Remember, there used to be days when there were only two channels on the radio, both owned by the All India Radio; AIR FM Rainbow, and AIR FM Gold. The title music for both these channels rings in my ears as I write this. The sing-song multi-layered voice of women singing A-I-R - FM - Rainbow, and likewise for the Gold channel. Oh, and then came the new age, hip promotional song for AIR in english...that went something like - "yaay, we got an FM music place..all the taaaime.." It was the 'it' thing back then, and as far as I can remember, there was a music video released too, for this song on TV. Those were the days........
Why am I recalling all of this suddenly like a hopeless romantic? That's because I am wondering how times have changed. How the pleasures which we derive from certain things today differ in texture and quantity from the pleasures derived back in the day from the same sources.
So, yesterday evening, my brother talked to this one RJ Sayema, at the FM channel Radio Mirchi on air, for about 5 minutes, answering a quiz on Kishore Kumar, on the eve of the legendary singer's birthday, and remarkably enough, managed to sing a few lines of his favorite Kishore Kumar song too. When this encounter played on the radio a few hours later, all of us family members gathered around the mobile phone serving as a radio transmitter, stayed shut and listened closely for those 5 minutes. A slight smile on each face betrayed the modest amount of happiness everyone felt on listening to my brother's voice coming from the radio.
Midway through this episode, I thought - what's the big deal?? Oh yes, you talked to a famous RJ; yes, your voice could be heard all across the city for 5 minutes, and yes, you sang on Radio...but so what? Is that special or extraordinary anymore?
Now, let's go back a couple of decades. Picture the same situation in that time zone. Would our reactions have been the same? Of course not. The whole mohalla would've known at exactly what time the program will air, and for how long the voice of one of their neighbors could be heard on the radio; the mother would've made sure of that. It would've been no surprise if a few neighbors and close relatives had actually gathered in the house to listen to the programme together. This is because an event like this held a special importance in the lives of people back then. Social media interaction was at a bare minimum, and so, a voice heard on radio, or a name mentioned in the newspaper, was special. An appearance on television, well, was a different story altogether.
Why don't we feel special about such events anymore. A radio interaction, a prize won in a contest, a TV debate, or even a celebrity autograph. In fact, why Can't we feel special about them? It is because the exclusivity of such events in our lives has been lost. Talking about radio, there are way too many radio channels on the frequency today, with hundreds of RJs in every city. These channels thrive on public interaction, and literally, the whole city is talking to the RJs everyday, providing them with fodder for their shows. So one getting the privilege of being on the city radio for a few minutes does not command any respect or awe anymore, its just normal. Even the RJs, because there are so many of them, and because they're very easily approachable, do not enjoy that celebrity status anymore. Compare that to the regard your dad holds the baritone-rich Ameen Sayani in, and you'll know what I am talking about.
So now when I spot one of my friends sitting in a TV studio, debating on shows with the top journalists of the country on primetime, I'm not too excited. And surprisingly, neither are my parents. The media monster has grown leaps and bounds and taken such proportions in the last few years, that it has discreetly entered our very lives, and has become an integral part of our everyday interaction. Spotting filmstars, cricketers or other celebrities at airports or hotels, or even managing to shake hands with them or taking autographs has also vastly diminished in exhilaration value. These celebrities have come too close to the common citizen through the social media networks; you can strike a direct conversation with them on twitter and facebook; real-life pictures of them are available widely, and they've started making public appearances exceedingly often.
The vella dimaag asks the self - has the romance been lost from life with such progressive developments?
P.s. :- throughout while writing this post, i couldn't help but visualise the romantic picture of a sunny winter afternoon, a radio transistor crooning a Mohammad Rafi classic, and at the end of the song, a middle-aged announcer announcing the names of those who had written (written??..what age are we in?) to them that week. And these names, invariably every time, sounded very similar :- Iss hafte hume khat likhte hain Ghaziabad se Shaad Alam, Bittu Sharma Karol Bagh dilli se...Ballimaran, Chandni Chowk se humein likha hai Billu, Pinky, Sonu aur Kareem ne, Shalimar Bag se humein likhti hain Tasreema Begum aur unka parivaar, aur Pappu Khan ne humein likha hai Sadar Bazaar se. Aap sabhi ka boht boht dhanyawaad.
I wonder very often that why is it that most people around are staunch religious believers. Well, it's not that I do not respect their faith or their beliefs, but I just wonder why does a free will to choose our own beliefs not exist. Very clearly, the believers all around are divided into a few chosen faiths and beliefs. How often do we find new faiths emerging? Why do all individuals not have a different, personalized faith each? How can a whole race be so naive as to follow blindly the established religions, norms, traditions ceremonies, etc.
I got my answer this morning. Well, at least a part of the answer. I was visiting the orphanage in my locality, with a contribution of three litres of milk. The caretaker or Sister, a lovely selfless middle-aged lady greeted me with incredible warmth - she knew me from my childhood. So, I sat with her for a while, telling her how I had been, talking about my late grandmother who was a regular visitor to the orphanage, and asking her about the kids and their studies. During this little while, came crawling a little girl, mere two years old, and Sister told me in a line how she landed up in the orphanage. Her mother died and her father, a rickshaw-puller, left her there because he could not manage to raise her. After that, she went on to make me realize how lucky I was to have a family, and so, how thankful to God I should be.
No problems with that. Yes, even being an atheist, I do not deny I'm very privileged to have a family, and many comforts. But, thankful to God...no I am not. Simply because I do not believe in God yet. But, I could not escape thanking God in front of Sister, because of the humbling realization she inflicted on me. I nodded in agreement to whatever she said, just because it was very humbling. But when i gave it a thought a little while later, I remembered I do not believe in thanking extraordinary powers, or asking from them.
This is the kind of environment in which all the kids in that house are living in. They're taught to thank God for everything they have, and thanking God or praying to him is the best virtue, they're told. They grow old with that education fed into them, and become believers in faiths without even realizing why they are doing so. They pass on the same education to their oncoming generations, in most cases without even being confident of the reason in their faith.
This story is not limited to that orphanage only. It happens everyday in our very homes. My mother wants me to recite Ram's name every morning because she thinks it is a good habit. I am sure her belief is so strong only due to the fear which her mother made her feel. Nonetheless, I respect her opinions and beliefs because everyone is entitled to their opinions. But I don't see a reason why I should also believe in the same things. Yet, just to escape the horror-stricken face of my mother when I announce that I'm a non-believer, or when I refuse to follow her religious practices, I act as if I'm doing what she wants me to do. But see, here's the catch. I am doing what she wants me to do, a reality which won't change even if I turn into a believer overnight, a reality not separated from most believers.
It actually is a multi-level scam. Beliefs are imposed everywhere, at all levels, and seldom to people realize whats being done to them. Take for instance, the common belief, that a God-fearing man is a virtuous man. Now, where does that assumption come from? Yet, who can deny being influenced by such assumptions in their lives?
I concluded that I am thankful that the environment I grew up in was not too stringent in these matters, and that is why i managed to grow up with my own set of beliefs, based on experience, thought and reason. But those, who I could not understand as to why they believe in things staunchly and unquestionably, now to me seem unlucky, because the fear or the deception which they are victims of, has been imposed on them so strongly, that they can not escape it.
I've seen it happening all around me, and I'm sure all of us have. This is a universal concept, and the thought has left me disturbed today, because the most important gift of being, free will, is being marred by it.
