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AIR Ban and Radio Ceylon

BV Keskar (1903-1984) was the longest serving Minister for Information and Broadcasting (1952-1962). In an effort to revive Indian classical music and provide the common man access to it, Keskar initiated the National Programme of Music broadcast over All India Radio on weekends, the annual Akashvani Sangeet Sammelan and the Vadya Vrinda as a national orchestra. Pandit Ravi Shankar as head of Vadya Vrinda created a new genre of light music. Keskar deemed film songs vulgar, cheap and Westernised. He first imposed a 10 percent quota on airtime for film music on All India Radio and later banned the broadcasting of film music on AIR altogether. Suddenly, radios across the country began playing classical music, vocal and instrumental, often in slow mournful notes. Disgusted with the fare being offered by AIR, radio users began to turn their wave band tuners in search of other broadcasters who would sate their passion for film music. In the crowded 19 to 31 short wave metre bands, they were able to catch the waves from neighbouring countries playing Indian film songs at various times of the day. Radio Pakistan, Radio Nepal, Radio Ceylon and other distant broadcasters catered to their desperate needs. Small crowds would collect near the radios even at inconvenient times just to hear our film songs.

Soon, Radio Ceylon expanded and organized its programs, and timings, to meet the rising clientele from India. Fortunately for Radio Ceylon, the shortwave transmitter installed, for military purposes, by the British during the Second World War was powerful enough to reach every part of India. The commercial service of Radio Ceylon opened an office in Bombay. Radio ads, a novelty for the times kept us entertained as they promoted Capstan cigarettes, Cinthol soap or Binaca toothpaste. I recall the Cinthol ad with Amin Sayani pronouncing, Cinthol Sabse Sabko Badhya instead of Cinthol Sabse Sabko Badhiya. Radio Ceylon aired Farmaish (listeners’ choice), Purane filmo ke geet (old film songs) and Geetmala. They had an hour-long programme for South Indian movies, with quarterly segments for the four South Indian languages. Radio Ceylon employed Hindi-speaking broadcasters from India and built up an impressive Hindi film-song gramophone library. Radio Enterprising Service (RES), a private production company in Bombay, founded by Hameed Sayani and others, helped Radio Ceylon produce sponsored programmes, including Geetmala that were recorded on magnetic tapes in Bombay and flown to Colombo for broadcast.

Geetmala, which hit the airwaves within two months of the ban on film songs on All India Radio, began as a modest, thirty-minute, competitive programme of popular songs selected and presented by Amin Sayani, younger brother of Hameed Sayani, with a jackpot of Rs 100. Amin was offered the Geetmala programme on Rs 25 per month. It was the beginning of a career that was to last for over four decades, during which Amin Sayani became the most loved presenter of film songs. His reputation continues to remain today, seven decades later. I had the pleasure of attending an event in Bangalore in 2018 in which Amin Sayani was honoured.

Initially in Geetmala, Amin Sayani played an assortment of seven popular film songs of his choice and asked listeners to rank them. Amin Sayani would announce his own list in the succeeding programme. The jackpot went to the listener or listeners whose ranking lists matched Amin Sayani’s list. Binaca Geetmala’s signature tune was taken from Pon Pon Pon Baja Bole, a song from the film Aasmaan (1952). When the first programme was broadcast on Wednesday December 3, 1952, the producers expected some 50 letters in response. They were stunned to receive 9,000 letters and Amin had the unenviable job of scrutinizing the letters to select the jackpot winner. By the end of 1954, the programme had become so popular that Amin Sayani’s office was literally littered with letters from hopefuls. It was then converted into a hit parade of film songs with a duration of one hour.

Amin Sayani played sixteen songs ranked according to their popularity. He likened the hit parade to a musical step ladder (Sangeet Seedhi) and the ranks to rungs of the ladder (paydans). Ranks were decided by a combination of information on sales of gramophone records of songs collected from 15 sales centres located in 6 cities, and listeners’ requests collected from Radio Ceylon’s farmaish programme. As one would expect, there were inconsistencies in the numbers. Listeners choice figures were unduly inflated. I recall being approached by unknown persons, who were distributing bunches of postcards addressed to Radio Ceylon requesting for broadcast of one song or another. They wanted me and my friends to sign them blindly and mail them.

