Radio Goo Goo (or Radio Ga Ga Part Too Too)

My slightly less-than-reverent post on Bangalore's chatterbreed seems to have attracted a fair amount of attention from the accused. And for those of you who quite understandably skipped reading the comment track of the post, here are the responses of some of the RJs who wrote back after reading it:

Manasvi (AIR) said:
Glad to know you love AIR. Many people call it old fashioned. But those who work there would only know the effort it takes to be a part of AIR. and the number of restrictions we have to consider before every word is spoken.

Priya Ganapathy (ex Radio City) said:
One of my friends told me to check out this blog and man, i haftu admit, u guys made my day!! Full majaa happened. I can't believe that there are quite a few who still remember the 'Core FM team of Radio City!' and so many who loved the Retro Show & the Late Show. I had an awesome time while I was there, and it feels utterly wunnerful that u were listening. For those of you who need an update on my life - I quit fulltime radio but now host events, do voice-overs and am back to writing. Travelling a lot... but if I find a radio station that's calling out my name - u can be sure to hear me on the airwaves;-) Till then, take care and thanks for ur wonderful messages! Yours in music n madness - Priya Ganapathy/Lingo Leela/Sister Stella

Rashmi and Prithvi (Radio One) said:
Can't start without saying that your post Radio Ga Ga brought a smile on all our faces on a day when Radio One works without takin a pause - Friday (25th of April i.e last week). And this of course included my station head Shyju Varkey, the breakfast jock Prithvi, Ulfat Sultan a k a Agent Rakesh, a few of our sales guys and me. These instances makes us feel good of our presence in the market and assures us of the connect we have with our Bangalorean Buddies just like anyone of us at Radio One who find an instant relationship establshing with Chamrajpet Charles of Prof Sultan. Thank you so much for the support and of course for tuning in.


After a couple of emails to and fro, I realized Rashmi and Prithvi's Radio One office was almost next door to my workplace, so off I went last Friday to meet them. Acutely aware of the high fashion state that my friday work wear was in, I decided to accessorize a little by smoothing down my frazzled hair with some good quality BWSSB water before meeting them. Thank you 30% relative humidity, in the 3 minutes that it took to walk down to the station, my hair was back to resembling the Great Indian Macaque again.

A pretty Rashmi breezed into the foyer as soon as I came in, and took me inside to meet 'everybody'. Very soon, a nattily dressed Prithvi was shaking me by the hand and leading me into the recording room. Inside, the pretty RJ pavitra (adh yen neer kudeetheero pa, nangu solp kodi (what water you drink-o-pa)) was at the console, studying all the intellectual smses that were coming in from her listeners. "Hai SXZVLW. Hehehe" flashed the most recent one, which she efficiently deleted with one graceful schloomp, while turning on the music, feeding the cat, doing her taxes and calling back an smser in another fluid motion.

Rashmi and Prithvi dragged me out of the studio before I could fall at Pavithra's feet and beg to be accepted as a disciple forever, and whisked me away to the main office. "Yaar ivrella?" (Who are all these people?) I asked looking mika-mika at everybody, feeling exactly like the legendary Boré Gowda did on his first trip to the city. Tinkly Rashmi laughter bounced off the walls of the office. "Ivraa? (These peopleaa?) Well, the guy sitting over there is RJ Anjaan, and this person here, is your friend Ulfat Sultan", she said pointing to a smart dude tapping away industriously at what I'm sure was his next hilarious clip. "Oh hi", he said, looking up momentarily. "Abb..ab.. gnh", I said, waving weakly and pretending to melt into the floor.

The station director came out soon enough, and at that point I completely lost it and gibberred away incoherently in Kannada. There was a light tap on my shoulder. It was Prithvi. "You know all those nice things you just said to the director? Yeah, so he doesnt speak Kannada." he said. "Oh hauda? Hehehe mhemhe", I simpered and turned back to the director. "Adhe budhdhi, nim radiyaa aithallraa? Bhal beshtyth nod budhdhra. Belg-belghoth jagli myaag kuntkaand kyaalthen nwaadi." (Charming programming, dear sir. I enjoy listening to it greatly as I sip my cha in the breakfast room), I continued in an inexplicable pan-karnataka halli-mix. For some reason, the English section in my pea brain had decided to pack its bags and take a vacation to Nelmangala.

Before I could cause any more embarrassment to the director or the staff, Prithvi and Rashmi dragged me out, still gibberring away furiously in Nelmangalese. They finally lured me into the elevator and out of the building with promises of a bonda at Kaycees.

Aiyo, mast maja banth ammawra - swaamyoi! Bhal thyanks kanra.