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Journalism of Courage
Long before the days of FM, I used to sleep with my radio 8212; 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 matches8230;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 presentator8217;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.
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!
