Recently one of my friends gave me a ride. Whenever I get a ride I sit very peacefully without making too much fuss. Since I hate driving, by corollary I love rides. Back in BITS-Pilani I had sat at the corner of streets leading from the classrooms to the hostels, trying to hitch a ride behind any one's bicycle. Needless to say, those kind hearted souls who attempted to give me "dubs" (short for doubles) on their bikes, ended up with a flat tire or an in stable Center of Gravity! In that respect, I respect cars more. These things are designed for me. Cars know that some people can't possibly balance their bodies between a stick and a pair of thin tires.
Anyhow, my peace was broken when I suddenly heard hindi advertisements emanating from his car sound system. I sat up. Did the new hindi CDs come along with embedded ads? I paused to air my question.
I found out that the rather eclectic CD I thought was being played wasn't a CD at all. It was a radio channel. It was my first brush with hindi radio station in bay area. Have the desi's now successfully besieged the radio tower?
Before long, I started listening to it myself. I couldn't help it. The other channels aired English muzik which most of the time sounded to me like this, "Boom boom, blah blooh, O Baby, blooh blah, boom boom..". Of course my listening skills weren't exceptional and when words were uttered mixed with background noise, I became semi-deaf.
To make matters worse, two years ago I had been gifted with a hindi music CD from my friend. After hearing it endlessly for a couple of weeks, I found that the CD had made it's permanent residence in my car sound system. No matter how many times I pressed the "Eject" button, it just wouldn't budge. After ignoring this breech of tenant rights for a year I decided to visit the mechanic.
The mechanic, instead of fixing the problem, got into philosophy.
"Why do you need to hear CDs? Radios have been invented already you know..."
I made a face of disbelief.
He assumed I really didn't know about the existence of radios.
"You seem to be a very violent creature - why did you jam your CD in? If you didn't like the songs, you didn't have to play it."
If my CD did not like coming out of it's closet, it wasn't my fault. Some people require more help than others in revealing themselves. It was useless trying to make him understand that I was Gandhiji's non-violent disciple and hadn't resorted to jamming.
I left the shop with my CD happily lodged in the track- just like before.
Radio now became my best alternative.
1170 AM was the one I tuned into. The different shows had hosts asking, beseeching, cajoling callers to dial their number. The songs were lively - a blend of god-forgotten-era and yet-to-be-released hits. I enjoyed driving to the tunes of these. I even hummed them to myself. It helped me distract from the honks and the yells from fellow drivers.
I decided to call in one day.
The topic under discussion was, "Would you prefer an arranged marriage or a Love marriage?"
When they received my call and after I had finished the usual reveal-my-name-and-be-welcomed protocol, I said,
" I wish to be married - who cares if it's arranged or love? Just get me married!"
My call got unceremoniously disconnected.
I called the next day.
The topic was, "We go to the doctor only when we are in a terrible shape, do you agree?"
Incidentally I was driving that day to keep my regular doctor's appointment.
When I called them up, I said,
"I totally agree- in fact I am driving at break neck speed to reach my doctor's office!"
Instead of showing sympathy, the host broke down into peels of laughter. His theory had been validated. He thanked me and cut me off before I could say the next line which began with, "Why in heaven's name are you laughing at me....?"
I called again.
The topic this time was, "Who is the most special person in your life and give three reasons why".
After I uttered my name in style and put on my awesome bong-hindi accent, I said,
"The most special person in my life is ME! I am my most favorite person! Even though God has pumped unmeasurable goodness-es in me, for the benefit of the show, I will just list three!
Awesome, AweSOME, and AWESOME!" I waited for a response. There was a pause, a blip and then an irrelevant song started playing.
For some reason since then, my calls never get picked. I seemed to have been placed in their mysterious-phone-spam list. All the hosts have been served with an alert and their system of warning seem to be working perfectly.
But I am not going to give up. I gotta be heard. If no hosts will listen then I will have to do the inevitable - start my own radio show and talk all about myself! Good luck to the listeners!!