Skip to main content

Untamed Decibels

Indian vehicles are so horny, they literally blow you away! The constant honking makes me go mad. Why is the horn blown meaninglessly even when the vehicle ahead is helplessly stranded in a jam? Rest assured, if only a solitary vehicle was allowed to honk, you could hear it from a mile away! There are no rules or regulations restricting the noise level of these horns; if there are, they're either just not implemented or way too liberal with the limitations.

The blaring is used rather indiscriminately and no one seems to mind, which shouldn't really be surprising since we are a stone deaf people-never bothering to listen to others. A mild horn would be tantamount to persuasion, preposterous by our rustic and nonchalant standards. So the easy and more efficacious method is used: just allow the sonic booms to blast away anything that lies ahead! Works like ultrasonic mosquito repellents, although we're gradually developing immunity!

Comments

saurabh said…
if i remember correctly, the title of this post was something else yesterday. why the change?
Deepanjan said…
No specific reason. This one sounds better.

Popular posts from this blog

This is what Bertrand Russell said about religion...

Religion is based, I think, primarily and mainly upon fear. It is partly the terror of the unknown and partly, as I have said, the wish to feel that you have a kind of elder brother who will stand by you in all your troubles and disputes. ... A good world needs knowledge, kindliness, and courage; it does not need a regretful hankering after the past or a fettering of the free intelligence by the words uttered long ago by ignorant men.

The year that was

I'm wearing a rather striking shirt, one that makes me feel like a clown fooling around in a graveyard. Roving eyes latch on to me and make me too conscious of myself. Checkered in red, grey, black and maroon, I've excused myself into donning it and looking silly for two reasons. It's Friday and…more importantly, the last working day of the year. Tailored half-a-year back, I never had the courage to wear it, not until today. It's that time of the year when it's time to reflect on the events that transpired. Last year ended on the worst possible note. Dad had expired and I was numb with shock. The repercussions rippled halfway thought this year. Things were so abysmal initially that I had lost the will to live. Acrid in everything I did, I was immensely angered by time phlegmatically flowing through its cadence. It was as if Dad meant nothing to anybody. What right did people have to live the way they always had when Dad was no more? Why was much of the world still