Cabling the Nation: Untold Story of Indian Cable TV
(When
Idea Preceded Its Time)
Seventh Friday Get-Together at Press
Club: April 3, 2026
Vanam Jwala Narasimha Rao
The
seventh uninterrupted Friday evening get-together of a few willing, like-minded
members at the Press Club Hyderabad on April 3, 2026, turned into an absorbing
recollection of the untold beginnings of ‘Cable Television in India’ narrated
not as history written in hindsight, but as lived experience marked by
persistence, setbacks, and an almost improbable chain of human connections.
What stood out that evening was not merely continuity, but the emergence of
this unexpected narrative, one that had remained for decades in the backdrop of
India’s Technological Transformation.
In
tune with the steady practice the members have adopted since initiating this
weekly journey, the meet did not announce itself with formality, nor did it
attempt to outgrow the quiet rhythm that has become its identity. It simply
continued, regardless of numbers, yet ensuring excellence, adding another layer
to an evolving tradition where memory, experience, and reflection meet without
pretence.
Present
at the table were: Bhandaru Srinivasa Rao, GK Murthy, and myself, joined
briefly by BS Ramakrishna and Press Club Secretary Ramesh. Into this circle
entered KD Prasad, a Chartered Accountant by profession, as a guest for the
evening. As the conversation unfolded, it became evident that his journey
extended far beyond the boundaries of his discipline.
Incidentally,
though our contribution to his efforts was negligible, it gave both me and
Bhandaru Srinivasa Rao an opportunity to reminisce a few aspects, having, in a
small way, travelled alongside parts of his (plus late Kuppuswamy) journey.
Prasad’s narrative did not begin with success, nor did it end in triumph. Yet,
true to the spirit of Rudyard Kipling’s IF, treating ‘Triumph and Disaster’ as
two impostors, he lived through his journey with remarkable balance.
From
the way he narrated, it was evident that Prasad maintained emotional
equilibrium, viewing success and failure alike as temporary states, capable of
misleading one into either arrogance or despair. His journey began with a keen
observation, an accidental encounter in Coimbatore, where his friend GKD, using
simple antenna on the terrace, managed to receive overseas television signals.
What might have remained mere curiosity for many became, for Prasad, a
possibility.
From
that possibility grew a relentless pursuit: to make Cable Television accessible
and affordable to a wider population in India, long before the system found
formal recognition. What followed was not a linear journey, but a prolonged
engagement with systems not yet ready to comprehend, let alone approve, what he
envisioned. From the early 1980s to the mid-1990s, his efforts took him across
corridors of power, meeting bureaucrats, technocrats, political leaders, and
policymakers at every level, from legislators to Union Ministers, and even
reaching the Prime Minister’s Office more than once.
The
idea itself appeared simple. The process, however, was anything but. At the
time, cable television fell into an administrative vacuum, requiring the
concurrence of multiple government departments, none fully prepared to take
ownership. Files moved back and forth, paused, returned, and often stagnated.
At one stage, the proposal for a licensing system was not merely delayed but
resisted, dismissed as impractical or premature, and even termed ‘Illegal.’
Yet,
what gave the narrative its depth was not bureaucratic resistance alone, but
the human encounters that punctuated the journey. One such moment, recounted
with quiet emphasis, captured the unpredictability that often shapes outcomes.
During one of his many trips to Delhi, after a week of unsuccessful attempts to
secure an appointment with the concerned Union Minister, Prasad prepared to
return, resigned, but not defeated. It was then, in the early hours of an
ordinary night, as he was preparing to sleep, that an unintended knock on his
door brought into his life a stranger who would remain a friend.
The
man, as described by Prasad, was hefty, tall, and striking in appearance, with
a friendly demeanour. Having mistakenly knocked on the door, assuming the room
was his, he did not leave immediately after realizing the error. Instead, he
paused, engaged in conversation, and, upon learning of Prasad’s efforts,
offered help without being asked. Introducing himself as Tony, a Member of the
Legislative Assembly from Bihar, he urged Prasad to postpone his departure.
What followed was an intervention as unexpected as it was effective.
Through
this chance meeting, doors that had remained closed opened with surprising
ease. The Minister not only granted time but initiated movement on the
long-pending proposal, even hosting them for breakfast. The story, however, did
not transform into immediate success. Committees were formed, discussions
initiated, yet decisions remained deferred. Governments changed, priorities
shifted, and the same bureaucratic hurdles resurfaced in different forms.
Still, the effort did not cease.
At
another juncture, during the tenure of Prime Minister PV Narasimha Rao, the
matter resurfaced at the highest level, facilitated by Prasad’s acquaintance
with a close relative of the Prime Minister during morning walks. When informed
that cable systems were being treated as ‘Illegal’ in the absence of licensing,
the Prime Minister, according to Prasad, responded with characteristic
directness, questioning the inconsistency between policy and practice.
Astonishingly,
what followed was not the introduction of a structured licensing regime, as
Prasad had long pursued, but a decision aligned with the broader economic
reforms of the time: de-licensing. The outcome was paradoxical. The system was
allowed to proliferate, but without the very framework Prasad had worked to
establish. In his own understated summation, it was an instance of ‘Operation Successful,
Patient Died.’ The vision materialized, but not in the manner he had intended.
For
a brief period, like many others, Prasad participated in the emerging cable
network ecosystem, laying cables and experimenting with distribution, before
stepping away, recognizing the divergence between expectation and reality. Yet,
the narrative did not carry disappointment as its dominant tone. Instead, it
revealed something more enduring: the value of effort, the unpredictability of
outcomes, and the role of individuals, often unknown, often incidental, in
shaping larger developments.
As
the evening progressed, it became evident that this was not merely a story
about Cable Television. It was about initiative that precedes recognition,
about ideas that exist before systems are ready for them, and about persistence
that does not depend on immediate validation. In a quiet, almost personal
aside, one more thread emerged, one that belonged not to public history, but to
private memory.
Nearly
forty years ago, on a rainy day, Prasad and I first met, not through formal
introduction, but through circumstance. Waiting separately for an
auto-rickshaw, we found ourselves stepping into the same vehicle when one
finally arrived. It moved before either of us could clarify our destinations,
only for us to discover, in that small shared space, that we were headed along
the same route. What began as coincidence turned into acquaintance, and over
time into a familiarity that would, decades later, find itself revisited in
this very setting.
Such
moments, seemingly incidental, acquire meaning only in retrospect. They remind
us that not all beginnings announce themselves, and not all connections reveal
their significance immediately. If earlier Friday meetings established a
pattern of recollection, reflection, and documentation, the seventh gathering
added a distinct dimension, the recovery of narratives that history records
only partially, if at all. Not every contribution to public life finds its
place in formal archives. Many remain embedded in personal journeys, waiting
for the right moment, and the right audience, to be told.
These
Friday evenings are evolving into a quiet forum where stories are remembered,
not performed, and effort is valued despite uneven outcomes. Through
conversation, individuals reclaim their place in larger narratives. The rhythm
continues: Meet, Reflect, Document, and now enriched by a deeper call: Unearth,
Revisit, Recognize, for what lingers in the backdrop is often unrecorded
presence awaiting light.
