It was the autumn of 1996. Farooq Abdullah had to pay a fine for illegal parking while visiting me at the BBC in London. This was after the then-Indian Prime Minister Narasimha Rao made his historic ‘sky is the limit’ speech, shortly before the 1996 Jammu and Kashmir state elections, which marked Farooq’s comeback.
Battered by years of violence, the majority in Kashmir at that time believed that India and Pakistan had learnt a lesson from their past betrayals and wanted to settle the Kashmir issue for peace. 'The bloodshed had to stop,' was a common prayer.
Politicians, people and separatists – all thought that the snow had melted. The streams were gushing. The Chinar leaves had turned green. Shopkeepers stayed long in the evening.
The 'sky is the limit' mantra had enticed us all, insiders and outsiders. I was no exception.
My Return to Kashmir
Was it a sense of responsibility or the figment of my imagination that led me to leave BBC London and return to Radio Kashmir after covering the global agenda from a distance of seven thousand miles?
Honestly, I still have no answer.
My children were furious that I had created an obstacle in their education for no reason, interrupting their session and separating them from their friends. I did not know whether they would get admission in Kashmir or waste a year. Many friends at the BBC advised me to reconsider my decision to move to Kashmir and settle permanently in London.
The decision to leave the BBC and return to Radio Kashmir was a leap of faith, but one I was determined to take. I returned with bag and baggage.
First, I got my children back to school, and then I immersed myself in the world of broadcast journalism, which was limited and bordered. The early days were challenging, with limited resources and a smaller platform compared to the BBC.
From Vast Ocean to a Small Pond
Whether it was the management, infrastructure, or the means to connect with the world, Radio Kashmir was lacking in many aspects. This was a stark contrast to the BBC, where I had access to state-of-the-art equipment and a global platform. While the BBC London, to which I had become accustomed, was a vast ocean, Radio Kashmir was a small pond warped in a time zone.
During the few years I spent at the BBC, I travelled to South Asia, the Middle East, and several European countries, learning the secrets of world politics and honing my skills in journalism. Then, what could I do at Radio Kashmir, where the recording machines were often in poor condition? Besides, the restrictions imposed on the content hung like a Damocles’ sword.
But just when I began to get disheartened and started to doubt my decision, news came that the new director, Ashraf Sahil, had arrived at the station. His arrival brought a sense of anticipation and hope for a better future for Radio Kashmir.
About four or five colleagues were basking under the sun in the courtyard of the Radio Station when my clerk informed me that he had taken over and had called a staff meeting.
I did not know Sahil Sahib, but I had heard that he was from Gurez. As soon as I saw him, the images of the blue-green valleys of Gurez came to mind. He had come to the Radio with a new dream. He wanted to restore Radio Kashmir to its former glory, during the days of Zoon Dub.
Sahil Sahib had come from a television background but he wanted to showcase his talents in radio, which he believed was a powerful medium.
All the officers of the Radio were gathered around a round table in the conference hall when Sahil Sahib emerged from the director's room and addressed everyone. After a lengthy discussion on his broadcasting career, he addressed me.
“I am thrilled to see that you have preferred this small station over the BBC. We will not let your sincerity go to waste; instead, we will try to learn from you by leveraging your talents,” he said and spoke about the possibility of the BBC-type broadcasts I had been part of.
The Idea Seeding in the Mind
Somehow, the BBC's Sairbeen program that I had edited for four years kept rewinding in my mind, as I went back home, picking up my children from school on the way, and surprisingly finding them happy and chirping like birds. That they had taken a liking to their school was reassuring.
After a sleepless night, as the first ray of light broke through the darkness, a new idea began to take shape in my mind. The program ‘Shaharbeen’ was about to be born, and I was filled with anticipation and excitement for this new chapter.
Shaharbeen, while inspired by Sairbeen, would bring a fresh perspective and unique content to the listeners, making it an innovative copy of the original.
The early morning sun had infused life into the dead trees, and buds had sprouted at their edges, as the Fajr prayer could be heard from the mosque.
That morning, after I reached the office, I went straight to Sahil Sahib's room who met me with a smile. I rattled off the idea with the condition that I alone would edit the program. His smile broadened and he agreed, promising to provide everything I needed – from studio facilities to staff.
“You will inform us in advance about the start date, duration, and format, so that we can publicise it effectively,” was his only directive. We were out to conquer the broadcast world, but my real test had just begun.
The Rocky Road Ahead
Radio Kashmir's antique machines and the editorial issue was not an easy task. But a bigger challenge was: Who believed the news on the Radio anymore? Since the eruption of militancy and the relentless cycles of violence, the Radio was regularly feeding a ‘peace’ narrative to its listeners, eroding its credibility. When the BBC and Voice of America were providing news at regular intervals, Radio Kashmir’s broadcast was a mere apology, sometimes triggering protests by restless listeners who would often gather and raise slogans outside the studios: ‘Radio Kashmir's fake news, shame-shame’.
