Look Back At The Underground Broadcast Movements That Amplified India’s Freedom Struggle

Throughout our history, music and broadcast media have been necessary ingredients in the recipe for successful movements. We often tend to underestimate the power of one’s voice—of the ripple effect one visionary idea can cause if it falls on the right ears. However, the patriots understood its importance, utilizing it as a catalyst for nationalistic change. While we revere those who have been revered in history books, the stories of the low-profile renegades often go unnoticed. As we near the 79th anniversary of our Independence, we’re hitting rewind on the revolution to uncover the sonic movement that carried it. 

For many of our favorite Indian homegrown and underground artists, be it KR$NA’s “Kaisa mera Desh,” or Vedaan’s “Voice of the Voiceless”, the inherent urge to question socio-political power structures is almost second nature. Take the historic case of poet Madhav Shukhla Murabadwala, who penned “Meri Mata Ke Sar Par Taj Rahe,” an anthem that colonial rulers banned but was wholeheartedly sung by freedom fighters in jail. Likewise, D.K. Pattamal fearlessly included patriotic compositions in her Carnatic concert during the pre-independence era, a time when such actions were frowned upon by authorities.

Our country has been no stranger to grassroots movements, especially while under colonial rule. From DIY technology to guerrilla radio stations, India’s freedom struggle saw radio and music harmoniously join hands.

Radio and broadcast culture were first brought forth by British rule in the summer of 1923. Multiple radio stations were set up across Bombay (Mumbai), Bengal, and Madras (Chennai), which were neither accessible nor affordable to the masses. To further cement their web of control, the imperialists set up ‘All India Radio’ (now known as Akashvani), a national radio network, in 1936. Amidst the tidal wave of nationalism, it was a great platform for Indian classical musicians to display their talent. However, the biased reporting of the network failed to garner public trust. Filling this need gap, Subhash Chandra Bose initiated the first underground Indian broadcast, Azaad Hind Radio, from Germany and Singapore. A shortwave radio service that crossed geographical boundaries, it served as a multi-faceted platform for Bose to spread awareness about the Indian freedom struggle and challenge the fallacies of British control. 

On the home front, a growing sentiment of resistance against the oppressors was brewing.

At the peak of the Quit India movement, a growing protest against the British military control over India, the imperialists were doing their best to silence the nationalistic voices of the leaders of the freedom struggle. Amidst severe censorship of print media, the patriots were trying to find methods that could help them disseminate vital information without the British forces knowing. One such man was Nanik Motwane, the brains behind Chicago Radio, now known as Motwane Private Ltd.

A second-generation migrant businessman and a Congress Party member, he was the son of Gianchand Motwane, a passionate technician and the owner of Chicago Telephone & Radio Co. In 1929, while attending one of Gandhi’s charged public addresses, Motwane noticed how he was struggling to get his voice across at pro-independence public meetings. With distorted sound and a limited range, those gathered were strained to hear his message of swaraj. This realization was instrumental in igniting his quest to amplify the voices of Independent India through technology. As part of his R&D process, Motwane tried to replicate U.S.- and U.K.-based microphones, loudspeakers, and megaphones along with his small team of engineers. Two years later, he was finally ready with a public address system, which he dubbed “Chicago Radio.” The moniker was borrowed from Motwane’s father’s company (Chicago Telephone and Radio Co.) Interestingly, the patriarch had also adopted, with due permission, the original name from a U.S.-based corporation called Chicago Telephone Supply Company. While the title was global, the intent was purely Hindustani—to make voices heard. A bootstrapped, homegrown brand, it had over 200 employees, going on to become one of the finest quality commercial sound systems, emphasizing the power of sound.

Armed with bulky suitcases, Motwane would reach the locations of the party meetings a day prior. Carrying loudspeakers and microphones from rally to rally, he would personally tend to their efficiency and setup. Whether they were tied to bamboo poles or sprawled on the ground, these speakers and microphones played a pivotal role in amplifying the message of autonomous Indian rule, one address at a time

Slowly but surely, Chicago Radio rose to socio-political significance, aiding some ace orators to deliver iconic, soul-stirring speeches. Working closely with the top leaders of India, Motwane laid the foundation for a sonic uprising. From Lata Mangeshkar’s tear-jerking “Aye Mere Vatan Ke Logon” performance and Nehru’s “tryst with destiny” speech to Dwight Eisenhower’s 1959 address, the sonorous echo of anti-colonialism was carried forth through these very speakers. Sans disruption and distortion, a crystal-clear message of Azaadi reverberated across India.

Likewise, Motwane also lent a helping hand to another poignant broadcaster personality, Usha Mehta. A 22-year-old fiery political science student, Mehta participated in her first protest at the age of 8. A staunch follower of Gandhian principles, she decided to walk the path of the revolution against her parents’ wishes. No stranger to the growing suppression of Indian voices, she understood the influence of broadcast networks early on. It was not a want but a dire need.

Taking cues from Bose’s Azaad radio, Mehta began to lay the foundation for an ambitious venture, the secret Congress radio, in 1942. Along with Bombay-based activists Chandrakant and Vithaldas Jhaveri, the first-of-its-kind bilingual radio was helmed by three amateurs, who aimed to set up a burgeoning network of underground stations across the country. Here, her team received the support of Nariman Printer, a trained radio technician, and Motwane, who aided with equipment supply and technological assistance.

On Aug. 27, 1942, the lines “This is Congress Radio, calling on 42.34 m from somewhere in India” first aired for all Indians who were tuned in.

This was the famous opener of their segment, which was followed by “Saare Jahan Se Accha”, and ended with “Vande Mataram,” both of which were written and composed by Indian artists—Mohammed Iqbal and Bankim Chandra Chattopadhyay. These anthems became synonymous with their radio timings, an identity marker of reliability. The program consisted of Quit India-centric news and political discourse. Alongside that, young broadcasters narrated speech transcripts of revolutionary leaders, making it easier to spread the voice of even the arrested ones. An anti-colonial initiative, it gave the movement a distinctive sound, injecting Indian citizens with authentic, unfiltered coverage. From worker rights to civilian unrest, uprisings were rightfully documented and reported.

Unfortunately, Mehta, along with all others involved, was arrested by the British soldiers in November 1942. Nevertheless, she promptly carried out the scheduled broadcast, continuing to play “Vande Mataram” even as the police knocks grew louder. Through a raid on their Bombay setup, the police seized twenty-two cases containing recordings and other evidence. As the identity of the radio and broadcasters was revealed in newspapers, what would have been a smear campaign turned into a story of national bravery. Mehta, unsparingly proud of her endeavor, pleaded not guilty while admitting to the involvement. While her sentence was four years, she emerged more fulfilled, continuing to inspire another generation as a teacher at Mumbai’s Wilson College.

Presently, you would also spot the iconic logo of Chicago Radio in Bollywood films like Gangubai Kathiawadi and Ae Watan Mere Watan.

These late revolutionaries laid the stepping stones to what is now a blossoming network of Indian voices. From underground broadcasts and FM radios to the podcast wave, our evolving media consumption methods have one thing in common: a quest for authenticity. While we battle press freedom and the sanitization of media today, too, the growing network of independent podcasts, such as Unfiltered By Samdish, comes to the rescue with their on-the-ground, unfiltered reporting. Their continuous efforts to shout the truth through sound exceed generations.