This remains a special childhood memory. After all, the transistor was precious. For, through it, one listened to Ameen Sayani bring 'Binaca Geetmala' to all of us.
Sayani passed away, but his distinct voice rings in many ears. Pleasant and gentle, it drew and kept one's attention ensconced for as long as the voice wished to wield its magic. He played a crucial role in building a brand, rather than branded content in today's lexicon.
Binaca Geetmala — later, Cibaca Geetmala — ensured that he became a brand in himself, manifested across radio spots, jingles and shows, as well as in a few films.
I first met Ameenji during my early days of advertising. Over the years, we talked, shared and imbibed at several events. I learnt a lot from him about voice culture. He was also a trans-generational connection — with my parents having grown up listening to him in their youth, and me in my childhood. He played a long innings, with class. His craft drew us to a gentle space with an emotional palette of love, pathos and humour.
Much has been said about his voice, the texture and quality of expression. But the personality behind that voice was distinct, as was Sayani's ability to connect, communicate and bond with the audience through a fascinating medium: radio.
In the late-60s and early-70s, India was emerging from the shadows of wars of the previous decade. The Nehruvian socialistic era reflected the times of austerity and need-based consumption. It was the time of waiting for years for a scooter or a gas connection.