by Suresh Subrahmanyan
BBC radio is a never-never land of broadcasting, a safe haven from commercial considerations, a honey pot for every scholar and every hare-brained nut to stick a finger into.
~ From a CBS TV broadcast
In the ‘60s and ‘70s, during my school and college years, my constant companion was the BBC World Service radio broadcasts. Whether it was the trusty Grundig radiogram at home, or the powerful Sony transistor, you would have unfailingly found me tuned into the 25 or 31 metre band short wave, receiving the crackling but clear signals from the Beeb (its affectionate moniker) at Bush House, London WC2. Once in a while, I would tune into Radio Australia for some Test match cricket or the Australian Open tennis. Rarer still would be visits to the Voice of America. As for All India Radio, it was mostly during live cricket commentary of matches played in India, or the news in English, read by Melville De Mello, Lotika Ratnam, Pamela Singh, Surajit Sen and V.N. Chakrapani. Radio Ceylon was a domestic favourite, beaming Indian film songs back into India! Only the BBC had the nous and savvy to offer a variety that catered to every possible taste.
The magical lure of the radio is all but lost now, notwithstanding the Prime Minister’s periodic tete a tete with the masses, Mann ki Baat which, strangely, is also telecast but viewers can only hear the PM’s voice over a visual of a radio set! Television, for better or for worse, has invaded and consumed our lives. It’s a brave man or a dishonest one, who will admit to not being touched by the idiot box. More’s the pity, because one of the great qualities that radio possesses is its ability to concentrate the mind and free up the imagination. Rather like reading a good book. Listening to John Arlott’s rasping voice describing Colin Cowdrey’s cover drive was almost as beautiful as the great batsman’s artistry. At the first historic tied Test between Australia and the West Indies in Brisbane in 1961, I was glued to Radio Australia early morning on all five days of the match. Alan McGilvray, Lindsay Hassett and company, brought the pulsating moments alive to me. Ditto India’s Davis Cup tilt at the windmills when we progressed to the Challenge Round in 1967, only to be brought down by the mighty Australians. Sitting at home, we willed Krishnan, Lall and Mukherjea to superhuman heights. Krishnan and Mukherjea even took the doubles rubber against all odds. No TV, but no matter. I was Radio Ga Ga, to invoke rock band Queen’s song title.
During my school days in Bangalore my English teacher would exhort us to listen to the BBC, the better to improve our English grammar and diction. In particular, we were told to catch the news, ‘on the hour, every hour’, Greenwich Mean Time. So I would listen to the world news on BBC Radio whenever I could, more to imbibe the ‘correct pronunciation of the Queen’s English’, as opposed to boning up on happenings in the House of Commons or keeping track of Idi Amin’s shenanigans in Uganda. I kept a trusty Oxford dictionary by my side, just in case. Google search was eons away from entering our lexicon.
Then there was the entertainment side of things that really caught my fancy and virtually made me a BBC addict. Live sports, comedy, drama, music (popular and classical), quiz shows, royal weddings, and the odd funeral, even. Tarry awhile and indulge me as I delve into some of these unforgettable programmes.
The weekly Saturday Sports Special was a treat. Depending on the season, Association Football, County and International Cricket, Wimbledon and Racing at Ascot – you simply couldn’t get enough. Master of Ceremonies Paddy Feeny, sitting in his London studios, would expertly navigate the listener from event to event, keeping us informed of the scores and state of the game. All this, peppered with constant light hearted banter with his wonderful fellow commentators on the ground – the aforementioned John Arlott, Brian Johnston, Christopher Martin-Jenkins, Trevor Bailey and many more. Even the football scores had a certain poetic cadence – Sheffield Wednesday 2 Wolverhampton Wanderers 1, Hamilton Academical 3 Heart of Midlothian nil, Partick Thistle 1 Inverness Caledonian Thistle 1. Ajit Wadekar’s team winning at The Oval in 1971 along with the series, was a seminal moment for BBC followers in India. People dancing on the streets with transistor radios pressed to their ears after Abid Ali hit the winning runs, was an unforgettable sight. Come Saturday, I would sit in front of my wireless from 6.30 pm and not move till well past midnight. My mother would yell at me to come for dinner. I would rush to the table, fill up my plate and be back again at the tuning dials. Radio dinner!
