‘ये आकाशवाणी है…’ जो शब्द थे अहसास, जिन्हें कभी नहीं भुलाया जा सकता! – World Radio Day when people listen prime time on radio tedu
‘This is Akashvani’
The sound comes from a wooden radio set placed on a well-decorated side table.
A grandfather is sitting on his armchair. Glasses resting below the nose, hands resting on the stick. It is 8 o’clock at night. This scene always happens at 8 o’clock only. The news bulletin begins, and no one, food, guests, electricity, can interrupt it.
Well, for many years, this was India’s prime time.
Long before TV debates, push notifications and flashy headlines, the country used to listen to All India Radio at some point. These words spoken over the radio in Delhi, passed through different cities and reached deserts, forests and sea shores. This voice carried war news, election results, monsoon forecasts and budget speeches to homes that had no other window to see the world.
There was no radio background noise. That was a relationship to be heard at the appointed time. That was discipline. That was the trust of our ancestors and you.
When the entire village became silent for cricket
Another scene which remains in the memories…
India-Pakistan match is going on. The streets of the village are unusually empty. Half the shops are closed. Even the tea in the tea shop is not boiling.
Fifteen men are crowded around a transistor radio placed on a cot. Some are listening so bent over that their ears are almost touching the speaker. The rest are sitting behind, holding their breath. It seems as if the match is happening in front of our eyes.
The commentator’s voice becomes loud, restless, alive.
“Bowled him!”
The village explodes.
Before satellite TV and high-definition replays, cricket in India was not watched, it was imagined. Commentators like Sushil Doshi used to narrate every over and every ball like a story. The listeners used to picture the field in their minds. Just with the help of the sound of every four, the scene of the match was captured in the mind.
The radio did not show the match. He made you feel his every ball, the efforts of the players, the spectators sitting in the stadium.
when radio was the internet
In the 1950s, 60s and 70s, All India Radio was the most powerful network in the country. He used to reach those remote villages, where newspapers reached after many days and there was no TV.
If any government policy changed, the radio would tell us.
If a cyclone came, the radio would give warnings.
If war broke out, radio would provide support.
During the wars of 1965 and 1971, families would gather around the radio set, waiting for updates. In those moments of uncertainty, the calm, balanced sound coming from the radio became a comfort.
Radio was India’s first truly democratic medium. He crossed the walls of literacy. He crossed financial limits. He talked to everyone.
Women used to connect with the world through songs…
At that time, afternoons were full of music.
In homes where there was no TV, Vividh Bharati’s film songs became companions. Women used to decide their work according to their favorite programs. The whistles of the pressure cooker used to play in the rhythm of Lata Mangeshkar’s tunes.
There was no playlist. There was no skip button. If your favorite song was playing, you would stop everything and listen.
Some people would place a cassette recorder near the speaker so that the song could be captured. In those years, when entertainment options were limited, radio provided women with entertainment, relief and connection. He filled his long afternoons with poetry, cinema and stories.
The countdown that united the country
Every week lakhs of people used to wait for the familiar tune of Binaka Geetmala.
Songs would go up and down in the charts. Families would argue over rankings. Letters came from listeners from small towns and big cities. Hearing one’s name on the radio was a proud moment – it felt as if one had achieved fame.
Radio created shared cultural memories. When a song became popular, it became popular for everyone simultaneously.
There was a collective wait. There was collective happiness.
Then FM came and the sound changed
The liberalization of the 1990s changed a lot, including radio.
Private FM channels like Radio Mirchi brought energy, humor and the hustle and bustle of cities. Now RJ took the place, who used to talk like a neighbor.
Radio became more personal with traffic updates, prank calls, late night love advice. More urban. It came from wooden cabinets to car dashboards and auto-rickshaws. From a family ritual he became a personal friend.
What did we lose, what did we keep?
Today streaming platforms and podcasts have dominated the world of audio. We choose what to listen to and when. The dial has now become a touchscreen.
but something became a memory
Radio was once a companion of time. The whole country used to listen together at 8 pm. Now we listen alone, in bits and pieces, through earbuds. Nevertheless, radio still survives during times of disasters and internet bans. Community stations in rural areas still provide information to farmers. FM still keeps truck drivers awake on long highway drives.
That grandfather in the armchair is now holding a smartphone. It is possible that the village will now gather in front of TV instead of transistors.
But somewhere, at 8 o’clock at night, a voice still says-
“This is Akashvani.”
And for a moment, India remembers what it felt like to listen together.
Happy World Radio Day.
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