The famous adage 'Roti, Kapda aur Makaan' as the most basic needs of an Indian citizen, applies for the guys who have run away from their homes in the far-removed dark corners of India, and have arrived in this Dream City, and find that they neither have food, clothes nor a shelter. But that part of Mumbai is yet to be revealed to me. As far as I know, the people I see on the streets need 'Roti, Kapda and F.M.'
Frequency Modulated, as the educated of you would say, but who cares, as long as you have earphones, an FM-enabled phone in your pocket and rocking music in your ears... That is what FM means in Mumbai.
I have walked many walks in the busy locality in my neighbourhood, and have seen many interesting sights, but nothing I have noticed is more worthy of mention here than this: people moving onwards, their faces resolute with some unknown goal, but fast tightened to their shirts, snaking upwards from their pockets a black wire, which bifurcates at some point in two, and empties right into the two ears. Almost 80% of the people I see on the path - kid, adult and elderly - provide the same sight - and it did not take me long to know that they were all enjoying what was the most relished form of entertainment that had gripped metroes in India - the FM.
The age when radio meant a black box, extensible antennae, a struggle for reception and some loons reading the news - is gone - in this new world of virtual entertainment, FM has long since been declared the 'next big thing'. Plug and play, and listen to the newest music, cackle at the funniest jokes and munch on delicious gossip - that is FM.
Suno Sunao Life Banao, Bajate Raho, It's Hot - these have become the new mottos of Mumbai - where every other person is listening to one of the many channels which provide unending entertainment in FM. And the channels are owned by hot-shot companies like Relaince, TOI and RED to name a few...
It is not that I heard of this phenomenon here for the first time. Where I lived, Bhubaneswar, there was FM too, but not in this magnitude. The popularity and spiciness of FM there was nothing compared to what it was here. There only the hip-hop Gen-next (an infant species, there) enjoyed FM, but here in Mumbai, age no bar!
I wasted no time in buying an FM enabled device and immediately plugged in to the exciting world of FM, there was a channel where everything was Hot, another which wanted you to Play on and on, another which claimed to be 'for' the fast new generation, another that claimed to make you life always worthwhile and so on. Two songs later, you get to hear the latest news and gossip from the RJs - they're not bad - and every other song you get to hear a new funny feature like : Ghanta Singh who calls up real-life people and tortures them with his funny and silly questions, Pappudia which makes caricatures of Bollywood biggies, and so on. At night a few channels turned on the Love theme where a self-proclaimed LOVE GURU would help Mumbaikaars with their love problems in a digitally altered omnipotent 'bhavishyabani' type of voice, a channel would bring the songs of the yesteryear back to you, and if you didn't like any of that, just turn on the channel where English songs are played day and night! And on Saturday, more than one channel provide you with non-stop crazy remixes of the greatest hits by famed DJs!
But who would turn to FM Rainbow, the last-ditch effort of Akashvani to hook in some listeners?
Twenty-20 World Cup 2009 - the phenomenon that has been long awaited by India all over. 2007 champions India will never let the cup go to hands of anyone else!
Or at least that is what the advertisements in the FMs called for; with the background music of soldiers marching and victory bells ringing; this particular ad caught my, er, ears. Filled with national pride, I followed the matches, either on the telly, or (if I was forced to shut it down due to the lateness of the hour) on the FM - India win the first two matches, but what is this?
West Indies won the third match, much to my worst fears: I turned off the TV resentfully, cursing. I turned on the FM to lighten up.
Channel One - 'What to tell you guys - I'll give it to you straight - Har gaye yaar, kya karein...'
Channel Two - '...lost the match, what a shame... listen to these tracks.... Beeeteeey Lamheeeee...'
Channel Three - 'Kahin to Hogi Woh...Duniyaaa...'
Channel Four - 'Jaane Kahaan Gaye woh Din...'
Channel Five - 'Locked up... They won't let me out...'
Depressed and infuriated I pushed the Change button forcefully. No change in tone. When did FM start reflecting India's resentfulness? It was like FM was mourning India's loss too... (But then, the songs are selected by us humans...)
That remains the only time FM let me down. C'mon yaar... Harey to Harey, ab yeh dukhi gaane kyun?
The final objective test of the year was over, and the moment had finally come when I could say that I had completed twenty percent of my journey as an IITian. Others say-'I am 25%
engineer' or 'I am 20% scientist', but I disagree. After all, this was only the first-year, and we have hardly started studying courses that actually pertain to our branch....
Anyway I return to my room, to start my preparations to leave KGP. It had been an eventful year for me here. Though I had mostly turned away from the extra-curricular after a shockingly low GPA of 7.25, I cannot quite say that I had spent my 2nd semester as a goody nerd 'maggu', which is what one has to be, unfortunately to get a respectable GPA of more than 8.5. I was sure that I had done better than the last semester (or at least could say that I was about get better grades than what was assigned to me) but who was to say that God would not send down a bolt from the blue, and get me all red over my not-so-golden gradesheet.
Enough of that; moving on. I came to my room, and spent the next few days alternatively packing my many belongings and packing up my 160 GB hard drive with goodies-softwares, their tutorials, movies, songs and all those stuff that one requires to survive. Once I was loaded and locked I set out on an epic journey to the Civilised West from the Wild East, a journey that would take an not-so-adventurous young man to his destiny-a well earned three month break from academic life, where one was free to pursue a course of life as one wished, as one always wanted...
And where exactly was one going?
Mumbai-largest, populous, popular and glamourous, with its lights, big buildings and fantastic hang-out spots, seemed too far away from here, IITKGP, which was everything I have mentioned about Mumbai, but in a not-so-awesome way, which can't be explained...
I have come along way since I used to be small, innocent and, possibly, likeable. And now, I was at a juncture of my life when people take one look at me and mutter with a frown, 'Teenagers!' Being a target of stereotypes was something we teenagers had come terms to with our own way-ignorance.
I sensed my fellow passengers' trepidition when I sat down at my seat. As if I would jump at their luggage and start shredding their valuable into little pieces in front of their eyes. Just one-an old lady struck up a converstion with me.
'Where are you headed?'
'Mumbai', I was honest to say the least.
'You are in shipping business here?'
I was taken aback at that question, but cottoned on soon, having faced with similar absurd questions before.
'No, I am at IIT Kharagpur, first year, actually.'
I didn't look around at the others, though I was aware of their eyes on me - I had learned a long time ago how to avoid being a conversation about how IITs would lose their sheen soon, and how IITians were contributing to brain drain.
'Excuse me.' I said and climbed up to the top berth. It was 10:00 PM anyway.
Seat No. (something)
The 'epic' journey came to an end, just like all bad things do (yeah, they do!), and I set foot in the station floor, breathed in the station air, and immediately coughed: change was in the air. Change is good, but it'll take time to befriend it.
