Growing up in the late 1950s and 60s, the radio was our only source of entertainment. Very few families had gramophones or radiograms. Listening to the radio was very important. Through it we were connected with world news, radio commentary and Test cricket.
My parents, both of them schoolteachers, used to listen to several programmes, especially radio plays. I looked forward to the request programme called Musical Band Box on Sunday afternoons. It was compered by music man BK — Barun Haldar. The K was for Kumar. That “faceless” voice took my breath away. And I was not alone. Listeners, young and old, swooned over his voice and flawless presentation.
I joined Akashvani in 1971 on a “casual contract”. I had been waiting for admission to the master’s programme when I heard an announcement on radio saying they wanted casual English presenters for Yuva Vani. There was a need for a platform for the youth. So Yuva Vani was introduced in Delhi, Calcutta, Bombay and Madras in 1970. I went for the audition and at the end of it, I was selected. I would work for a fortnight or so every month at ₹10 a day.
Bulbul Sarkar
Bulbuldi
Akashvani was a happening place in the 1970s. Jazz aficionado Ian Zachariah had a programme. Julie Banerjee, Sadhan Banerjee and Dubby Bhagat hosted another on Western music. I remember seeing Birendra Krishna Bhadra come for recordings of Mahisasuramardini. I remember watching the legends of the stage record their parts in the studio. Tripti and Sombhu Mitra, Ajitesh Bandyopadhyay, Rudraprasad Sengupta, Satya Bandyopadhyay, Nirmal Kumar, Shukla Bandopadhyay…
Those of us who worked at Akashvani would chat, exchange information and get to know about new trends.
We were introduced to different categories of music. I started with Western popular classics because I had exposure to that genre at home. It was common in middle-class Anglicised Bengali families of the time. I knew how to play the piano. My parents took us siblings to Western music concerts at New Empire.
Those days, Bulbul Sarkar was producer of the Western music programme. Bulbuldi had introduced some of the most interesting and informative talks. Music I Live By, What Beethoven Means to Me, What Mozart Means to Me, Literature in Music, The Seasons, to name a few. She invited celebrities such as Satyajit Ray, poet Bishnu Dey, cellist Fr. Theodore Mathieson of Oxford Mission, Behala; pianist Lalita Maya Das and others to present these wonderful sessions. Another programme she conceptualised was Paschimer Janala or Window to the West. It created a stir. The script was in Bangla and the programme was for a Bengali audience, exposing them to all categories of Western music.
Then there were live recordings of jazz fests, classical music concerts and even live broadcasts of Christmas Eve and Easter services. Bulbuldi used to do all the live announcement shows. Not everybody could go to the concerts, so she would provide live commentary for the radio audience.
Ratna Sen and Biswanath Das anchor a show on World Table Tennis Day
An announcement
On the first day, I met Y.C. Gupta, who was a senior announcer for Yuva Vani. Bulbuldi requested him to help me and some of the others. We did not know how to operate turntables, so he taught us. Next, we had to learn to use the console, which had the
faders for the microphone, turntables and tape decks.
They were not like the digital faders of today. They were absolutely ordinary. A fader is a linear sliding control on an audio or lighting console used to adjust the volume or signal level of a specific channel.
There used to be a panel of artistes who played Western music. We recorded these programmes in advance on spool tapes. The five-inch tapes were for talks, and the 10-inch ones were for music. It was on a 10-inch tape that the talks by Ray were recorded.
When we were in training, Bulbuldi made us record tapes. She would show us where we had gone wrong, where the pause was a bit too long and technicalities like that. Once we learnt, we would teach the next batch of freshers.
I observed how sound effects were created during Bengali radio plays. It was so interesting to see how they would use simple things to produce the sound. For example, to create the sound of clashing swords, they would rub the music stands against each other. They created the sound of a gurgling brook by blowing into the water with a straw.
I remember an incident from December 1971. I was waiting to read the English weather bulletin at 2.26pm. Suddenly, station director Dilip Sengupta walked in. Along with him, there were about three or four army personnel in uniform. The Bangladesh War was on. And I knew they were from Fort William.
Sengupta asked who the English announcer was and plucked the sheet of paper from my hands. In its place, he handed me a typed sheet and asked me to read it. I didn’t know what it was. My legs were shaking, my hands were shaking. The first line was underlined. Boldly underlined. It read: “General Sam Manekshaw’s ultimatum to General Niazi of the Pakistan Army to surrender.” And then I started reading. And just like that I became part of history.
Gouri Ghosh, a senior Bengali announcer, came and hugged me after it was all done. Later, I learnt that my reading was to be recorded and played every day for the next 10 days.
Satyajit Ray
Seasons in music
We always did live programmes. Only the artistes recorded their performances. We had a panel of artistes: vocalists, violinists, pianists, jazz groups and so on. And we had to learn to record on those tape decks; they were huge. We also had to learn to erase them with an electromagnetic block. While erasing, we had to take off the wrist watch.
Then there were the unidimensional boom microphones. We learned that if we recorded a solo performance, we had to keep the accompanist a little further back so the soloist could be heard. And if there was a problem, everything had to be re-recorded.
Remember, these recordings were not done by the engineering section. Yes, engineers were called in when a team from the Western music department went for a special concert. They would carry with them those small portable tape recorders. Special concerts used to happen at Saint Paul’s Cathedral, or somewhere in the open. We used to have artistes from abroad coming to perform — Charlie Byrd had come, and British jazz rock band Nucleus.
We had to write our own scripts. Then Bulbuldi would read them, she was very particular. We had a free hand and only one caveat — never talk down to a listener, just share, and share in a manner that is interesting.
Debdulal Bandyopadhyay
There was no Google, so she bought two encyclopaedias — one was a rock encyclopaedia, and the other was a pop encyclopedia for the library. She also got approval from Delhi to acquire the Grove’s set or Grove’s Dictionary of Music and Musicians, which was considered the Bible of Western classical music.
When the Bangladesh Liberation War was on, Pronobesh Sen, who was assistant editor, news, used to write powerful scripts on the ongoing situation. They were read by Debdulal Bandyopadhyay. He would read them with great emotion. During those years of the Bangladesh War, everybody was glued to the radio. The Calcutta station played a very important role. Debdulalda got the Padma Shri for his role.
I remember the time when I was doing the research for a programme titled Seasons in Music. I wrote the script and Bulbuldi cleared it. At the time, in The Statesman, there was a music critic called Somdev Dasgupta who would come up with radio reviews on who did a good script or who presented a good programme. That was a source of inspiration for us. We were a close knit family of English and Bengali broadcasters. We learnt from seniors like Amiya Chatterjee, Dilip Ghosh, Mihir Banerjee, Gouri and Partha Ghosh, Sadhana Dutta, Arunangshu Biswas, Shankar Ghosh and Chhanda Sen to name a few.
We used to present the Akashvani Sangeet Sammelan year on year. For this, we had to collaborate with the Bengali announcers. The Sangeet Sammelan was a Hindustani and Carnatic classical music concert. This is where I learnt about different Indian classical Ragas.
Rev. Theodore Mathieson
When Bulbuldi retired, I began scheduling the Western music programmes.
Looking back on my journey of almost four decades, I am overwhelmed by waves of nostalgia. I am grateful to have been part of such an august institution and one of the many voices that transformed and redefined the art of broadcasting.
As told to Moumita Chaudhuri
Ratna Sen is a retired senior broadcaster. She worked at Akashvani Kolkata from 1974 to 2010