Sunday sounds

Sunday sounds

I barely sleep at 2 am on Saturday night. I am kept awake by a book I can’t put down, by the moonlight filtering from the open window, and by the gentle sway of tall coconut trees brushing against my bedroom ledge.
I wake up at 5.30 am by soul-soothing chimes streaming in from next door St. Andrew's church. As if on cue, dhobi-ghat adjacent to our compound comes alive with thup-thup-thup of dhobis starting a hard day's work.
The sound, sight, and smell of Sunday in the suburb of Bandra are unique, quaint, and restful. Besides, my senses are sharper on Sundays, having abandoned all routines and all hopes of being productive and efficient.
I hear a flute seller playing a popular filmi tune, hoping to wake up a sleepy resident in a more cheerful mood and perhaps buy a flute from him.
Loud horn, the one with a rubber bulb sounds by 7 am heralding Idli-Vada seller. His customers are waiting hungrily for him, auto-rickshaw drivers, vegetable vendors, tea stall owners, and sometimes yours truly on my way to walk.
Bandra streets remain calm on Sunday morning devoid of school buses, anxious parents flocking the street corner to push blurry eyes wards into the buses.
The laughter club in one corner of the park generates the loudest noise that seems ungainly for that hour.
Our building remains in silent mode throughout the morning, except for the hissing sound of elevators. There is a French consulate chap who plays a bit of Jazz mid-morning but that is more uplifting than disturbing.
Afternoon sounds are rare around us on Sunday. Silent hours are 2-4 pm when no noise carrying work may be done. Bandra is a highly civilized place.
Around 5 pm, children of our building and the neighboring ones stir into life and I hear peels of innocent laughter.
As Sunday revelers fill-up the Carter road promenade, I hear sounds of horns and the loud cheer of youngsters jostling for attention.
There is a Portuguese descent family who likes to dance with loud music for an hour and we let them be. They spill out on the street with beer bottles in hand and we still let them be. Bandra is also tolerant.
By 9 pm, the building, the street below, and everything else falls silent. It is now my turn to play my trusty old Bose radio at a volume higher than the civilized level.
I have a long way to go till 2 am and I refuse to abide by the rules.


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