When the radio called

I trudged through heavy rain to a library to look up ‘audition’

It was nearly 42 years ago. I was a BA student at the then-famous Government College, Mangalore (now University College, Mangaluru). The campus was vibrant in both academics and cultural activities. We had lecturers and readers who inspired us in the classrooms and beyond. Many of us took social service and theatre seriously; for some, the entire college became a stage.

Once, while I was away attending the annual camp of our National Service Scheme (NSS) unit, a letter from Akashavani Mangalore, reached my home, asking me to attend an audition to be held at Kadri. Akashavani was planning to launch Yuvavani, and 14 young artists from different colleges had been short-listed and called for the audition. Taking a break from the NSS camp, I trudged through heavy rain – I could never hold on to an umbrella – to the library atop Baute Gudda to look up the meaning of the word “audition” in a dictionary. I then rushed, drenched, to Akashavani station.

We were each given a paragraph in Kannada. When the light came on, we had to read those lines with appropriate intonation. I succeeded on my second attempt. After the audition, I returned to the camp. I was over the moon when a letter arrived home asking me to attend rehearsals for a short skit slated for Yuvavani.

I made three trips to the Akashavani station at Kadri for recording. On the day of the broadcast, my neighbourhood hummed with anticipation. Elders and youngsters alike sat in front of radios of every make – Philips, Toshiba and Murphy – at 8 pm sharp, tuned to Yuvavani. Sadly, few could recognise my voice on air.

The next day, I was something of a hero in my college; only a handful had reached that milestone. Friends from St Aloysius and St Agnes congratulated me. A week later, I received a cheque for Rs 100. To deposit it, I had to open a savings bank account at a branch opposite the college. Frequent rehearsals and broadcasts boosted my self-esteem; the SB account, too, saw a steady flow of deposits and withdrawals. Much of that money found its way to New Chitra – famous for screening Hollywood films – and to Krishna Bhavan, for its irresistible bonda-sambar.

All this came back to me on reading about the shifting of the regional news desk from Dharwad to the Bengaluru station – once a magnet for listeners because of its iconic Pradesha Samachara. One wonders what stalwarts like the late H K Ranganath – an alumnus of Maharaja’s College, Mysuru, and a pillar of the erstwhile Akashavani, Dharwad – would have made of it or figures such as Dr M V Gopalaswamy, former principal of Maharaja’s College, Mysuru, and N Kasturi, in whose veins the blood of Akashavani seemed to flow.

Disclaimer: The views expressed above are the author's own. They do not necessarily reflect the views of DH.