Selective Amnesia There was a point to this. But I forgot.


FM radio in Dubai is as asinine as it is in Madras

There are a lot of FM radio channels here in Dubai. Some of them are good. Some of them are not. Let’s get the good one out of the way first. A morning show, called ‘English breakfast, desi ma’am.’ (Pronounced mayem) by RJ Kritika. Her voice. And her laugh.

Now to the bad one.

An afternoon show. I have no idea what it is called. And don’t want to. The entire show is, apparently, about mushy, feely love songs. In Hindi. Which is enough to condemn the show forever to the fourth level of hell. But what follows is even, um, better.
There’s an RJ, obviously. He believes in speaking in a deep, manly voice. Except, it’s very hard to be manly when one’s speaking through one’s hat. And, if that weren’t enough, there are the callers.
Here’s how the show works. People send in mails/letters with their love/relationship issues. And this letter is read out to the whole world. Or, well, the part of the world that’s tuned in. With the sender’s name. Sparing no details.
Then the callers come in. The RJ asks each caller what the sender of the mail should do.

That’s right. Some arbit dude puts fundaes on some other arbit dude’s love life. And the RJ prompts him. And goads him/her. MTV Loveline, minus Malaika and Cyrus, multiplied by loads of stupidity.

Enough to make me puke my lunch out. Which’s a pity. They make good malai-koftas here.

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  1. Hey CG, you in Dubai? How long has it been? And what on earth is the Ad guy doing in the oasis?

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