Another distinct memory and voice from my early teen years: Ameen Sayani and his Binaca Geetmala on Radio Ceylon. I had a Philips shortwave radio and I used to primarily use it to listen to BBC World Service and cricket commentary – and of course the songs that played as a countdown on the Geetmala.
As a sidenote, I came across this recently in The Telegraph on Radio Ceylon: “‘Radio Ceylon’ may seem like an aberration today; Ceylon itself, after all, is now Sri Lanka. Yet, as the iconic radio station turns 100 this month, its legacy continues to serve as a reminder of the power of communication mediums to unite people across borders and languages in the perpetual battle against forces that seek to police culture or push propaganda. The British-era institution became a household name in India after the Jawaharlal Nehru government in the 1950s mostly stopped allowing All India Radio to play Hindi film songs, insisting instead on promoting classical music. With its powerful broadcasting equipment, Radio Ceylon filled the vacuum with shows like Binaca Geetmala bringing the best of Bollywood music to millions of fans across India as well as other parts of South Asia, including Pakistan.”
I was reminded of Binaca Geetmala and Ameen Sayani when I was at a wedding recently. Given my limited interest in conversations with relatives I rarely interact with, I sat in a corner and enjoyed the songs that were being sung. I have hundreds of songs downloaded on my Amazon Prime app on the mobile, and I listen to these songs in random order regularly on my Bose headset as a way to (a) silence ambient noise and (b) think deeply. So, I am always on the lookout for Hindi songs I grew up with. It then struck me that Binaca Geetmala annual lists would be a good check to see what I had missed. And that’s how the connection got made. I found a Wikipedia page listing the top songs from each year – a treasure trove of memory triggers.
It was a different India then, of course. Scarcity and government control were the norm. We had 1 TV channel (Doordarshan), 2 radio stations (All India Radio for news and Vividh Bharti for entertainment). That was the India where there were 2 types of cars: Ambassador and Fiat, licenced to sell by the government. The shortwave radio became an integral part of my life as my “window to the world” – so much so that when I got my first salary in October 1989 working in NYNEX I immediately went to Times Square and bought a Sony shortwave radio. (I think it cost me about $250 then.)
Besides the songs, Ameen Sayani’s voice was a huge draw for me. The melody and sweetness in his voice made it all come alive. I can still see myself lying on the window platform in our flat at night and listening to one song after another, interspersed with Ameen Sayani’s introductions.
Today, I have more music at my fingertips than Ameen Sayani could have counted down in a lifetime. And yet, none of it arrives with that voice — the warmth, the anticipation, the way he made each song feel like a gift being unwrapped. The scarcity of those years gave everything weight. A single countdown, once a week, on a crackling shortwave signal from Ceylon. We didn’t just hear songs; we waited for them.
