Radio Times

While driving on a lazy Sunday afternoon, when the traffic was tolerably less engaging, my wife and I were listening to the FM Radio, which was continuously belting out evergreen classic Hindi songs of a bygone era.  My mind was racing towards the golden times of the pre-FM Radio era; an era in which, Radio was the main source of entertainment for many of my generation.  I reminisce on the sweet memories of those times, which had been tucked away in some corner of my brain.

The Radio was an endless source of entertainment and information, in an era, much before the onslaught of Smart Televisions and High-speed Internet.  There was a clash of generations at home, vying for the limited Radio time!  While elders at home, were keen on listening to news broadcast or some other informative programmes such as panel discussions or the commentaries on current topics (e.g., Loksabha Sameekshe); however, the younger me (excuse me, folks, I was also young once:)) longed to tune into “Vividh Bharathi” on the MW (Medium Wave for the uninitiated) or “Radio Ceylon” on the SW (Short Wave, which is, AM / HF band).  Hearing the voice of Amin Sayani on Radio Ceylon was exciting; so was the fun in knowing, which Hindi film song was in the No.1 position that week or which song had been edged out of the top ten or twenty in the Binaca Geet Mala; this popular programme, was aired on for close to two decades, if I remember right.  We never missed listening to this programme, come what may.  The main topic of discussion among the inner circle of my friends’ group was the position of a particular Hindi song in Binaca Geet Mala that week!  

Cricket commentary on the Radio, excited all of us, irrespective of the generational gap (excepting elderly women in the family!).   Whenever there was Cricket commentary on, all other programmes on the Radio were rescheduled or cancelled.  We were so happy that the elderly and other Cricket-haters in the family were edged out of their Radio time; we, the Cricket lovers, had an upper hand over the entire Radio time for days on together; you see, those were the times of Test Cricket and not the instant Cricket, like one-dayers’ or twenty-twenty or IPL.

The ‘24x7’ programming concept was unknown, back then, in India (although some unfamiliar AM channels went on through the night, probably because of the time difference with those countries airing them).  None of the MW Radio stations were up before 6 AM in the morning (I am still fascinated by the Radio stations’ opening tune, which was later adopted by Doordarshan!) and were promptly shut down by 10 PM or so, after the final news bulletin of the day. 

After some years, when I was into my late teens, my interest in listening to Hindi film songs had started to flounder; something more fascinating had captured my imagination.  I had started enjoying listening to western pop music and rock music (compositions by ABBA, Boney-M, BeeGees, Brotherhood of Man, Beatles, Tina Charles, Donna Summer, Michael Jackson, etc., come to mind).  My favourite Radio station, then became, Radio Australia or Voice of America or BBC or Radio Kuwait or Radio Moscow, including so many unknown Radio stations that broadcast western popular music on AM band; incidentally, AIR, Bangalore also used to broadcast western music on Sundays between 12 noon and 12.30 PM, which aired my favourite western pop music based on the requests of the viewers.

How perspectives change!  My craze for western pop music those days, reminds me of the youngsters of the MTV generation, who endlessly watched the music videos on MTV or V channel, all times of the day and night.  The same glitzy, noisy videos which kept on repeating ad nausea, exasperated us no end; forgetting that, we too had created similar ruckus and irritated the elders of our generation, albeit, in a different era, with some bombarding western pop and rock music on Radio stations.  I can still hear my grandmother’s exasperated voice shouting from the kitchen asking me to stop the cacophonous blasphemy blaring on the Radio!

We had a huge Radio at home, named AMZEL.  The Radio was placed on a wooden stand, which was fixed to the wall, in the living room.  I think, this Radio brand was manufactured in collaboration with some US Company in the initial years.  This Radio was one of a kind; very few people had heard of this Radio brand, even then.  As a matter of interest, this Radio was manufactured by a factory named REMCO (Radio & Electrical Manufacturing Company), in which company my father worked as Accounts Controller.  This factory REMCO was later taken over by BHEL (Bharat Heavy Electricals Limited) and the manufacture of Radios and Transistors were abandoned; as the market demand for them had diminished. Even today, whenever I happen to pass the BHEL factory premises on the Mysore Road, memories of my late father envelop me and my eyes become moist; reminding me of the great times, I had with my dad.  This is a topic for another blog post.

Sometime later, came the revolutionary Japanese brand Transistors and the fancifully designed ‘Two-in-Ones’; Transistor Radio and Tape Recorder combined into one unit, which took the Indian market by storm.  The huge funky Panasonic brand of ‘Two-in-one’ comes to mind, which used to be mandatorily carried by people returning from Dubai and selling or gifting them to our people.

Coming back to the AMZEL Radio, I think, may be, my father got an employee discount on purchase of this Radio.  This Radio which was purchased in the year 1963 or thereabouts, served our family faithfully till the year 1980; I think, this item was disposed of as junk (as we did not know, what else to do with it), although still in fairly good working condition.  Sometime in late sixties, my father brought home a much smaller and compact version of the REMCO brand Transistor, manufactured by the same factory REMCO.  This Transistor also lasted until early eighties, when it was junked.  The Transistor had microprocessor circuit and switched on immediately whereas the Radio had some in-built valves and took time to switch on; that was the only difference I could make out in their functioning; being a non-technical person.  The REMCO Transistor had an in-built aerial and was mainly used in our family, especially when the Cricket commentary was on.  We had a choice of Radio and a Transistor in our home, which brought down the friction with in the family.

