Wading through airwaves

Long before the days of FM, I used to sleep with my radio — especially during the cold Delhi winters. Once the lights were switched off for the night, I would sneak the radio into my blanket and rotate the dial until I found the right station. The most frequent one I encountered was BBC, with its signature tune setting the royal stage. My mind would conjure images of guards marching in front of Buckingham Palace. Soon the news would light up parts of the world in the dark warm shelter of my blanket. The droughts, military coups, festivals, football matches…Letter reading was a great way of getting to know the world. Once, an Ecuadorian woman wrote that if everyone listening to the programme at that particular time would jump they could create an earthquake. Wonder how many listeners jumped at the presentator’s prompting!

Another channel that I would bump into was the Voice of America. America, now obsessed with terrorists, broadcasted some interesting programmes on faith over VOA. Other voices that I encountered were Radio Deustch welle and Radio France. Sometimes I would catch faint strains of Radio Iran, or Iraq. At times, alien noises from Korea, China, Japan.

Our good old AIR wasn’t dull either. However, what irked me the most was that they would whet my curiosity with the promise of the latest song and then start reading out the names of those who had made the farmaish (they still do this!). By the end of it, my curiosity would be dead. But there was one programme whose long list of admirers didn’t irritate me and that was ‘For The Forces’. It is difficult to explain whether this was because midnights found me high on patriotism, or because of the Air Force background of my parents, or because of the chirpy presentator who read out all the letters with elan or because of the Western music which was played on the programme.

Today, there are radio channels galore, with the latest music and whacky RJs. But nothing matches the excitement of finding crystal clear voices after a wading through the crackling, incoherent airwaves. I am sure Karen Carpenter would agree!