in jest, half in wonder. A ghost in a hill cottage is always welcome, almost a status symbol for any house worthy of a place in the history books. And surely, Yarrows deserves one.

Mr. Jinnah’s stature does suit the grandeur of Yarrows. But then, one might ask — why would his ghost choose this faraway home to haunt? Of course, this was once his summer retreat, and it is said he spent his honeymoon here with his beautiful wife, Ruttie. But he lived in many more splendid houses during his lifetime. If his spirit visits Yarrows, I imagine it’s only occasionally — drawn by the warmth of those happy days long gone.

More likely, though, it is the ghosts of our own kind — the old boys and girls of my service — who return here. Drawn by the memories, by the magic that once lit up their lives.

And once at Yarrows, what else is one supposed to do but sit by the window and soak it all in — the stately deodars swaying gently in the breeze, the sun weaving patterns through clouds, the mountain flowers blooming with casual brilliance. If that’s not enough, a walk is always an option — even at midnight. After all, Yarrows is just ten minutes from the Viceregal Lodge, once home to the Viceroys of India.

Another ritual from my Yarrows years — “mall-ing.” That is, going to the Mall Road. We did it religiously, every other day. The Mall, Scandal Point, the Ridge, and the ever-beautiful Christ Church — that was our pilgrim’s route. And of course, no pilgrimage was complete without the customary stops: Baljees for hot gulab jamuns, Devicos for snacks, and Beekays for soups and pizzas.

It’s impossible not to feel nostalgic in Shimla. Every building has a history, every corner a tale. At every turn, I feel the presence of Rudyard Kipling and his poetry. Every view reminds me of a similar one from a time when India was ruled from this town.

About halfway between Yarrows and the Mall stands one of the most impressive castles in town (well, second most impressive — after the Viceregal Lodge): Gorton Castle. It houses our Shimla Office and looks like something straight out of Harry Potter — a perfect biscuit-tin picture.

Then there’s the Retreat, Knockdrin, Kennedy House, Observatory Hill, Strawberry Hill... so many places to visit and admire. There’s really nothing better than walking. For those who’ve read Rajaa Bhasin’s wonderful book on Shimla, the city becomes a living museum — where every step links you to history.

I can spend hours at the Viceregal Lodge — simply sitting and admiring. It’s a pity they still don’t offer a full-fledged tour for visitors. The place is brimming with history’s mysteries — some true, others spun with imagination. And the romance of it all is magnified by the lovely weather.

Shimla is beautiful in every season, every month — but I love it most when the valley is wrapped in a white robe of clouds. Except for a few winter days, the weather is always pleasant. No wonder the British felt so at home here. “Like meat, we keep better here [in the hills],” wrote Emily Eden. I would paraphrase that for Yarrows probationers: “Like apple blossoms, we bloom naturally over here.”

The probationers — God bless them — are always the same. It’s such fun to meet these ‘owner-residents’ of Yarrows. It’s a pity that this air of confidence, that twinkle of intelligence in their eyes, combined with a blessed ignorance of the world outside, will slowly fade once they leave. But perhaps that’s just life. We learn, and unlearn, to find the right balance.

Today, I heard a horrid suggestion — that Yarrows should be taken away from probationers. Apparently, some committee of architects and conservators found fault with the furnishings and the structure, saying it doesn’t “gel” with the building’s heritage.But who can explain to them that this is not just a heritage building? This is our home. We love its imperfections as much as one loves one’s mother — even if she has buckteeth.

And when I’m at a loss for words to express what Yarrows means to me, I borrow from the Beatles. So here I go again:

There are places I’ll remember
All my life, though some have changed.
Some forever, not for better,
Some have gone and some remain.
All these places have their moments
With lovers and friends I still can recall.
Some are dead and some are living —
In my life, I’ve loved them all.

