Viswanathan Vaidyanathan
Caliban, an enigmatic character in William Shakespeare's play The Tempest, muses about his native island thus: "The isle is full of noises, sounds and sweet airs, that give delight, and hurt not." Alas, the noises that surround us in daily life are far from sweet airs.
Modern street vendors have taken to technology like fish to water, outfitting their vehicles with loudspeakers that broadcast pre-recorded messages at ear-shattering decibels. Curious about the process behind these recordings, I encountered a vendor selling vegetables from a mobile truck. When I inquired about the prices, he didn't respond directly. Instead, he gestured for me to wait, stepped aside, and used a mobile app to record the updated vegetable prices in his coarse voice. Within minutes, the recording was live on the speaker attached to his truck.
While it's encouraging to see street vendors embracing technology to simplify their business, the noise generated by these loudspeakers is certainly less endearing. The arrival of a knife sharpener in our locality in Chennai is heralded by a war cry so intense that residents get an adrenalin rush to run towards him and surrender all their kitchen knives at his feet for sharpening.
Add to this, the medley of garbage collection vehicles with their signature jingles. A long procession of speaker-fitted street vendors march past our area from early morning till evening, featuring a diverse array of sellers: fruit, vegetables, flowers, potted plants, and waste paper vendors; sellers of sleeping mats, idiyappam (a steamed rice dish) and kolam flour; repair services for everything from sofas to gadgets; and traders offering money for old laptops, used gadgets, and silk sarees. This ever-growing list seems to mock the likes of Amazon, Flipkart, and other e-commerce giants. While some traditional vendors still shout their wares the old-fashioned way, their numbers are dwindling.
Public transport comes with its own set of auditory challenges. Some co-passengers treat their phone conversations as theatrical performances, projecting their voices at volumes suited for a stadium. From loud bargaining over purchases to executives chastising contractors and bosses reprimanding employees, a whole spectrum of workplace drama unfolds on the move. Others unleash WhatsApp or YouTube videos without headphones, creating a chaotic blend of soundscapes—political rants on one side, spiritual sermons on the other, leaving the rest of us stuck in a surreal blend of spiritual politics or political spirituality.
Stepping out of a metro station in Chennai, I once mistook the sudden barrage of explosions for a transformer burst or, worse, enemy carpet bombing. To my relief (or dismay), it was a funeral procession where crackers were being burst in close proximity to passing vehicles. While regulations limit fireworks during festivals, such rules seem absent for other occasions. The result? Deafening and hazardous fireworks that jeopardize both public safety and peace of mind.
In our evolving hybrid work culture, where online classes, seminars and remote work are the norm, such disturbances can be more than just inconvenient—they can be debilitating. Perhaps it's time for policymakers, law enforcers and stakeholders to do some 'loud thinking' about keeping public spaces and residential areas calm. Ironically, even a jarring debate on television about reducing noise pollution could spark meaningful steps in this direction. So, let’s make some noise about noise reduction.