Cinema and Radio Intermediality II

Despite the government-owned All India Radio (AIR) disallowing film songs between 1952 and 1957, Hindi cinema has treated radio with utmost affection. This also acts as an index of the cinema’s historical contribution to the popularity of radio. From films like New Theatre’s Dushman (1939) to the more recent Rang De Basanti (2006) and Barfi! (2012), the radio features as a recurring character. Popular cinema thus constitutes a rich—if whimsical—virtual museum of radio in South Asia and functions as an impressive archive documenting the interrelations between the two media.

Having lived in the Covid-19 pandemic lockdown for months, we can easily relate to the radio’s role in Dushman. In this romantic drama, K.L. Saigal, the singing actor proclaims his undying love on the radio. When he contracts tuberculosis and is quarantined in a sanatorium, the radio keeps him connected with his fans and girlfriend. The film was commissioned by the Viceroy Lord Linlithgow and his wife to create public awareness about the disease and show that it was contagious but curable. It is not surprising that the radio was chosen as a propaganda machine by the colonial masters, even if the voice expressed the welfare of its subjects. This film also gifted radio broadcasters with an address they used for decades: “Awaz ki duniya ke dosto” (friends in the sonic universe!). The popular Radio Ceylon broadcaster, Gopal Sharma, even used it as the title of his autobiography.

In the early to middle decades of the last century, we saw the radio represented in films as an ornate, massive piece of furniture: doubled up as a table on which a sister placed her Rakshabandhan tray (Apradhi [1949]) or behind which one hid and spied on unsuspecting criminals (Bewaqoof [1960]). This was a transformational gesture, granting the radio a semblance of respectability—as its programming was willy-nilly dominated by tawaifs making the institution “unfit” for cultured men and women. It is interesting to see that heroes and heroines often kissed this degrading device as the source of voices of their loved ones, while villainous characters were often seen smashing radios to pieces (Apradhi, Amardeep [1958]).

A popular trope in old films was that of the poet protagonist who could also sing, and singing actresses who played their fans and beloveds (Dil Ki Rani, Shair, Barsaat Ki Raat, Teen Deviyan, etc.,). The popularity of the singer could be measured by the body language of the listener. In both Dil Ki Rani (1947) and Apradhi, the song wafts out of AIR transmission towers and traverses boulevards and streets till it reaches homely drawing rooms and intimate bedrooms. On the way we meet sundry people singing and dancing to the same tune, but the protagonists are no ordinary fans. In Dil Ki Rani and Barsaat Ki Raat (1960), Madhubala is devoted to the poet(s) played by Raj Kapoor and Bharat Bhushan respectively, even before she has set her eyes on (them). In retrospect, the first film might seem like a bad rehearsal for the immensely successful second one, which was inspired by a live qawwali performance by Pakistani artists visiting Mumbai. In the film, radio plays many roles: job-giver, match-maker and also a tool of espionage for Madhubala’s police commissioner father.

Yielding to several layers of meaning-making, "Zindagi Bhar Nahin Bhulegi Woh Barsaat Ki Raat..." (that rainy night will stay with me forever...) is a song of identity and identification. The heroine listens to the voice of poet protagonist as he sings of their fateful meeting. Through his words, she recognises him—identifying the bodily presence of the stranger with the voice of the poet she idolises—and smiles coyly. Yet what stays with us is her impossible and artistically credible effort to get inside the radio to reach the singer, as if the instrument were a two-way carrier of voice and body. Barsaat Ki Raat is also an innovative commentary on the subtle social transactions between the traditional ghazals reproduced in print, qawwali performances broadcast live and the creative and copyright gains and losses incurred by their mechanical reproduction.