The Story of Stuff

It was nothing less than a paradigm shift for us. We entered our Kolkata home with just 2 chairs , 3 what-nots and 3 book racks in it . We left it yesterday with only these articles….and before I forget to mention, in between there were 56 cartons of what can generally termed as ‘stuff’ created in last 4 years and which was sent with movers and packers yesterday morning. It was unbelievable. How and when we managed to surround ourselves with so much clutter. While packing I found half a dozen picture frames of all sizes , about 10 pen set (never used) , bed sheets we didn’t recall buying, books we never read and even cutlery sets and silver bowls for which we have no use in decades . To begin with we had a big house and nothing to fill it with and today we desperately hope to get a bigger house to fit in our ‘stuff’ . The best part about this stuff is that one never realizes when it is growing around you and one fine day, when you feel it is time to clear up the clutter , each article looks so useful and so beautiful.
Inspired by a very thought provoking documentary narrated by Anne Leonard called ‘The story of Stuff’ my friend Rani has stopped buying things…specially clothes. I admire her determination but feel weak at heart whenever I find myself surrounded by beautiful things in a store. My wishlist of articles to get never gets smaller. In fact I thank God that I don’t have enough money to buy all the things I desire to get or else the situation would have been worse. Shopping undoubtedly is a panacea for many a ills . It can cure boredom, depression and even anger . It calms down the mind and distract attention like magic. But the outcome of such shopping sprees is disastrous. I always end up buying things I don’t need . Long back my former boss gave us the a sane advice of not buying books to read them. He gave example of his own life where he has so far donated about 10000 books as he was unable to carry the load from one transfer to another. But with transfer veterans like me this sounds rather funny. Well, if you count all the times I had to shift my belongings since childhood , it would be not less than 12. And we really liked ‘to carry our world with us’ on these transfers. Papa’s favorite cacti and mummy’s carefully grown pots included. I recall these incidents (much to the amusement of my husband) that truck was stopped midway to water the plants . We did manage well despite absence of professional movers and packers in those days. Since packing was mostly done by either family members or by domestic helps, it was an arduous exercise involving decision of what to go where , making lists(in two copies) for each box and numbering of boxes. For all you know the unpacking may take a while(due to non availability of Government quarters) and you may have to hunt for one particular item in between. But despite these precautions , true to the Murphy’s law of Packing , the item you need most urgently was always in the last box in the most inaccessible corner. These boxes(mostly wooden) were a permanent feature of our garages during the period of our stay at a place. They will be again called for when the next transfer was announced . But even with those amateur techniques there were very few casualties of packing-unpacking . Now imagine,talking of leaving books behind....I still have my comics in tact with me after 7-8 shifting since the days I read them last . Even the china and ceramics in my parents house are transfer veterans …and still in tact .
The story of our stuff in this present transfer episode is still only half told. The unpacking is yet to start and I can foresee all the vacant corners and the shining floor tiles disappearing under the furniture .But then this is the fun of transfers- it gives you an opportunity to rearrange your world .

Tune the Radio

I found an article in The Indian Express this morning about a place called Jhumri Tallaiyya which reminded me of my good old days of radio listening. The only claim to fame for this otherwise unknown town of Jharkhand is the huge number of song requests received from here on various radio stations like Radio Ceylon , Vividh Bharti etc. In the guest house where I am living these days, they usually have Worldspace radio tuned on in the dining hall. So mealtimes are once again very happy hours for an old radio addict like me. I always preferred Radio over TV because of its non- obstructiveness. You can continue doing your work and listening to music/news on radio for hours . Another reason leading to popularity of this medium is its unparalled reach . Be it the mountains or the remotest of village, islands or a city restaurant or even your own car or Taxi …radio’s reach is incomparable. Listening to radio while travelling is always in fashion. At times, I wonder if old radio clubs are still existing in small towns and cities as they used to be. These fan clubs of specific radio shows and radio stations can be termed a precursor of Orkut communities , as they were a great place to meet likeminded individuals . Radio was a craze in our school days .....Who in my generation can forget legendary Ameen Sayani and his popular show 'Binaca Geet mala'?