For music buffs, there was no better place to turn to than the BBC World Service. Programmes like Top Twenty and Desert Island Discs, were an absolute must. While the former kept us abreast of the pop hit parade, with The Beatles and The Rolling Stones, not to speak of balladeers like Tom Jones and Englebert Humperdinck invariably topping the charts. Desert Island Discs put the spotlight on famous personalities who had to imagine being castaways on a desert island, and select their favourite music during their unexpected solitude, hoping someone would find their message in a bottle. The conversations with the presenter, the plummy voiced Roy Plomley or the charming Sue Lawley, were invariably urbane and witty. Then there were hilarious quiz programmes like My Word and My Music, involving some of Britain’s most eloquent raconteurs regaling us with their quirkily erudite answers. Finally, if classical music was your thing, the BBC at the Proms was a delight, featuring some great orchestral performances.
What about comedy? What, indeed! Nobody does comedy better than the British. BBC Radio virtually spawned some of Britain’s finest comedians, many of whom shone on television as well. Hancock’s Half Hour, Round the Horne, The Goon Show, Beyond the Fringe, The Men from the Ministry (an audio precursor to the celebrated Yes Minister / Prime Minister series on television) and many more. These great radio programmes showcased the massive talents of the likes of Tony Hancock, Peter Sellers, Spike Milligan, Harry Secombe, Alan Bennett, Jonathan Miller, Peter Cook, Dudley Moore and others of their ilk. David Frost was a worthy addition, though current affairs and biting satire were more his stock in trade. ‘That Was the Week That Was’ was a huge hit for Frost on British television but here in India, we were only treated to choice excerpts on BBC Radio. These stalwarts considerably predate the likes of John Cleese and Rowan Atkinson, who were products of the burgeoning television era that gave us everlasting hits like Monty Python, Fawlty Towers, Blackadder and Mr. Bean.
Notable one offs on BBC Radio included the ill-starred Royal nuptials of Prince Charles and Diana Spencer, the entire event and the church service was given the full treatment – a meticulous ‘ball by ball’ running commentary. How ironic to reflect on this wedding pageant in the light of the subsequent tragic events that unravelled. Piquantly, Lady Diana and Mother/Saint Teresa died within a week of each other, and our television channels in India literally split the difference, simulcasting live both the funerals from London and Calcutta!
It would be remiss on my part not to mention my brief encounter with the legendary Mark Tully, BBC’s voice in India. Tully’s despatches from his adopted country were full of empathy. During a brief working stint in Delhi in 1971, I perked up enough courage to track him down at his residence in tony Jor Bagh. I had no appointment but he let me in to his warm home without demur. I told him I would like to work for the BBC and would he put in a word to the boffins in London and get me an opening – even as a tea boy. I could work my way up from there. I still cannot believe I actually did that. He was all ears, but nodded his head in an east-westerly direction, indicating that it was next to impossible. I had to be satisfied with tea and sympathy. That was about as close as I got to working for the BBC!
One can go on and on, but I will conclude with a brief mention of what I consider among my most prized possessions – a double CD celebrating 75 years of BBC Radio, which I picked up at a BBC shop in London. Don’t think these outlets exist anymore, but the recordings take us on a roller coaster ride of the finest, landmark presentations on BBC Radio since its founding in 1922, ranging from the voices of King George V, H.G.Wells, Neville Chamberlain, Winston Churchill’s ‘finest hour’, John Lennon hours before he was fatally shot, Under Milk Wood with Richard Burton, The Berlin Wall comes down, and much, much more. Truly, a collector’s item.
In the words of Burmese statesperson Aung San Suu Kyi, “When I was under house arrest, it was the BBC that spoke to me – I listened”.
As did I.
