Kitchen to console: A decade long association with the world of radio

Back in the day, the term homemaker hadn't made its glamorous entry into society’s dictionary. So, I was filed under the humble label of “housewife” — which basically meant I had a full-time job with zero pay, no bonuses, and certainly no bank account to flaunt. The only "credits" I collected were never-ending chores, needy toddlers, and a constant, nagging question playing on loop in my head — Am I even a good mother? Honestly, I believed I had mastered the fine art of mismanagement.

Enter the greatest life coach of all — Time. It gently whispered, “Relax. Breathe. You’re doing fine.” Something from within nudged and said – “ye dil maange more”.

One day while flipping through the newspaper (yes, we actually read those!), I saw an ad for an RJ audition at a private FM station. My childhood obsession with radio — those magical voices and melodies — bubbled up. “Why not give it a shot?” I thought, while my practical brain scoffed, “You don’t even know where this Shabdalaya place is!”

After a journey involving more buses and autos than a Hyderabadi wedding baraat, I finally reached. Only to see that 3,000 plus other radio-obsessed humans were already there. My chances looked slimmer than my post-delivery waistline.

I entered the dark audition room, read the script, smiled nervously, and they said, “Thank you.” Period. Neither a dramatic “we’ll get back to you,” nor “you’re shortlisted” was uttered. Just a simple “thank you.” It felt more like, “You may now leave quietly and never return.”

But surprise, surprise! A week later, I got a call for Round 2. I was thrilled... and suspicious. Did I really do well, or were the others that bad? Classic overthinking me.

Round 2 felt like a mental gymnastics event. I wasn’t the type to wrap my words in glitter or play the charm game — I just served up my honest thoughts, straight and sizzling and left thinking, “Okay, back to job hunting.”

And yet, one round turned into four... and then THE call came. I was in!

Looking back now, those seemingly odd questions during auditions weren’t just about radio. They were trying to get to me. To see if I could hold my ground, have an opinion, and still connect. Turns out, that was exactly what radio needed.

The excitement of being selected vanished the moment training details came in. Chennai? A whole week? Leaving my babies behind? I had no mobile phone — just one landline back home and a heart full of guilt.

But Chennai brought surprises. Hotel stay, buffet meals, and an intense crash course in radio software. I thought being an RJ was just about talking with music in between — HA! Terminologies like Station Jingle, Teasers, WAV formats flew over my head like UFOs. My colleagues were busy ideating while I... was napping. Honestly, the hotel bed was amazing.

Then came a moment I’ll never forget. A colleague saw me tearing up and gently asked if I wanted to call home. She handed me her spare phone — a gesture so simple yet so soul-touching. That one call recharged me. My kids were fine. I was breathing again.

Back in Hyderabad, we dived straight into pilot sessions. The launch date was nearing. We recorded shows, gave feedback, practiced endlessly — and then I got my first brutal reality check. One of my teammates looked me in the eye and said, “Yours is the worst show. Nothing is catchy.”

Ouch!!! That burned like salt poured straight into a fresh cut.

As if juggling kids, kitchen, erratic buses, argumentative autowaalas were not enough. Now this freshly brewed criticism? I was DONE. I typed my resignation, marched into my COO’s cabin with full Tollywood-level determination.

But...

If you’ve made it this far into my story, then grab a cup of irani chai and stay tuned — because picture abhi baaki hai mere doston.