It was difficult for me to imagine a life without my little transistor radio in my school days. This small box was my companion , friend and closest confident. Whether I was doing my math homework or just taking a break from studies, going for a walk or counting sheep in those late night hours of insomnia, my radio was always with me in my teenage days. For many of us in those years, life without a radio was unthinkable. Even some of the best Hindi movie songs were picturised as a sequence where either Hero or heroine is singing it for All India Radio and the other one is listening to it.(Remember ‘Zindagi bhar nahin bhoolegi who barsaat ki raat..” or “Ek tha bachpan…(from Aashirwad)” or “Hum the jinke sahare ” or “ Tu is tereh se meri zindagi mein shamil hai” and many more.... ). It was a daylong companion for barbers, autorickshaw wallas , housewifes, college students and of course, lovers. I fully endorse the sentiment expressed by actress Amrita Singh(playing Chameli) in the movie Chameli ki Shaadi when in a love letter she writes to her beloved that in the moments of separation only your memories and Vividh Bharti songs are my consolation. There was a time when I was regular to at least 15 radio stations. Finding a new station was our favorite game . The content of the shows was as varied as possible . From bible lessons to Hindi or Urdu services of countries like Uzbekistan. Afghanistan or Germany and from Bollywood songs to BBC news …I enjoyed all of them. But the default station was of course, the commercial service of All India Radio, also known as Vividh Bharti. I am feeling almost nostalgic remembering those typical request a song (आप की फरमाइश) programs where the announcers will painstakingly read names of all listeners who have requested the song before playing the number. Interestingly, it was because of these programs that I heard the names of places like Majnu ka tila, Jumri Talaiyya and many more. In fact for years I thought these names were fictitious. There were always some favorite stations and some favorite programs. One of them was Urdu Service of All India Radio through which I learnt quite a lot of spoken urdu. Aha the usual greeting of adaab to 'Khabateen-o-hazrat' (Ladies and gentleman) and the polite reading of 'Tameel-e-Irshad( fulfilling the request song) of the samayeen( listners) . I still remember a wonderful program titled "आवाज़ दे कहाँ हैं ”(Call me where you are) which started after partition of India. Many people lost contact with their friends and relatives who migrated to India/Pakistan . The program used to play very old songs of 40s and 50s along with letters where people were asking their loved ones lost during partition to contact them . There were cases where the program did manage to unite lost friends and people came specially to India to meet their friends . Another program based on the memories of yesteryears was “धरती को आकाश पुकारे”. Both these shows started with two superhit songs with these words from old Hindi movies ‘Anmol ghadi’ and ‘Dharti Ko Akash Pukare’. The haunting voices of Noor jahan and Mubarak begum made the longing and the pain of separation sound so much more real. It was lovely to hear about those pre-independence days and somehow while listening to these program and many others on AIR-Urdu service, places like Lahore , Rawalpindi or Islamabad appeared very close . The station had equal number of listeners across the border too. Similarly some names of announcers and presenters like Mariyam Apa, Tahira APa, Mohd.Yunus etc sounded almost like a family. I don’t think people who started their radio listening only after advent of FM will be able to appreciate the quality of content of these programs. Those were the days, after all, when presenters’ narrative were still sensible (sometimes with sprinklings of urdu couplets or hindi poetry and on others with interesting trivia ). There are no loud RJs, talking nonsense all the time, not much of Ads either (only the famous Vicko Vajradanti, Indian Oil), and not only the chart busters-the evergreen stuff, you found all the dark horses, black sheeps, under dogs songs of the Hindi Cinema from time immemorial too. Some of the songs I am unable to find anywhere else even how. You wouldn't get a chance to come across so many songs in your life time, VB is such a treasure house. In fact I would really attribute, my knowledge of songs, lyricists, Music Directors, Playback singers, films and productions to VB . There was another favorite called Hawa Mahal. It was about a one act radio play every evening for 15 minutes. I and sister were crazy about it. The pleasure we got from listening these 15 minute plays was many times more than the current TV sitcoms . Then there was an evergreen hit show of Vividh Bharti called ‘Chayyageet’ . In this 30 minute show , every night from 10PM to 10.30 PM , a presenter will play 5-6 songs based on a theme. There was amazing variety of themes- it may be about a particular director’s movies for one show or about songs played on piano on the other, about songs picturised in Kashmir in one show and about songs with foreign words in it the next.. People used to put in a lot of effort and research before presenting the show. The other favorite shows were Jayamala(a special show for army men where a celebrity would present his/her favorite songs), Pitara (variety show which included women’s program to Radio play and from instrumental music to political talk) and Chitralok – the morning show of newly released flicks. It was definitely a heavily entertainment loaded package but in the modern lingo it was –infotainment in the true sense. Even today if I hear the authoritative voice ‘This is All India Radio the News read by….”, I want to stop immediately and listen. There was another show for youngsters called ‘Yuv-vani’ and its quiz show on thursdays was in our ‘not-to-be-missed’ list for years.
Taking my relationship with radio on the next level, in 2002 I got my first posting in Akshwani Bhawan, New Delhi and for a very brief period edited a business news magazine called 'Market Mantra' on AIR-FM-II ( now called FM-Gold) .I was part of Indian Information Service in those days. Being inside that building was like going to a temple. The work culture was amazing. Despite much degradation in standards, in AIR newsroom and recording rooms you can still find a newsreader/editor calling a friend or consulting an embassy to get the correct pronunciation of a foreign name. There were legendary presenters, people who’s voices become their best introductions for millions of listeners and whose style was copied by many future RJs . There were some people well established in their careers otherwise but working as casual announcers/news readers just to taste the romance of being on airwaves. O yes, it is intoxicating.As insider, I also got a chance to see the archives which can any day make a music lover faint with excitement. From the 40s and 50s the AIR archives have a unparalleled collection of Indian Music-including classical, folk ,regional and of course, the film music.

My radio listening habits were almost lost when I got busy with my career of a civil servant but my connection with Radio continued surprisingly . This time, to complete the circle, I got my first major assignment of a Performance Audit on Revenue Generation at AIR.. Now the focus was changed for me as I was certifying their accounts and counting revenue which the radio station received from sponsorship of Chayyageet and Jayamala. Suddenly a realization dawned that in this changing world the content part of radio was no longer the criteria of its success. It was cut throat competition with mushrooming private FM channels and the quality was stuff being aired no longer bothered the organization. Choice of words and their correct pronunciation was no longer stressed upon. Of course, there were some old timers still continuing with the well formed traditions of the place but the charm and enjoyment of being on radio was lost. New People joining the recording rooms were just doing a job-the feeling of responsibility or being a public broadcaster were absent . Even FM radio was more of a revenue generation venture than an infotainment channel . But even if it is just a shadow of the original, the old charm is yet to wear out completely .
These days the first thing I do in the morning after pushing my morning alarm back , is tuning the good old Vividh Bharti on my Dish TV. It is almost like going back to my childhood. familiar style of presentation and the similar sounds of opening music. The songs, of course, have changed with time. The emphasis is now more on new songs. At times the discretion of selecting right songs for the right time and mood is also missing but still there are few shows maintaining the standards . I religiously tune to them in the late nights and early mornings. I think now time is ripe for me to end the years of separation with my childhood friend . I have promised myself that I will subscribe to the digital satellite radio as soon as I get a house in Delhi. I guess its now time for me to sing “Awaz de kahan hai….” for my lost companion, my radio.