My challenge was to restore the trust of the people who were calling the institution a liar, and compel them to listen to my program. What I carried with me was my credibility at the BBC in the preceding years.
I lost sleep many nights. My restlessness became visible with dark circles and deepening wrinkles around my eyes while preparing the groundwork for the ‘Current Affairs’ program which was finally launched on a Monday.
Shaharbeen Goes On Air
The decision on the studio allotment, staff assistance, duration and time of the programme taken, I prepared an outline of the fifteen-minute program, which included a report on the shortage of life-saving medicines in the Valley and an interview with the Public Health Secretary, reports on the worsening flood situation in Bangladesh, the absence of officers in the secretariat, etc., and a live report on the firing on the Line of Control.
My first program was at 7:30 PM before the news, and Sahil Sahib remained in the station until the program was broadcast.
Was he doubtful of my intent or saving his job?
When I reached the duty room after the live broadcast, Sahil Sahib was clapping, and the entire staff assigned to evening duty stood up and joined in the applause. The sweat drops on my forehead were getting hotter. I drank a glass of cold water in a gulp to cool down.
The following days were very hectic; the station was receiving hundreds of calls, and people and the feedback was encouraging. Shaharbeen was becoming a topic of conversation throughout Jammu and Kashmir.
In a few days, the number of radio listeners increased significantly, and various delegations began to appear on the Radio, seeking to highlight their issues.
In a few months, Shaharbeen became the voice of every household, and most of the radio officers were requesting Sahil Sahib to give them a role in it. I formed a large team of young journalists and trained them - from writing dispatches to conducting field reporting. The reporters were sent to administration officers for interviews, which was a first-time occurrence in Kashmir broadcasting. Live conversations or direct reports from remote areas were included in the program.
Radio Kashmir’s Popularity Grew
The glory of the Radio started to be restored.
Thousands of people from far-off places came to see me, resulting in regular traffic congestion outside the station. The Radio was taking centre stage in voicing day-to-day concerns intersecting with politics and governance. Through this program, a new connection was established between the Radio, the administration, and the public.
Several articles were written in the newspapers on the program Shaharbeen. When reports of the program's popularity reached All India Radio, New Delhi, it was ordered that all stations in Jammu and Kashmir would broadcast it. The central government asked Sahil Sahib to extend the duration of the program.
At the same time, the demand for all advertisements to be aired during this program increased, which earned the station substantial revenue. However, to the dislike of the listeners, the advertisements reduced the time span of the program.
Treading a Forbidden Zone
At times, during the broadcast, I would get so carried away and forget that I was broadcasting from Radio Kashmir, and instead, I would start including 'forbidden' topics. I started liberating Radio Kashmir, which was unpleasant for the administration in Delhi. After all, ours was not a normal state.
Delhi reprimanded Sahil Sahib. He snubbed me and then whispered in a low voice, 'This is not BBC; keep it in mind every time you enter the Studio. I will take care of the rest myself.'
After verbal warnings, I got written orders several times. “You are exceeding the limits by violating the code. Either follow the rules or leave the program.”
Once, I went to Sahil Sahib's room with the intention of leaving Shaharbeen. He smiled and said, “Keep doing a good broadcast and do not expect any reward.” I told him I didn’t, but I didn’t expect warnings, either; and left the room in a huff.
Shaharbeen continued for a year and a half, and thanks to this program, the Radio's popularity soared to new heights. My fellow officers were inspired to breathe life into other programs. But my journey with Shaharbeen was to be short-lived. Sahil Saheb was suddenly transferred, and his successor had other ideas about the program, completely sidelining me.
A Journey cut Short
Disappointed and beginning to toy with the idea of quitting, like a miracle, I received an offer BBC London, asking me to return as the editor of News and Current Affairs permanently.
In the solitude of Syed Sahib's shrine in Sonwar, I weighed my options and returned to the office to write my resignation letter. At home, my children received the news of going back to London with much cheer. My father came and held me close to his chest for a long time. My eyes burst with tears. The storm had subsided.
Returning from Shaharbeen, I resumed producing and editing Sairbeen and met many prime ministers, intellectuals, military leaders, celebrities, and Nobel laureates from around the world.
Radio Kashmir continues to broadcast Shaharbeen, and its employees have also achieved a high level of recognition. I conceived and produced the program, giving voice to the voiceless, and attempted to bring people closer to the administration in an atmosphere of uncertainty. But I give all the credit to Ashraf Sahil, who acknowledged my abilities, appreciated my creation, and supported the broadcast fully.
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