Our member Kumkum Banerjee talks to Rimjhim Bhattacherjee about her illustrious career with the All India Radio.
As a young girl, did you always aspire to join the AIR?
– No, it was entirely serendipitous. I had completed my Masters and was working on a patrika named Ekaleen with great zeal. A few of my friends and I had started it and we handled the all the work— from gathering material to arranging for its publication. Writers like Sunil Gangopadhyay, Shirshendu and Shankha Ghosh wrote for us.
Meanwhile, a brother of mine heard of the vacancy at AIR. He himself filled the form, made me sign it and delivered it. When I received the joining letter, it was for AIR Siliguri. It wasn’t possible for me to join there. I let AIR know that. Finally, Indira Devi herself wrote to me to join AIR Kolkata. I couldn’t believe it. It was as if the job was meant for me.
What was your work like at the AIR?
– It was challenging in the beginning, like all new jobs are. I had to learn the art of queuing, fading in and fading out and so on. I learnt quickly and well. Soon, even artists were praising my work. I usually didn’t do announcements; I worked for special shows like Mahilamahal and so on. I got transferred to various departments as the years wore on but everywhere my work was met with enthusiasm and praise.
Can you share with us some of your golden moments at work?
– I worked with the AIR for a long 38 years. Asking me to relate a few golden moments would be like looking for needles in a haystack. (laughs)
I cherish the entire journey and the people I had the opportunity to meet, interact and work with. I still cannot forget the day I spoke to Pankaj Kumar Mullick. I stood staring at him in total awe. I was a little child when he had composed the music for ‘Diner sheshe ghumer deshe.’ When I asked him about it, he told me how he had visited Rabindranath Tagore and presented the composition before him with a lot of trepidation. Can you imagine the good fortune of meeting such people and hearing stories like these almost every day?
The day I met Birendra Krishna Bhadra also remains indelible. Nobody would look at the slim, fair man and imagine that he would have as powerful a voice as he did.
Tell me some more about the people you had the opportunity to work with.
– (laughs) This can take ages. People like Kanan Devi and Manju Dey left deep impressions on me. I have never met a woman as genteel and as warm as Kanan Devi.
Did you know Manju Dey drove and could even change the tires of her car herself?!
They were women who both inspired me a great deal. Apart from this, I have worked with the likes of Gouri Ghosh, Sarajubala Devi, Suchitra Mitra, Kanika to modern day artists like Moonmoon Sen and Rupa Ganguly.
And you are an artist in your own right…
– (smiles embarrassedly) I wrote and I used to recite but I was never one for self-publicity. I love poetry and I still recite when acquaintances ask me to. I have also written several songs and books of poetry, rhymes and other writings. As I said, I never liked to publicise but people close to me know that I write.
What would you say is your greatest achievement?
– I don’t look at achievement in terms of awards or as a solitary great event. For me, my achievement lay in my building friendships with certain artists, which went much deeper than the strictly professional. It lay in my work being deeply appreciated by artists and audience alike. My name used to be announced for some shows I hosted or organised. I had people writing to me from both Kolkata and Bangladesh telling me how much they liked my show and the way I presented it. I still have some of those letters. Once, a young boy from Bangladesh even visited my house to congratulate me on my work! I have had several letters inviting me to visit Bangladesh, but that has not been possible as yet.
Is there anything in particular that you would like to share with your readers?
– I’ve often been asked what I did to maintain my voice. I always laughed when I heard this question because I really took no special effort. I think that if we love our work enough so much so that it becomes a passion for us, it will always express itself in the work we produce. It becomes unnecessary then to focus on ancillary things. I’ve learnt another thing from my interactions with all the artists and great people I’ve had the fortune to meet. The greater you grow in Art, the more humble you become and the more respectful towards others. When your profession teaches you so much, you know you’ve lived a fulfilling life and the journey, with its ups and downs, was completely worth the effort.

Support Elders member Ratna Sen shares the story of her life with Rimjhim Bhattacherjee.
As a young girl, I grew up in a very conservative family where a durwan would accompany me even if I had to go two houses down. Those were days when women didn’t venture out too much and my father, although he loved me like no other, was very strict about this. Life changed dramatically after I married. My husband worked for Bharat Petroleum and had a transferable job. Wherever he went, I went with him— Burdwan, Behrampore, Asansol, Gujarat, Bombay. Sometimes he used to be away on tour for as many as fifteen days at a stretch and I had to manage on my own. Can you imagine the leap this was for me? I enjoyed my freedom though. I liked travelling to new places. Each new city had its own idiosyncrasies, its offerings of happy and sad days and new friendships. Some friendships forged in these new cities stand strong even today.
I used to spend my days immersed in chores, books, embroidery and music. I was trained in embroidery and it had almost become an addiction for me. I loved stitching patterns on panjabis, table covers and so on. But music engrossed me like nothing else. Along with completing my Master’s in Home Science before I was married, I used to take singing lessons at Geetabitan. I even learnt to play the Hawaiian guitar from a young chap who gave me lessons at home. My husband always encouraged my love for music and tried to arrange for guitar teachers for me in every new city we visited. Some of my most precious memories are with my son in Bombay—the two of us playing music, he on his Spanish guitar and me on my Hawaiian—alo amar alo ogo aloye bhubon bhora…those were magical days…
But enough nostalgia. Let me now tell you of an incident that happened while I was in Asansol…
I used to live on the ground floor of a house. Another family of mother and daughter, who I was very friendly with, occupied the first floor. Three steps led to my room. My husband was away on tour. It was late evening. I had been reading a book and had dozed off for a while when I suddenly heard a rustling noise, like the crumpling of paper. My eyes were immediately drawn to the door which I had left open for the evening breeze to pass through. What I saw made me freeze on the cot for a second before I gathered up all my courage and ran up to the first floor. I was so scared that I was unable to speak. Very cautiously the daughter crept downstairs and ran up to report the vision to her mother— a gigantic snake, with its hood raised, was sitting calmly on the steps leading to my room! Immediately, the mother wrapped a thick cloth over a stick, dipped it in kerosene and setting it to flame, brandished it in front of the terrifying creature. It slithered away into the darkness with a hiss. I slept upstairs that night. The nineteen or twenty year old me cocooned in my natal home would never have imagined, in her wildest fancy, that she would one day have an experience like this! Read Less ….