When Appa came back for good from the Gulf way back in the early 60s, he brought along with him two of his greatest friends: a huge GEC valve radio and a Philips transistor. The radio, with two huge knobs on either side (one to control the volume and the other to select the stations), two small knobs to control the bass and treble, a giant speaker, couple of piano-like keys to select the bands, was a grand spectacle to watch as it stood majestically on a teak wood shelf towering above all other pieces of furniture.
The living room would come alive at night—with the lights all switched off. Appa would pull his reclining chair closer to the radio and drift off into a magical world.
Once I saw him dancing to someone’s song. “I dance when my girlfriends sing,’’ Appa said. “Connie Francis and Doris Day,’’ Amma chipped in. It didn’t take me too long to find out he had boy friends too: Jim Reeves, Nat King Cole, Bing Crosby, Harry Belafonte ...
One day I saw the Philips transistor missing from the showcase. “Appa’s upstairs, on a Saturday Date,” Amma said. Saturday Date? “Saturday Date from Radio Bombay has a fabulous collection of golden oldies, plus contemporary music. Sheer listening pleasure from 10 pm to 11 pm,’’ Amma said. Pretty soon, I too was on a Saturday Date. My head reeled with magical names: ABBA, Boney M., The Carpenters, The Beatles, Bee Gees, Pussycat, George Baker Selection. Brotherhood of Man, Procol Harum ...
One evening Appa’s music world crashed. ‘’The GEC conked out. I had it checked by a technician. The valves have to be replaced. They’re not available here. Guess I’ll have to be content with Philips.’’ ‘’No way,’’ Amma screamed. ‘’I schedule my chores according to the AIR programmes, especially the Hindi news at 8 am. You can have it at 8.10 am when I’m off to school ...’’
Appa’s loss was my gain. ‘’Can you buy me a music system? Music now comes on tapes,’’ I said. That weekend I was the proud owner of a Sony two-in-one. With no Connie Francis or Doris Day tapes around, Appa lost interest in music. That’s when my craze for music took off.
Then CDs replaced tapes. Soon online music gave CDs the boot. Alvin Toffler was right. So who listens to the radio? My wife. At home or whenever we hit the road. Nothing on the radio to my liking. There’s wool in my ears when she listens to it. When signals fade, my CDs take over. This time I slipped Queen into the car stereo. Freddy Mercury came alive, “Radio, what’s new? Radio, someone still loves you! ...’’.