Take the IPod out of your ears!

June 20, 2010

This megapolis, as most of them do, thrives on sound. It is the blood swirling madly and continually through the city’s tangled veins.

For me, morning starts with the soft hum of the air conditioner, backed by a few feint birdsongs and the distance and erratic sound of sharp beeps.  I hear a wallah or two announcing his trade or calling to collect cardboard or newspaper.  From nearby comes the hiss of gas-powered stoves.  Oh and the crows, so many crows calling, cawing, croaking, and clamoring as they pick the trash or search for puddles of water.  And water can come in great supply in the morning; the splash of cleaning the front stoops or steps.

As I leave the house to wander closer to the main roads, a bevy of sound in on the assault.  The low bellow of trucks with an occasional screaming one, too.  The obnoxious call of buses mixed with the insistently irritating car horns.  The sputtering putter of the three-wheelers and their rubber ball horns with low goose boops or little girl squeals. Motor bikes aggressively growling their way about the other vehicles while underneath, the light buzz of scooters (unless broken, then they can fairly scream). Competing unsuccessfully in this barrage are the tiny tingles of bicycle bells that make you wonder why they even try, except to exert power over unsuspecting pedestrians. While driving you occasionally pass a tightly packed temple blasting sacred music through its dented tin speakers, reminding the populace of its presence

Off the main road you can catch the crunch of charcoal loaded into an iron, the master at work along the street or the tap of a shoe-repairman’s hammer. And the tinkle of, well, tinkle.  You might also catch a blaring TV or two, playing a Tamil drama or soap opera.  The strained, almost falsetto voice of the badly wigged comic character.  The low rumble of the villain.  The strongly dramatic music, signifying a series of close-ups of an emotionally distraught family staring at each other in dismay, distress, disgust, disdain, delight or depression.

Oddly enough a quite rare sound, despite plenty wandering about, is that of dogs.

The most pleasant for me, so far, is while meandering about the marina.  The pop of carnival games, local music, the wash of the sea onto the shore, the wind, oh that luscious wind and mostly certainly the excited and relaxed voices of the myriad of people drawn to the coolness of an evening at the beach.

I arrive home to the slightly off-pitch squeak of my gated door.  A small tick and the slight hum of the ceiling fan finishes off the day.