Raju Korti
With due apologies to all the radio jockeys and digital jockeys floating on air waves these days, each time the words are uttered, I am reminded of a popular brand of underwear. Apologies because for a garrulous and chatterbox RJ it is anything but an "aaram ka maamla." To hold forth for a long time with witless humour, inadequate information and puerile mimicry without any pause is no mean task. I am saying this at the risk of being panned by the huge fan clubs RJs have, especially among the younger generation. But then that is only fair given that anything before 1990 is old and archaic for today's youngsters.
The radio jockey has been an institution since the early 1930s in the West but in India, they became febrile only after the advent and proliferation of private radio stations. The temptation to use the word febrile was just irresistible with one of the FM channel called as 98.4 which we all know from our childhood is the normal body temperature.
I personally know a few RJs. What really strikes me about them generally is the supreme confidence and demeanour with which they handle their mikes. This is one section of the media where the radio anchors know they have said something wrong and believe people have not heard it. But to be fair to this clan, they more than make up with pun, spontaneity, fluency and a soothing voice. The job becomes that much more tricky given that RJs also have to raise topics of concern, design subjects for discussion and interact with callers and listeners via phone, email, social media and SMSs. Even a moment's monotony can break the spell. So talk, talk and talk till they themselves drop dead.
For someone who has never been able to summon the gumption to talk furiously, hardly breathing between the words, I have adulterated admiration for most RJs. If only they could do some home work before they launched into their verbal fusillade.
This morning I switched on my antique radio which stirred to life with an RJ on some FM channel (some because most are known by their frequencies) waxing eloquent on the country's most deified and somewhat vilified songstress Lata Mangeshkar, today being her birthday. The song selection meandered from the 1970s to 2010 making me feel I was older than the singer. You have to understand and feel the plight of senior citizens like me when one knows that the first song that she sung was almost a decade before I started walking in this mortal world.
That begs a question. Who does the ground work for programmes that call for deep research? Or is it that there is little or no research because the RJs can keep letting off their steam while we hapless listeners snort through the programme? But then, who wants (to) research when it is more important to run through the programme than be bothered with its content?
Today's programme on Lata was not without its humour -- inadvertent though. After every two songs, the RJ kept playing the lines from a Rafi song "Baar baar din ye aaye, tu jiye hazaaro saal, happy birthday to you." I am still trying to figure out who should be more mortified -- poor me or poor Rafi or poor Lata Mangeshkar. That calls for a vintage Lata song from Parichay (1954) "Jal ke dil khaak hua, aankh se roya na gaya."
I don't know if RJs are paid royalty but what is royal should get royalty. Simple logic.
With due apologies to all the radio jockeys and digital jockeys floating on air waves these days, each time the words are uttered, I am reminded of a popular brand of underwear. Apologies because for a garrulous and chatterbox RJ it is anything but an "aaram ka maamla." To hold forth for a long time with witless humour, inadequate information and puerile mimicry without any pause is no mean task. I am saying this at the risk of being panned by the huge fan clubs RJs have, especially among the younger generation. But then that is only fair given that anything before 1990 is old and archaic for today's youngsters.
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| Sketch from the net for only illustration purpose |
I personally know a few RJs. What really strikes me about them generally is the supreme confidence and demeanour with which they handle their mikes. This is one section of the media where the radio anchors know they have said something wrong and believe people have not heard it. But to be fair to this clan, they more than make up with pun, spontaneity, fluency and a soothing voice. The job becomes that much more tricky given that RJs also have to raise topics of concern, design subjects for discussion and interact with callers and listeners via phone, email, social media and SMSs. Even a moment's monotony can break the spell. So talk, talk and talk till they themselves drop dead.
For someone who has never been able to summon the gumption to talk furiously, hardly breathing between the words, I have adulterated admiration for most RJs. If only they could do some home work before they launched into their verbal fusillade.
This morning I switched on my antique radio which stirred to life with an RJ on some FM channel (some because most are known by their frequencies) waxing eloquent on the country's most deified and somewhat vilified songstress Lata Mangeshkar, today being her birthday. The song selection meandered from the 1970s to 2010 making me feel I was older than the singer. You have to understand and feel the plight of senior citizens like me when one knows that the first song that she sung was almost a decade before I started walking in this mortal world.
That begs a question. Who does the ground work for programmes that call for deep research? Or is it that there is little or no research because the RJs can keep letting off their steam while we hapless listeners snort through the programme? But then, who wants (to) research when it is more important to run through the programme than be bothered with its content?
Today's programme on Lata was not without its humour -- inadvertent though. After every two songs, the RJ kept playing the lines from a Rafi song "Baar baar din ye aaye, tu jiye hazaaro saal, happy birthday to you." I am still trying to figure out who should be more mortified -- poor me or poor Rafi or poor Lata Mangeshkar. That calls for a vintage Lata song from Parichay (1954) "Jal ke dil khaak hua, aankh se roya na gaya."
I don't know if RJs are paid royalty but what is royal should get royalty. Simple logic.
I echo your observation ! RJ's have made me wonder if they suffer from some kind of 'Verbal incontinence'. "To hell with the content, just blabber to infinity", seems to be their mantra !
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