At the Yazdani bakery at Fort, Zyros Zend, its 47-year-old co-owner, rushes about in his signature style — commanding, affable and very, very witty. Strike up a conversation about anything under the sun, and a few minutes into it, you would know he is a ham radio (amateur radio) enthusiast.
Actually, make that a hard-core, vociferous ham radio fanatic.
Dispelling myths about the ham radio being a redundant “stone-age phenomenon” takes up most of Zend’s time, he jokes.
“The thing with ham radios is that people subject you to inane lectures about having such a “baba aadam ke zamane ki hobby in the age of the Blackberry,” he recounts with a dramatic roll-of-the-eye. Zend, however, coolly asks for their fancy mobiles and plays the ‘special’ message alert tune. “As I tell them how it is actually a morse code for the abbreviation ‘S-M-S’, their embarrassed faces are worth smirking on over hours to follow,” he says, as the tad watered down version of the smirk slowly spreads over his face…
Zend is the founder of nine-year-old Mumbai Amateur Radio Society (MARS), a group that started off with 25 members and now boasts of over 250 dedicated hams (a common term used to address amateur radio users). Like everything about him, his story of initiation into the world of hams is quite interesting. “When I was young, I came across a story of a famous ham, Bharathi Prasad who had the code VU2RBI (every ham is assigned a unique code). Abroad, she was commonly referred to as the ‘Rare Beautiful Indian’. I was fascinated by the world of ham radios…” he remembers.
Till date, for Zend, tuning on to the Night Owls Net at 9.30pm every night is what sports and hobbies mean to most people. “After a long day, catching up with friends over the radio instead of chatting online or over sms gives you a different high. Apart from our group, each one of us has been assigned with a specific frequency by the government when we first obtained our licenses,” says Zend.
Three things are most likely to make one a ham radio fan — the quaint air about being on air, having a frequency for oneself, love for electronics and disaster/emergency management. Ankur Puranik, 28, for instance, saw ham radio as an opportunity to combine his love for wireless communication with his inclination to help out in relief activities. One of the most active members of MARS, Ankur is a dedicated volunteer who works with the police, the BMC, fire brigade, hospitals and the lost and found department during Ganesh visarjan every year. They all have frequencies assigned and coordinate to avert disaster and get prompt help in case of an emergency.
“What do you think came in handy during huge disasters like the 2001 Bhuj earthquake or the 26/7 deluge?” asks Zend. “All means of fancy communication had fallen flat and we hams were the last men standing,” he adds with flourish. “In fact,” he continues with a chuckle, “the BMC had sent its people with us to help out at Bhuj, and they carried satellite communication equipment worth Rs10,000. The cost of communication was Rs380 per minute, you see,” says Zend with mock interest. “But when we reached there, the equipment failed miserably and the personnel had no clue how to fix it. Our ham radios remained the only mode of communication between the two states,” he finishes with a sneer.
There is very little that can go wrong with communication through the ham radio. Earlier, hams largely communicated in morse code — a type of code that is used to send telegraphic information using rhythm. Morse code uses dots and lines to show the alphabet letters, numbers, punctuation and special characters of a given message. A traditional device called the straight key or a mechanical semi-automatic keyer (known as a “bug”) is used to produce and decode morse signals. “There’s little chance of error — you can communicate in morse code even if you have an accent, or a signal disturbance. A morse code cannot be distorted or misunderstood,” says Jayesh Banatwala, one of the very few hams who still prefers communication in morse over the much preferred practice of speaking on air. “However, we prefer not using the morse code in case of an emergency because the ham you are interacting with must be equally proficient. Otherwise, too much time may be wasted in sending and decoding messages.” He takes out an old straight key and presses the knob to produce the ‘dit’ and ‘dah’ sounds. Each ‘dit’ sound stands for a dot and a ‘dah’ sound means a dash. His finger becomes a blur as he types messages that take lesser time than the spoken word which often needs to be repeated on air in case of disturbance.
Ankur joins the conversation and emphasises that being a ham is thrilling in itself but it isn’t all fun and games. “When you’re on air, you maintain discipline and etiquette. You can exchange pleasantries and day-to-day details but never use your or your group’s frequency for any commercial or promotional activity. Every frequency is monitored by the government, so topics like politics and religion are sort of taboo,” he says. People have misused ham radios in the past and one has to be careful not to attract trouble. If someone intrudes on a ham’s frequency, one must request politely and if the menace continues, which is rare, a ham can complain to the Ministry of Communication and IT.“We are at our best behaviour on air,” says Zend. “When my wife overhears me on air — a docile contrast to my otherwise cheeky self, she doubts whether I’m the man she married,” he says.
As Ankur continues about the dos and don’ts in all solemnity, a few giggles and smirks start doing rounds around him. Dhanashree, a fellow ham and his wife, joins in. “We can assure you Ankur never let the hams around the world down — he never whispered sweet nothings to Dhanashree on air!” says one member. Ankur tries to maintain a straight face but soon gives up. “I first met Ankur in the ham radio class in 2005 as he was my teacher for the classes,” says Dhanashree. “We couldn’t miss it. Love was in the air — literally,” she says.
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