SAMIKSHA MANAKTALA

At the point when I was young, in the last part of the ’90s, my little radio was my dependable friend. We affectionately alluded to it as a “semiconductor.” Back then, it wasn’t simply a gadget but an entry to a world loaded with enrapturing stories, songs that waited in the heart, and the beat of life itself.

My valued belonging, that little semiconductor, became a window to a vast expanse of creative mind. It was a strong, rectangular box with a receiving wire and a nostalgic appeal that new contraptions would never reproduce. It went with me on my excursions, both genuine and fanciful.

The best channel on my semiconductor was, without a doubt Vividh Bharati. It was the heartbeat of our family, with its captivating mix of music, news, and social projects. In the last part of the ’90s, the captivating universe of Vividh Bharati was a fundamental piece of our everyday daily practice.

Every day started with the calming voice of the radio station personality, establishing the vibe for the day ahead. The frequently infectious and essential radio jingles were something other than promotions; they were part of our regular routines. Lines like “Washing powder Nirma, washing powder Nirma, doodh si safedi, Nirma se aayi” became imbued in our recollections.

The news program “Samachar Bharati” was a wellspring of data, keeping us refreshed about the world’s events. It was a window to the rest of the world, interfacing me to the more extensive picture past my nearby environmental factors.

“Jaanne Pehchaane” was one more program that I enthusiastically anticipated. It resembled a gold mine of information, offering knowledge about different subjects. This program extinguished my hunger for advancing engagingly and entertainingly from history to science.

In any case, the substance of Vividh Bharati was the melodic projects. They were the amazing tunes that filled our home. The assorted scope of tunes on different projects cared for every temperament and event. Through this radio, I found the ageless tunes of legends like Kishore Kumar, Lata Mangeshkar, and Mohammed Rafi.

As the sun set and the world outside developed hazier, my semiconductor shipped me to a domain of enchantment and sentimentality. It was when families assembled around the radio, sharing snapshots of chuckling, tears, and sheer euphoria. It was when narrating through music, news, and social projects joined ages.

In those late ’90s, my little semiconductor was something beyond a gadget; it was an esteemed companion who filled my reality with the hints of life. It was a friend that powered my creative mind, supported my interest, and associated me with the world. It was a period when effortlessness, warmth, and the force of narrating through radio held us in its captivating hug. Those were the days when my semiconductor and Vividh Bharati were indivisible sections in the narrative of my life.

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