We had our first transistor radio in the house when I was eight years old. Initially, I was curious as to how a small box can have multiple people talking and singing through it. For a short while, I was not allowed to handle the machine independently. However slowly my family members started to trust my ability to operate it unsupervised. I soon acquired the status of an expert within the household in switching to different stations at different frequencies. It was seen unseemly for women to listen to the radio, so before others returned from work in the evening, I had total charge of the wondrous machine. The only constraint was for me to assure my mother that my listening pleasure was not adversely affecting my studies.
I realise now that it was a period of political turmoil in Pakistan. The movement against General Ayub Khan was at its height and finally resulted in his resignation. I do not remember any echo of that tumultuous time on the waves of Pakistan radio. That could be because of my lack of preparedness to understand the complexities of politics. However, I do remember listening to the election results in 1970-1971 with keen interest. There were multiple special broadcasts in English, Urdu as well as in Bengali to provide updates on the election results. I do not think I grasped the meaning of the results at the time. I had witnessed some election rallies of local candidates from different political parties and had experienced the accompanying excitement and fun. Most people around me were only interested in the outcome for their local constituency. A small number of individuals who were connected more broadly – either through traveling to bigger towns or cities, reading newspapers in the larger village where I went to school or regularly listening to the radio – were interested in national or provincial results. One thing that confused me at the time was the number of provinces. I only knew about East and the West Pakistan through my textbooks, and now there were five provinces. I had heard about ‘one unit’, but my mind was not able to connect the new provinces with the abolition of One Unit.
People's trust in the information from Pakistan Radio was shaken and they turned to other sources. BBC became an important alternative
Events after the election had a direct bearing on the village folk. Dozens of people from the community were posted in the army in what was then East Pakistan. Almost every family had a close relative involved. Especially after the military action started in the East Pakistan, people began to become concerned about their loved ones. Radio Pakistan shared the confidence of the Pakistani Government, and the resistance in East Pakistan was portrayed as being fuelled by India and a small sub-section of ‘misguided’ Bengalis. Then the war broke out, and Radio Pakistan started to broadcast songs about the bravery of our soldiers. Alam Lohar sang one about how only 42 brave tigers killed 540 Indians. People had faith in our military and in help from China and the United States. Nobody could believe it when the troops surrendered in Dhaka. People’s trust in the information from Pakistan radio was shaken, and they turned to other sources. British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC) became an important alternative. Later on, Indian radio broadcasted messages by prisoners of war to their families. From our village, messages from a small number of people were transmitted. That created uncertainty and concern about the safety and wellbeing of other individuals who had served in East Pakistan. Following the dark days of the fall of Dhaka, many people from the neighbourhood would gather in our house almost every evening to listen to the news in an attempt to figure out the fate of Army personnel stranded in India. News from BBC international service was followed by a current affairs program “Sairbeen.” During the Simla talks between Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto and Indira Gandhi, we listened to Indian radio, Pakistan radio and the BBC in an attempt to get to the truth.
After an initial period of suspicion about Pakistan Peoples’ Party (PPP) and Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto, people had started to warm towards them. The positive image projected by Radio Pakistan was one of the reasons. Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto was the new hero. He was now surrounded by the new perceived ‘villains’ in Balochistan and the North West Frontier Province.
Even as the 1970 elections threw parts of the country into political turmoil, many people followed more local electoral concerns
A delightful side of listening to the radio was the music. On Sunday my day would start with listening to Radio Ceylon that broadcast film music. Every time the program ended with a song by Kundan Lal Saigal. Indian radio played songs requested by the audience more than once every day. Muhammad Rafi, Lata Mangeshkar, Kishor Kumar and Mukesh were my favourites – just as it was for many others of my age. Akashvani Jalandhar introduced me to the magical voices of Surender Kaur and Parkash Kaur. Some of their songs like “Lathe thee chadar” were sung at local weddings. Muzaffarabad radio played Qawalis on Fridays. I first listened to the Sabri Brothers there. Hamid Ali Bela sang Shah Hussain from Radio Pakistan Lahore. Radio Pakistan Multan was established later on. Pathaney Khan and Zahida Parveen were my introductions to Khawaja Fareed.
I learnt different regional languages and dialects through radio. Radio Pakistan Rawalpindi had shows in Pothohari, Hindko and Seraiki. When I went to Nishtar Medical College, Seraiki was not very unfamiliar because I had listened to “Jamhoor De Awaz” quite regularly. Although the medium of instruction in school was Urdu, all the teachers taught in the local dialect of Punjabi. I learnt Urdu from radio. That left a gap in my confidence in speaking in Urdu, and for many months after starting in College in Lahore, I could hardly hold a fluent conversation with peers or teachers.
Radio was the primary source of general knowledge and cultural training for me. My access to the written word was limited to the textbooks and occasionally newspapers. Radio quiz shows, literary competitions and poetry readings were my lifeline. I believe my interest in literature was kindled by exposure to programs with a literary content. Radio introduced me to Faiz Ahmad Faiz, Ahmad Faraz, Nasir Kazmi and many others. Exposure to different regional languages and dialects familiarised me with Khawaja Fareed, Bulleh Shah, Shah Hussain and Sultan Bahu.
Possibly, it was exposure to radio that primed me for my later interest in politics and science.
Dr. Muhammad Ayub is a psychiatrist and currently Professor at Queen’s University, Kingston Canada. He hails from the Soon Valley, District Khushab
