While reading about evolutions of odia movies, I learned about the fire incident of 1930's that consumed the only remaining film of Sita Bibah, the first Odia film, one of our oldest treasures. Seeta Bibaha (1936) was the first Odia film directed by Mohan Sundar Deb Goswami; it presented the marriage of Lord Rama to Sita, based on the epic story Ramayana. It was a stark reminder of how fragile our cultural artifacts are, especially when they exist in limited copies. This is what spurred me into collecting Odia phonograph/ vinyl records or 78 RPMs. They are often vintage records that are made of shellac instead of modern PVC records. Also my collection includes later dated LPs, and EPs — not just as a hobby, but as an act of preserving history. Each crackle, every sound from these discs feels like a whisper from the past, a voice of a time that’s rapidly disappearing.

In Odisha, music had long been intertwined with folklore, temples, and jagannath bhajans. But the arrival of gramophones in the early 20th century changed everything. It wasn't just the voice of saints and temple bells anymore—it was the voices of legendary singers coming right into people’s homes, crisp and clear, straight from the spinning grooves of 78 RPM records.

It all started in the early 1930s, when gramophone records made their way into Odisha, riding the wave of India's gramophone revolution. Calcutta may have been the epicenter for recordings, but Odisha wasn't far behind in catching the melody. The first Odia record was pressed by Hindustan Records around 1936, featuring devotional songs that tugged at the heartstrings. People were captivated by the idea that the voices they admired could be captured and replayed at will. Devotional songs and folk music became household companions.

By the time the 1950s rolled around, the gramophone wasn’t just a novelty—it was a symbol of prestige in every Odia household that could afford it. Record labels like HMV (His Master's Voice) and Megaphone started recording popular Odia artists, ensuring the likes of Balakrushna Dash, Akshaya Mohanty, and Sikandar Alam became more than just regional stars. These vinyl records weren't just music; they were cultural artifacts, echoing the soul of Odisha.

Hoever the lack of proper preservation for old Odia records has tragically led to the loss of countless cultural treasures. Many of these records were produced in small batches, and without dedicated archival efforts, they have deteriorated or disappeared over time. Odisha’s early music and cinema history, once etched into these fragile vinyls, has suffered from neglect—exposed to the elements or simply forgotten as formats evolved. As a result, many original recordings, especially those from the early days of Odia cinema in the 1930s and 1940s, have been lost forever, leaving significant gaps in our cultural heritage.

My collection spans different eras of Odia music—there’s the melancholic beauty of Prafulla Kar’s compositions, the old classics of Balakrushna Dash, and even some devotional gems from Akshaya Mohanty. But the rarity of these records often strikes me. Many of them were produced in such limited quantities that once lost, they’re gone forever, just like the film reels of yesteryear. Some records have taken me years to find, each one a symbol of resilience against time’s erosion. Someday, I hope to write a book documenting this forgotten discography, a tribute to these lost sounds that deserve to be heard again.

My collection spans different eras of Odia cinema and music. From the early days of films like Amada Baata(1964), Nua Bou(1962) and Arundhati (1967) to the golden age of the 1950s and '70s with classics like Sansaara(1970), Kanaka lata (1974),Mamata(1975), Gapa Hele Bi Sata(1976), Chilika Teerey (1977) and Naaga Phasa(1977) . The later years brought gems like Aparichitaa(1980), Aarati(1981), Akhi Trutiya(1981), Batasi Jhada(1981), Manasi(1981), Jhia ti Sita Pari(1983), Bhakta Salabega(1983), Hakim Babu(1985),Palataka(1985), Sabu Maya re Baya(1986) . These records, though rare, hold echoes of Odisha’s cultural evolution, many of which have been lost over time, much like the film reels from those limited production runs. Someday, I wish to write a book documenting this journey, archiving these lost melodies and the stories behind them.

And while my heart belongs to Odia records, I occasionally find myself drawn to Hindi vinyls too, like Gandhi Ji’s speech or C. Rajagopalachari’s talks. These, too, hold their own weight in history. It’s all part of the same mission.

To ensure these sounds are accessible to everyone, I’ve also created a YouTube channel where I share videos of the records being played. It’s my small way of letting these old songs and voices live on in the digital world, so they can reach far beyond my collection.

Prathana by Madhusudan Rao -- Film: Kanakalata (1974)-

Aau Mu Na Jibi Jamuna (1960s)

Eei Pana Ne Mora (1960s)

Khulana Sundari - Part 2 (1961)