Where radio is not just information
MEWAT REPORT In a place where having a television is looked down upon, community radio helps people know their rights
community radio; Mufeed Khan, a local, covers agriculture; Sohrab Khan is in charge of the station and handles the equipment and hosts a popular a Gaon ki Baat; Shakir Hussain presents a programme called Hum se Hai Shashan, and Fakat Hussain hosts Tere Mere Mann Ki Baat—answering questions and responding to the feedback of the listeners.
Fakat points out that Tere Mere Mann Ki Baat was originally called Mann Ki Baat. “We changed the name after the Prime Minister started his own Mann Ki Baat. We did not want any confusion,” says Fakat as he peers into computer screen, monitoring listeners’ calls.
It’s 2.45pm and time for a programme on the value of savings. Anuradha and her guests Bhagwan Devi, Shakina Begum and Swarnlata — women from nearby villages — have taken their place in the recording room. As Shorab gives the signal, Anuradha, dressed in salwar kameez, begins speaking to her listeners with the panache and confidence of a seasoned RJ, introducing herself, her programme and her guests. Her voice is mellifluous, her style lively and engaging.
Equally articulate are her guests. Bhagwan Devi, dressed in a green sari, pallu pulled over her head, clearly relishes being on air: “I saved money without telling anyone in the family and helped my husband buy an auto rickshaw. He thought it was good proposition as there is no transport in rural Mewat,” she says, adjusting her headphone . Shakina shares how her savings helped the family build a house. “My son did not know I had the money, which I had saved over many years,” says Shakina.
Many live calls are coming in, mostly from local women. Filtering the calls is Mubina , 40, caretaker who doubles up as a cook and presenter. “I learnt everything by watching others ,” says Mubina.
The station receives about 50 calls every day, and many from women. Mubina says most complain of being overworked and talk about health prob- lems. “For them, radio has as emerged as a platform to ask questions and seek solutions, which is a big deal in Mewat where women haven’t had a voice. Empowering women is big achievement of our radio,” says Mubina, who is illiterate like majority of women here. “These women tell us what they will never tell a journalist from traditional media,” adds Anuradha. “They ask questions about pregnancy, child care and their rights. Anaemia is a widespread health problem.”
In many villages, women have formed self-help groups in the absence of formal credit institutions — they pool their savings to form a large corpus for individual and group help. Shakina feels the station will be more effective in connecting with the community if it also distributes radio sets. “Not many women have radios or mobile phones to tune in,” she rues.
“We have tried to solve this problem through narrowcasting. Our reporters play recorded programmes at village events where women also gather,” says Pooja Murada,” director, communication, Sehgal Foundation, a trust that set up the station in 2012 with financial help from the union ministry of agriculture.
Gaon ki Chaupal, Sehat Ka Pegam and Kisse Kahani, featuring folk musicians of the Mirasi community are the most popular programmes.
Noor Mohmamd, 65, from Mubarakpur Rawalki village, says he is a great fan of the radio station’s reporting on agriculture. “I have changed my farming practices; now I am using much less urea than earlier,” says Khan, who now shares his new-found farming knowledge with other listeners as a guest on programmes related to agriculture. “In my village, people love to hear my voice on the radio. I am called radio chacha. In the beginning, I was hesitant during live programmes, but now I love to speak into the mike.”
The reporter and presenters, mostly local youth, have countless stories to tell about the frustrations and aspirations of the people of Mewat. They had no experience or background in the media. They got a six-month training from Sehgal Foundation. “In my village of 250 families, only one house has a television. So, you can understand how important our role is as reporters in this region,” says Sohrab, a Meo-Muslim who lives in Notki, two km from the station.
The reporters invites authorities to the studio to answer questions about various governance issues. “Most of them are cooperative, but we have to pursue them hard,” says Mufeed Khan.
Sitting on the chaupal of Malab village, Hazi Ismail, a local, struggles to find the signals of Alfaz-e-Mewat and complains to Mufeed, who assures him it is a technical glitch that will be sorted out soon.
Ismail is cynical about the power of the media as a medium of change, especially in Mewat. “We get electricity for two hours and depend on tankers for potable water. This after 70 years of Independence,” he says, pointing to a tricolour atop a shop. “Very few communities have been treated so shabbily by successive governments as we Meo-Muslims,” says Ismail.
Reporting in Mewat is not always easy. Mufeed says it is next to impossible to report on issues relates to family planning. “People feel it is not necessary, what with their religious beliefs,” he says.
The reporters feel their stint will help them build a career in the media. While Shakir Hussain, 22, a graduate, wants to do a course in mass communication and join a national channel, Anuradha wants to join a commercial radio in Delhi. “I want to be a radio jockey . I am sure I can do it,” she says. Ask her about her handwritten message about the gift of respect to women on the wall, she says, “This is a message that needs to be spread across the country, not just in Mewat.”