Evolution of TV in India: From Radio and Doordarshan to OTT

Evolution of Television in India – A Personal Nostalgia

I was born in 1977, in a time when television had not yet entered most Indian homes. In Palakkad, where I grew up, the idea of a television set was almost mythical. Information, entertainment, and connection with the outside world flowed through a small wooden box that sat quietly in the corner of many homes: the radio. For my family and for most families around us, radio was the primary window to the world. It was a routine, almost a ritual. The radio would come alive at certain fixed hours of the day, bringing voices from faraway places into our modest home.

The dominant presence in those days was All India Radio, which we simply called AIR. It was the only reliable broadcaster available to us. Unlike today, when hundreds of channels compete for attention, our listening choices were simple and limited. Yet those limited choices felt rich and meaningful. Each broadcast had a certain anticipation attached to it. When the radio was switched on, everyone in the house instinctively paid attention.

Our local listening routine revolved around a few specific stations. One of them was the Thrissur station, which broadcast Malayalam news, radio dramas, and a steady stream of Malayalam songs. Those songs, many of them from classic Malayalam cinema, became part of the background music of my childhood. Sometimes the programmes would include stage plays adapted for radio. Even without visuals, those dramas were powerful enough to create entire worlds in our imagination.

Another station we frequently tuned into was from Coimbatore. That station had a different flavour because it broadcast Tamil songs and programmes. Tamil film music was extremely popular in Kerala during that period, and the Coimbatore station was our gateway to that musical world. The signal sometimes faded in and out, especially during the monsoon months, but that only added to the charm. Adjusting the antenna, slightly rotating the radio knob, or even repositioning the radio itself became small acts of technical ingenuity in the household.

Then there was the national broadcast from Delhi. This was where we received English news bulletins and, most importantly, live cricket commentary. Cricket commentary on radio was an event in itself. The commentators had a way of describing the game so vividly that listeners could visualize every ball. The rise and fall of their voices mirrored the tension of the match. Entire neighborhoods would gather around radios during important matches. It was not uncommon to see people standing outside a house just to catch snippets of commentary drifting through an open window.

News, in those days, arrived at fixed times. There was no concept of “breaking news.” My parents would tune in to the news only twice a day, usually once in the morning and once in the evening. Those bulletins were treated with great seriousness. The announcer’s voice had authority and clarity. There were no dramatic sound effects or flashy headlines—just calm delivery and carefully chosen words. It created a sense of trust that is difficult to replicate today.

For several years of my early childhood, this was our media universe: radio signals floating invisibly through the air, connecting us to nearby towns and distant cities. Television, though occasionally mentioned in newspapers or conversations, still felt like something belonging to bigger cities.

Then came a turning point that would change the Indian media landscape forever: the 1982 Asian Games, popularly known as ASIAD. Although the Games themselves were held in Delhi, their impact was felt across the country. One of the most significant developments associated with the Games was the rapid expansion of television broadcasting in India. The government wanted the event to reach a national audience, and that meant expanding television infrastructure on an unprecedented scale.

Suddenly television sets began appearing in towns and cities where they had never been seen before. In Palakkad too, the wave reached us. My family decided to buy a television set around that time. It was not a casual purchase; it was a significant investment for any household. I still remember the excitement surrounding that decision.

The television set we bought was from Dynora, a brand that many Indian households will recall with nostalgia. As far as I remember, there were only about ten Dynora sets available in Palakkad when they first arrived. Owning one of them felt like being part of a small technological revolution. The set was bulky, with wooden panels and physical knobs. It demanded respect and careful handling.

Once the television arrived in our home, it immediately became the center of attention. Neighbors would sometimes drop in to watch programmes, especially in the early days when television sets were still rare. The entire living room arrangement subtly shifted to accommodate this new focal point.

The only broadcaster we could receive at that time was Doordarshan, India’s national television network. The signal was not always perfect, and the antenna on the roof often required adjustment. But when the picture appeared clearly on the screen, it felt almost magical.

Doordarshan programming in those days had a distinctive character. The content was largely in Hindi, reflecting its national orientation. One of the regular programmes was Krishi Darshan, which focused on agriculture and rural development. For urban audiences it might have seemed educational or even dull, but for many viewers across India it was practical and relevant.

Alongside such programmes were some of the earliest Indian television serials that would later achieve legendary status. One of them was Yeh Jo Hai Zindagi, a comedy series that brought a refreshing style of storytelling to television. The humour felt natural and relatable.

Another major serial was Hum Log, often regarded as India’s first soap opera. It followed the lives of an ordinary middle-class family and touched upon social issues that resonated deeply with viewers.

Then there was Nukkad, which depicted the everyday struggles and friendships of people in a small urban neighborhood. Its characters felt so real that many viewers felt they personally knew them.

