A good read - article by Gurucharan Das
A Metaphor of India
Raghav FM Mansoorpur l is a radio station which used to beam Bhojpuri and filmi songs, give community news and advice on all sorts of things, including AIDS and polio. It was started by Raghav Mahto, a 22-year-old mechanic in Mansoorpur, Bihar. Bored with running an electronics repair shop, Raghav stumbled one day on an innovative way to broadcast radio from his thatched roof shop by slinging a transmitter on a bamboo pole with a total investment of Rs 50. The do-it-yourself community station became an instant success. Raghav was happy and popular, besieged by requests from his fans to play their favourite songs. He earned Rs 2,000 a month — a nice return on his Rs 50 investment — fed his family of five and won the respect of villagers in the surrounding districts of Muzaffarpur, Vaishali and Saran within a 35 km radius of his radio station. "I air devotional songs at dawn and dusk," he told BBC, and this made him more popular with women than men. Two weeks ago, on March 27, his station was closed and his equipment seized because he broke two laws, he did not possess a licence and he gave news on FM radio. A formal police complaint has been lodged against him. Disappointed villagers are learning to live with silence. They could tune in to AIR's self-righteous programmes, but they want to hear the chat of their community — who has stolen whose cow, their MLA's broken promises, about the approaching Vaishali festival — and they want to hear it in their local dialect. And pray, what is wrong with thousands of Raghavs offering community broadcasting across the country? What if Raghav had started a newspaper? No problem. What if he had launched a TV news channel? No problem, again. But giving news on the radio is illegal, except by AIR.
Nothing quite dramatises the gap between the aspirations of the Indian people and the stifling bureaucratic Indian state than the long struggle waged by our people for freedom to broadcast over radio. Kicked and dragged, the government has reluctantly offered some crumbs. It allowed a few FM stations to broadcast after paying outrageous fees. Soon these stations were bankrupt and the government was forced to abolish fees and agreed to share revenues with the private stations. Since this has eased entry, 340 stations have now got licences and are about to begin. But they are still not allowed to give news. Raghav FM Mansoorpur l is the quintessential metaphor of a diverse and plural India. Mohandas Gandhi would have celebrated the idea of a radio listening community that might help to unite our caste ridden, factionalised villages. Community radio can also initiate development, empower women and Dalits, and advocate legislation from below. True, the government has reluctantly permitted colleges to run campus radio stations, but the licence process is so cumbersome — it requires approval from four ministries — that few have got going. The lesson from Raghav's story is that the state must de-license community radio based on an 'open spectrum' policy. Anyone should be able to start a station as long as they do not hog the airwaves. As for news on the radio, the only remedy is to challenge this contradiction in a court of law. Only a twisted babu will try to justify that one can deliver news in print and on TV but not on the radio in the world's largest democracy. gurcharandas@vsnl.com
Raghav FM Mansoorpur l is a radio station which used to beam Bhojpuri and filmi songs, give community news and advice on all sorts of things, including AIDS and polio. It was started by Raghav Mahto, a 22-year-old mechanic in Mansoorpur, Bihar. Bored with running an electronics repair shop, Raghav stumbled one day on an innovative way to broadcast radio from his thatched roof shop by slinging a transmitter on a bamboo pole with a total investment of Rs 50. The do-it-yourself community station became an instant success. Raghav was happy and popular, besieged by requests from his fans to play their favourite songs. He earned Rs 2,000 a month — a nice return on his Rs 50 investment — fed his family of five and won the respect of villagers in the surrounding districts of Muzaffarpur, Vaishali and Saran within a 35 km radius of his radio station. "I air devotional songs at dawn and dusk," he told BBC, and this made him more popular with women than men. Two weeks ago, on March 27, his station was closed and his equipment seized because he broke two laws, he did not possess a licence and he gave news on FM radio. A formal police complaint has been lodged against him. Disappointed villagers are learning to live with silence. They could tune in to AIR's self-righteous programmes, but they want to hear the chat of their community — who has stolen whose cow, their MLA's broken promises, about the approaching Vaishali festival — and they want to hear it in their local dialect. And pray, what is wrong with thousands of Raghavs offering community broadcasting across the country? What if Raghav had started a newspaper? No problem. What if he had launched a TV news channel? No problem, again. But giving news on the radio is illegal, except by AIR.
Nothing quite dramatises the gap between the aspirations of the Indian people and the stifling bureaucratic Indian state than the long struggle waged by our people for freedom to broadcast over radio. Kicked and dragged, the government has reluctantly offered some crumbs. It allowed a few FM stations to broadcast after paying outrageous fees. Soon these stations were bankrupt and the government was forced to abolish fees and agreed to share revenues with the private stations. Since this has eased entry, 340 stations have now got licences and are about to begin. But they are still not allowed to give news. Raghav FM Mansoorpur l is the quintessential metaphor of a diverse and plural India. Mohandas Gandhi would have celebrated the idea of a radio listening community that might help to unite our caste ridden, factionalised villages. Community radio can also initiate development, empower women and Dalits, and advocate legislation from below. True, the government has reluctantly permitted colleges to run campus radio stations, but the licence process is so cumbersome — it requires approval from four ministries — that few have got going. The lesson from Raghav's story is that the state must de-license community radio based on an 'open spectrum' policy. Anyone should be able to start a station as long as they do not hog the airwaves. As for news on the radio, the only remedy is to challenge this contradiction in a court of law. Only a twisted babu will try to justify that one can deliver news in print and on TV but not on the radio in the world's largest democracy. gurcharandas@vsnl.com
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