The most popular Radio of the time, which I am referring to, was the Murphy Radio.  A cute baby holding a finger to his mouth, was the brand ambassador for the Murphy Radio, which was so very popular, those days.  Jogging my memory, is a huge hoarding, advertising for the Murphy Radio, on the Brigade Road in Bangalore; where a distributor for the brand had their main show room.

During those pre-FM, Radio era, if we loved a song and obsessed to listen to that particular song, we had to wait for days on end, to get another opportunity to listen to the song; much depended on the whims and fancies of the Radio stations on the repeat cycle of a particular song.  I would like to think, that the prolonged wait deepens the pining for the song and keeps them fresh and evergreen in our minds; unlike today when we can watch/listen to any song we wish on the YouTube and you can replay them any number of times (you see, I have realized that downloading a song is a total waste of time, effort and phone/computer memory).  So much water has flown, since then.  There is no longer the obsession or fun in listening to any composition of the present day, Hindi or otherwise. Technology has taken over our lives, we are less ready to appreciate and enjoy what makes us happy.

Idyllic Memories

When I look back on some of those nostalgic childhood memories, what I remember vividly was that cold, chilly evening in Bangalore. It was sometime in December of 1964 or January 1965.  I was all of 6 years of age.  I had accompanied my parents to watch my first movie (I probably think that this was my first movie because the movie had left an indelible impression on my conscious mind) that cold December evening.  The movie was in Hindi, titled “Dosti”.  The movie was being screened in a makeshift cinema tent, located near to my house which, used to be called a “picture tent” or sometimes a “touring talkies” in those days.  The makeshift cinema tent was supposedly a temporary structure covered by some heavy material (to avoid water leakage), that could be shifted easily from one place to another; although this particular “picture tent” never moved from its resting place, that was Tilaknagar (part of Jayanagar T Block now), which was later converted into a theatre, Swagath Theatre, perhaps. The whole concept of the “picture tent” was to provide entertainment to the masses in city suburbs and villages, where there was a dearth of cinema theatres. Inside the cinema tent, at one end, was a white large cloth stretched across a flat surface, acting as a screen; the moving images of the cinema was projected onto the white screen using a projector which, was placed at the opposite end of the cinema tent.  The white screen had become dirty, with large brownish patches, here and there, but still, the movie images looked fairly clear.

The projector operator sat beside a whirring old model movie projector on a folding chair surveying the crowds. In my young mind, the projector operator was some sort of a magician; and the owner of the cinema tent.  The projector operator decided on when the time was right to start screening of the movie and his decision mostly rested upon the size of the crowd; although a definite timing was fixed for the commencement of the show, which was 6.30 PM for the first show; this was rarely followed in practice.  A jarring bell was sounded before the commencement of the movie, which delighted the whistling crowd.  There was a rush of “adrenaline” in the audience, once the screening of the movie commenced.  This was partly because of the excitement created by the whistling and clapping from the crowds.

The main source of entertainment, other than the movies, had been the “circus”, for many of my generation.    The “Gemini Circus” was the most popular “circus” which used to pitch its tent in the Subhash Nagar Grounds (Now the Bangalore Central Bus Station terminus). However, the concept of “circus” which was so popular during my childhood days seems to be fast disappearing.

Coming back to the movie “Dosti”, though a cult classic hit of those times, the movie itself had a lingering melancholic impact on me; the two main characters in the movie, singing on the streets of Bombay to earn a living; had remained deeply etched in my memory for many years.  The story of the movie had a serious depth of intensity and the songs were evergreen classics.  That apart, I hardly remember anything of the black-and-white era movie, now.

The other quite vivid memory, I have, is that the “picture tent” was full of mosquitoes; which were a constant source of irritation to the loyal cinema audience.  However, the people were so enthralled and engrossed in the movie, that they soon forgot all about the mosquito bites. There was also this frequent disturbance happening within the movie tent.  People, who were coming in late to the movie, were constantly lifting the tent on both the sides and leisurely strolling in as if they had all the time in the world.  Every time a person walked in or walked out of the tent, their dark shadows danced on the cinema screen; there were persistent shouts from the people berating them on the disturbance; and every time the tent was lifted, the cold breeze from outside drifted in, making us shiver and huddle inside.

During the mandatory movie interval, the constant play of shadows on the movement of people, lighted up on the dirty white screen, while the loudspeaker blared the popular hit songs of the season.  People noisily rushed out, during the interval, discussing the movie plot and characters.  The interval reminded people to buy groundnuts (or peanuts as it is called these days) to pass the ten minutes of idleness.  Those days there was no concern littering the ground with the peanut shells.  It was a given, that peanut shells and all other food wrappers were left behind inside the tents, after each movie show.   Only once, at the end of the day, I think, the earthen floor was swept clean.  The jarring bell sounded again, signifying the end of the interval and resumption of the movie.

While, we, as a family were seated on the folding chairs in the back of the packed tent, people in the front class sat on the rough earthen floor.  We could see the dust on the earthen floor rise and settle down every time a person stood up or sat down. Some of the people who sat on the ground in the front, lighted a cigarette or a bidi, to the consternation of the non-smokers.  While some of the people objected, the smokers smirked and did not even bother to extinguish their cigarettes or bidis; they exhaled the acrid smoke with pleasure forming smoke rings.

Those idyllic memories of my childhood, watching a movie in a “picture tent” has remained with me, perhaps, reminding me of a joyful time when life was really simple, just black and white; and this brings on a smile to my wry face.