India today has more than 800 satellite and cable TV channels, transmitting in all the country’s major languages. It’s hard to imagine that there was a time—a little over a quarter of a century ago—when there were just two national channels, both from the government-owned Doordarshan (DD) broadcasting corporation.
What if you wanted to watch more than DD’s staple mix of soaps and variety shows? Alternatives to its bland news broadcasts, covering government meetings and the comings and goings of ministers? You called Sanjay, the cable guy or wallah (a Hindustani word for someone who specializes in a particular activity or profession). Or maybe his name was Arvind or Kumar. He would show up at your apartment and in 15 minutes hook up your TV to the satellite dish he had installed on the roof. Suddenly you had foreign channels like Star TV, CNN and MTV. Domestic satellite channels--Zee TV, Sun TV. Bollywood movies. Cricket. More choices than you ever imagined.
The government, with only an outdated 19th-century Telegraph Act on the books, never bothered to regulate the business. Sanjay was left to string his cable along alleys, across rooftops and down stairwells, using whatever pole or ceiling light fixture was handy. He charged a modest monthly fee but made a good profit because his expenses were low—coaxial cable and connectors, and a satellite dish. He didn’t pay anything for the programming you watched. In the 1990s, most cable wallahs were pirates. Local government officials turned a blind eye to their operations, either because they lacked the regulatory power or because Sanjay had already hooked up their homes and given them a special discount.
It was only a matter of time before legitimate businesses moved in on this lucrative market. They concluded licensing agreements with local governments, paid for their programming and started offering tiers of service. Most cable wallahs were pushed out of middle-class urban neighborhoods to the slums or rural areas, where people could not afford what the cable companies charged.
Today, it’s estimated that two thirds of Indian households have TV, and most of them receive it by cable or satellite, not over-the-air. The result, at least in urban areas where several companies offer service, is that utility poles sometimes sag from the weight of cables and boxes. High winds can bring the whole intertwined bundle crashing down onto the street. At that point, you hope that the company remembered to hire a cable wallah to sort out the mess.