In an effort to make the numbers more authentic, the producers of the programme created radio clubs called Shrota Sanghs. Their members would meet each week to listen to music and mail their choice of their favourite songs to the company’s studios in Bombay. Starting with 10 to 15 Shrota Sanghs, the number rose to 400 at the the peak of the programme’s popularity. Doubts about the integrity of gathering information continued, however, and in 1956 a group of music directors asked CIBA to stop broadcasting Geetmala because it was hurting the film industry. In response, CIBA roped in influential film personalities like BR Chopra and GP Sippy to review song lists. Complaints remained, nevertheless, and doubts arose about the accuracy of the ranks.

It should be remembered that only a miniscule percentage of the population could afford to own a radio or a gramophone. Only a few gramophone owners could afford to buy gramophone records as and when they were released. Listeners requests, likewise, were only sent by those who had access to a radio. Sale of gramophone records, therefore, could hardly reflect the choice of the masses who were the target consumers for films and film songs as exemplified by these clippings of Lalu Ustad from Bimal Roy’s Do Bigha Zameen (1953). In the absence of a ground level survey to ascertain the preferences of the masses, Amin Sayani and his company had, perhaps, no better option.

However, complaints, and suspicions, about the rating continued to plague the producers for a long time. In his autobiography, Majhya Jeevanachi Sargam, translated into English by DS Phansalkar, C Ramchandra alleges that Radio Ceylon was being bribed to play songs from films to gain popularity and that by 1955 the radio station had acquired so much clout that it was being said that success of a film was subject to its songs being played on Radio Ceylon. In the Caravan series of Binaca Geetmala ki Chhaon mein, Amin Sayani claims that Filmistan’s Nagin (1955) ran to empty halls until Radio Ceylon, and Binaca Geetmala played the songs from the film. The same thing had happened to Filmistan’s Anarkali in 1953. All said and done, Binaca Geetmala continues to be the best guide to gauge the popularity of film songs of yesteryear.

Wednesday December 29, 1954, marked the beginning of new phase of popularity for Binaca Geetmala. By the mid-1950s, the programme became so popular that it was said that 9 of 10 radio sets in India were tuned to Radio Ceylon and the 10th was out of service. Wednesday evenings became synonymous with Binaca Geetmala as music lovers across the country gathered around their nearest radio sets, at home, at a neighbour’s, a restaurant, a hotel lounge or some other public place, to hear their favourite songs presented by their favourite broadcaster. When the programme started, I was in Jabalpur, working as a lecturer in a government college. I lived in rented rooms along with a group of bachelor friends, boarding in an adjacent restaurant. Mohanlal Kandhari, the owner of the restaurant, was a kind and friendly person who allowed everyone, boarders or otherwise, to crowd the restaurant on Wednesday evenings to listen to Binaca Geetmala. Back home, my school-going younger siblings would stop everything and park themselves near the radio. Next morning, the youngest of them would set up a wail before going to school because he had neglected to do his homework and my mother would say, “Budhwar ko Binaca geetmala, guruwar ko roneka geetmala”.An example of what went on in other households with a penchant for film songs.

Radio Ceylon and Binaca Geetmala became an integral part of our lives during this period. They effectively rebutted BV Keskar’s theory that film songs were vulgar, westernised and not good for the people. On the contrary, films and film songs kept pace with the times as independent India found its feet after years of colonial exploitation. The songs reflected the aspirations of the people in building a new India with songs like Hum laye hain toofan se (Jagriti - 1954), Chamka banker aman ka tara (Ek hi raasta – 1956), Mehnatkash insaan Jaag uthha (Insan jag utha - 1957), Sathi hath badhana (Naya Daur - 1957) and Chhodo kal ki baten (Hum Hindustani - 1960),. Keskar’s desire to spread awareness of classical music amongst the masses was also met to an extent by films like Baiju Bawra (1952), Jhanak jhanak payal baje (1955) and Basant Bahar (1956) and songs from other films like Ritu aye Ritu jaye sakhiri (Hamdard – 1953), Kadar jani na (Bhai bhai – 1956), Kaise jaoon jamuna ke teer (Devta – 1956).

The original dictionary meaning of the term ‘vulgar’ is characteristic of or belonging to ordinary people. That is what film songs are. Sadly, people in charge of broadcasting in the Government of India had to learn this truth the hard way. Eventually, All India Radio introduced Vividh Bharati, a commercial service with film songs in 1957, bringing the curtain down on an unsavoury chapter in the history of film music in the country.

I will revert to the films and film songs of 1953 in my next with more interesting information.

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