The building of many voices. -Photo by White Star

Being the lone child of ace Urdu playwright and translator Syed Imtiaz Ali Taj, eminent broadcaster Yasmin Tahir grew up watching a galaxy of luminaries from art, culture, literature, performing arts, etc., in her home.

At a time when girls of her age played with dolls, she started taking interest in literary pursuits, and later in radio.

From a very young age, Yasmin was intrigued by the wooden box which had assumed the position of a family member. Radio was, actually, the television of those days. She did not know then that one day radio would become a source of recognition for her.

The day after she finished her master’s degree, she joined Radio Pakistan; this was in 1958.

“Radio Pakistan was not an office for me or a nine-to-five job. Initially I was not broadcasting; I was taken in as a publicity officer. My job was to feed the newspapers on programmes, happenings and upcoming series on Radio Pakistan. Then slowly and gradually radio became a home to me. I started a programme on western music from Lahore. It was an amazingly modern programme. Teenagers and youngsters used to write to me and I used to read out their messages. There used to be messages from girls to boys and boys to girls, interacting and giving suggestions. It was a club like atmosphere through the microphone. The listeners used to participate in discussions and dialogue in a light manner on all issues. There was no concept of e-mail and phone calls at that time. Mail was the only source and it was just me connecting to the listener through my voice. I used to take sacks full of mail home everyday and sort them out. I also used to help people out by giving them advice through my programme.

“I still get positive feedback on that programme whenever I come across my listeners. In Islamabad, where I lived for some time, some senior bureaucrats walked up to me and said they had such a nice time listening to my programme. They were nostalgic and all praise for what I used to do.

“I also did programmes from Voice of America and BBC but did not feel that special connection with the listeners there.

“There was a rapport between the person behind the mike and the listeners in our times. We used to reach out to them and make them feel as if we were with them. I used to do a morning programme — Saat Rang. It was on air from 7 to 9 am and I conducted it for well over 12 years. I divided the programme into three segments.

“The first segment was concerning the household — whatever was happening early morning in the house, i.e. children getting ready for school, little tussles over the newspaper, the housewife discovering there was no milk, etc., … and things like that. “This all was done in an informal way. I used to pass comments like ‘you are wearing a beautiful colour today’ as if I could actually see the listener. The second segment was dedicated to what was happening on the streets, regarding the traffic, vendors, pedestrians, people rushing to work, etc., while in the third segment I talked to the housewife whose children had left for school and husband for the office.

“With experience, you came to know who your listener was. The very sophisticated may not be your listener. Once somebody told me that I travelled with him every day from Lahore to Sheikhupura. I wondered how? He said I listened to you on the radio in my car and I felt as if you were talking to me. He said he felt as if I was sitting beside him and talking one-on-one.

“I also did a Fauji Bhaiyon Ka Programme and during the wars of 1965 and 1971 we used to go to the front lines and interact with jawans there.

“This was the time when everyone — from poets to writers to performing artistes — was associated with the radio. There were people like Sufi Tabbassum, Nasir Kazmi, Intizar Hussain, Ashfaq Ahmad, Ahmad Nadeem Qasmi, A Hameed, etc. Before them, there were Rafi Peer and my father. There was not a single literary figure of eminence that was not associated with radio.

“There was a canteen in the Radio Pakistan building where everybody loved to hang out and chat over a cup of tea. I still remember the small cups with tea spilling over in the tin trays. It was like a club; everyone knew everyone, everyone enjoyed their work. We were like a big family.

“Radio is now dead and finished. It has lost that connection. Everything has changed. The whole culture is lost. Radio at that time was also a means of education. It played a major role in correcting Urdu pronunciation. There used to be people for this job. Radio was considered an authority on Urdu pronunciation.

“But now things are different. Some time ago the then Director-General of Pakistan Broadcast Corporation called me to take over FM 101 but I refused. Radio today is too casual with half Urdu, half Punjabi and half English; that’s not my style. I feel there is nothing thought-provoking in it. I feel that along with the element of entertainment there should be some food for thought in every programme.

“Radio has always been my passion. I have always been camera shy and TV has never impressed me. Although I have done some serials on TV just for the sake of the experience. I have always respected radio which in turn has respected me. I always tried to make radio as visual as possible. I took no formal training as there was no concept of it at that time but yet I did all kinds of programmes on almost everything. My spectrum of work on radio is very broad. I acted in plays, did talk shows and what not. I did all this not as a service but as a service to myself. I remember when I got my first salary of Rs 250 I felt so rich and took my whole family out for dinner. We had a sumptuous Chinese dinner for Rs 36 only. I enjoyed each and every moment of my service spanning 37 years."