One of the most memorable historical dramas of that era was Buniyaad, which explored the emotional and social impact of the Partition of India. For viewers like us, it was not just entertainment but also a window into history.

Over time, television broadcasting expanded further. Eventually we began receiving a Malayalam channel from Thiruvananthapuram. For Malayalam-speaking audiences, this was an important milestone. Hearing our own language regularly on television created a stronger connection with the medium.

The arrival of Malayalam programming also changed the dynamics of television viewing in Kerala households. Programmes became more relatable. News bulletins covered local issues, cultural events, and regional developments. The distance between the broadcaster and the viewer seemed to shrink.

The next major transformation came in the 1990s with the arrival of satellite television. This development fundamentally altered the Indian media environment. Suddenly the single-channel world of Doordarshan expanded into a multi-channel universe.

One of the earliest satellite networks that entered Indian homes was Star TV. Through satellite signals, a variety of international and regional channels became available.

In Kerala, the emergence of Asianet marked a new era in Malayalam broadcasting. It offered entertainment programmes, serials, and news that catered specifically to Malayalam audiences.

Similarly, Sun TV became hugely popular among Tamil-speaking viewers. For households like ours that enjoyed Tamil cinema and music, Sun TV added another layer of entertainment.

Access to these channels was made possible through local cable operators. In those early days of cable television, the system was extremely localized. Usually there was a single cable operator serving a neighbourhood or town. Wires ran across rooftops and electric poles, connecting dozens of homes to a central control room where satellite signals were received and distributed.

Our cable operator was a familiar figure in the locality. If the signal went out—which happened quite frequently—we knew exactly where to go. Someone from the family would visit the operator’s small office to lodge a complaint. Sometimes the problem would be resolved quickly; at other times we would simply wait, hoping the picture would return before our favourite programme started.

Despite these occasional frustrations, cable television opened up an entirely new viewing experience. For the first time, we had multiple channels to choose from. News, movies, music shows, and sports events were available almost around the clock.

As the cable industry matured, larger companies began replacing small local operators. One of the most prominent among them in Kerala was Asianet Cable Vision. With better infrastructure and more organized service, cable television became more reliable.

Then came another technological leap: Direct-to-Home broadcasting, commonly known as DTH. Instead of relying on neighborhood cable networks, television signals were transmitted directly from satellites to small dish antennas installed on individual homes.

One of the pioneers in this field in India was Tata Sky. The arrival of DTH services dramatically increased the number of channels available to viewers. Hundreds of channels—covering news, movies, sports, documentaries, and international programming—became accessible through a single subscription.

For households like ours, this felt like entering yet another new era of television. The installation of the dish antenna itself was an event. Technicians would carefully align it toward the satellite, ensuring the strongest possible signal.

With DTH, channel clarity improved significantly compared to earlier cable systems. Programme guides appeared on the screen, allowing viewers to browse schedules with ease. Remote controls became more sophisticated, and navigating through channels became faster and more convenient.

Yet even this phase would eventually give way to another transformation. Over the last decade, the rise of high-speed internet and digital streaming platforms has fundamentally changed how we consume video content.

Today many households rely on broadband connections rather than traditional cable or DTH systems. In our case, services like Jio broadband have brought high-speed internet directly into our homes.

With this connectivity comes access to the world of OTT platforms—Over-The-Top streaming services that deliver movies, series, documentaries, and live events through the internet. Instead of waiting for scheduled broadcasts, viewers can now watch content whenever they want.

This shift represents the most dramatic change of all. From a time when we waited patiently for two daily news bulletins on the radio, we have arrived at an era where unlimited information and entertainment are available instantly.

Looking back across these decades, the journey from radio to OTT feels almost unbelievable. Each phase—radio, early television, satellite broadcasting, cable networks, DTH, and finally digital streaming—reflects a broader story of technological progress in India.

For someone born in 1977, these changes were not abstract developments. They unfolded gradually in our own living rooms, shaping our routines, conversations, and memories.

The small radio that once connected us to Thrissur, Coimbatore, and Delhi has long since disappeared from daily use. The Dynora television set that once drew curious neighbors into our home is now only a memory. The cable wires that once crisscrossed rooftops have largely given way to invisible digital signals carried through fiber-optic networks.

Yet each stage carries its own nostalgia. The quiet anticipation of radio news, the excitement of the first television programmes, the thrill of discovering multiple channels, the convenience of DTH, and the endless possibilities of streaming—all these experiences form part of a continuous story.

In many ways, the evolution of television in India mirrors the evolution of India itself: from scarcity to abundance, from simplicity to complexity, from a handful of voices to a vast chorus of perspectives.

And for those of us who witnessed the entire journey—from the crackling voice of the radio announcer to the crystal-clear streams of OTT platforms—it remains a remarkable story to remember.