Even today in several parts of India graduates driving rickshaws often swathe their faces in scarves
Even today, in several parts of India, graduates driving rickshaws often swathe their faces in scarves.So, how did the rickshaw driver end up in London? At university, an interest in music and poetry brought him into contact with theatre, and there were offers from political parties to stage plays to woo crowds at election meetings, and from religious organisations to perform at Hindu celebrations. A few years later, to pay his tuition fees at high school and university, Sharma became a rickshaw driver.In traditional Indian society, such work is considered way beneath the dignity of a Brahman. Sharma was forced to cover his face to escape the attentions of his relatives and friends. After the recent arrest of a young British woman who joked that she had a bomb in her bag at Miami airport, Sharma warned his listeners: “Humour is good for health.
But not at the airport.” A fellow-Hindi broadcaster sums up Sharma’s formula: “He understands what his listeners want He is spontaneous, quick-witted and versatile He empathises with his audience. On-air and off-air, he is the same man.”Sharma is a product of Indian poverty. Born into a high-caste Brahman family with an abysmally low income, in Rohtak in the Indian state of Haryana, he had to get up at 4am each day to milk the family cow; then he and his three brothers would sell the milk. His father, a teacher, made the equivalent of 50p a month, and his mother worked in a spinning-mill at night, earning 2p a day So he had to fend for himself early in life. If he moves his audiences with his poetry, he also makes them laugh with his rapid-fire jokes and snarling Hindi lines.He imitates George Bush, Tony Blair and a host of Indian politicians, concocting imaginary conversations between political leaders on current events “But I never make any offensive remark It is always light-hearted banter,” he says.
At 11, in the summer holidays, he learnt his first lessons in hard labour, shifting stones and cement-mix on a building site. For the younger audience, he presents a menu of Bollywood songs. For the more mature, he offers chinthan (a thought for the day) and news items. He strikes a personal chord with his listeners, sharing in their grief and happiness, as one listener, Pramila Agarwal, a 50-year-old librarian living in London, explains: “He touches our hearts and, over the years, has become a balm for our sorrows.”When Agarwal wrote to Sharma about her mother’s death, he came up with a personal condolence verse in his mid-morning broadcast “It really moved me His poetry and voice still linger in my heart,” she says.
Finally, I had to call up the police,” he says.His two-hour morning programme comprises entertainment, news and serious philosophical discourse. The station estimates (optimistically, perhaps) a total listenership of 1.75 million; and Sharma, 50, is undoubtedly its biggest star. His show attracts an average weekly audience in London of 125,000.His audience consists largely of the middle-aged and elderly, who flood him with letters, phone calls and Indian sweets Some are a little over-enthusiastic “I received 73 calls from an old woman all night last week. Even though I no longer have sole responsibility for any particular broadcasts, and I know that producers and drivers will always make sure that I arrive on time, I still have to set two alarm clocks at night, and I still wake up before either of them goes off.. “I’m so lucky,” says Ravi Sharma And the broadcaster smiles at his understatement.
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