Hometown Radio

 By Sukanya Choudhury

The earliest memories of my childhood
Is sitting cross legged with
My books as I do my homework
And hearing Aita fidget with the Radio
And very soon, the room would be filled
With the monotonous voice of a woman 
Reciting the day's headlines in pure, 
Unbroken Assamese and 
Ma would yell at Aita to tone the volume down
As she spoke to Papa, but
Aita would give me a sly smile and increase the volume
When we shifted to the big city, 
Leaving behind Aita and her radio
I would hear Ma play old Hindi songs
And sing along in a soft voice every time
A Kishore Kumar song came along
And a perfect symphony would play from the kitchen
As Ma's hums, the melodious songs and the pressure cooker
Cooking Biryani would soothe my ears.
As I grew older, the definition of 
A "radio" changed and 
Very soon the only radio I listened to was 
On the music system in the car, as
I drove someplace, yet
The songs would be less and the
Sponsors and ads would be more
They didn't play any old Hindi songs I knew
A few lines of 
Only remixes and raps and songs
That gave me a headache.
So once when I went back to Aita's place, 
I waited patiently for the "Hondiya Khobor" to finish
And then, taking the radio from her
I tweaked around and set the channel to one
Playing Kishore Kumar's greatest hits
And Ma came to the room, with a smile
And we all sat for hours, 
Away from our phones, humming along the songs,
Transported, to the era of
The black and white.

4 comments

  • সুন্দৰ কবিতা। পঢ়ি ভাল পালোঁ।

    KAMAL KALITA, Assam
  • It’s a lovely poem…

    Lipok
  • This makes me feel so nostalgic. Very well written:)

    Misha Oberoi
  • A feel-good poem ❤️

    Shiney E. Miracula

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