PMSing on a Tain in India

‘Chai Chai Chai ChaiiiIIII’, ‘Chai Chai Chai ChaiiiIIII’, ‘Chai Chai Chai ChaiiiIIII’ 

I am awaken by a voice so loud and clear that I bolt upright in my seat with my eyes still shut asleep. The voice moves down the aisle bouncing off the narrow train compartment only to be followed by another and another and then another loud advertisement of something unfamiliar. I shut my eyes tighter and want to scream at everyone to keep it down.

A new sales pitch comes closer and closer accompanied by loud hand clapping and at times the voice climbs super high as if to amuse itself. Same message, just different intonation and then flat again. I drift back to sleep lulled by the mambo-jumbo of noises: a dude speaking on a phone, kid singing ‘Malu Jalu Malu Jalu’, the rhythmical squeaky toy being tortured to death in the next compartment, the grunts of men discussing something heatedly, the horns of trains coming and going, the shuffle of feet, and then the loud hand clapping again, ripping the sleep out of me.

Ahhhrrrr! I am starting to loose it. It is 7 am and I am rolling in my cot in search of quiet. The squeaky sounds come near and I am so annoyed that I decide to investigate. I sit up and barely manage to open one eye. Here they come, too methodical to be made by a child at play. I see a blur of a woman walking down the aisle. She is carrying a bunch of sound making toys bouncing on strings, demonstrating their amazing ability to annoy the crap out of anyone around. She is also clutching a rainbow of combs. Behind her comes the melodic yell of a man dragging a red cooler in one hand and 3 frozen popsicles that are starting to melt down his hand. He is followed by the dude selling the chai and his loud yells.

I sigh and hit the sack again faintly registering that the same sell pitches come and go at regular intervals. The sellers are cruising the train relentlessly until passengers give in and all is sold. T-shirt sellers; magicians; beggars; drummers; singers; ice cream, chick peas and chips man, the train has it all! The only thing missing is peace and quiet.

If Japan is as silent as a tomb India is like a disco stereo on full blast. There is no place to hide, there is no chill and certainly no silence.

Its streets are pierced with honks, cow mooing and dogs barking. Pedestrians constantly try to engage you in chat ‘ Hey, my best friend!’, ‘Where are you FROM?’ Buses bustle with heated discussions, looks that speak volumes and rusty cabins making noise that only an old machine driven too fast can make. Restaurants are colored by loud talks and utensil smacking aluminum plates. Rickshaws are blasting Bollywood music on high and the drivers are facing you in an attempt to talk while speeding noisy streets. Worship in Hindi temples is not by silent contemplation but by loud bell ringing, drumming and communal chanting. In the houses we have visited one can barely understand speech as giant electric coolers work on full blast or TVs radiate loud speech and catchy tunes. Besides the wilderness of Ladakh, the only quiet we have found so far is in the expensive air conditioned spots where the masses are not allowed, but who wants to dine alone surrounded by empty chairs, tables, dusty windows and observed by 30 idle servers? 

I wonder if I will ever be the same after India. Would I feel freaked out by the quiet of the West where everyone minds his own business and 10 pm is when all sounds must dissipate for the good of all. Would I miss all the noises, squeaks, yells and cries? Even the beeps and the honks on the streets? I have been submerged in a sound jungle so intense that quiet has become a foreign and unattainable concept…

Back to the train. At 7 am I am dying to catch up on for some sleep as I have had only 5 hrs that night, but maybe I need to give up, fold my cot and engage in conversation the three turbaned men sitting on the lower seat. They have their eyes on me and I know it is just a matter of time till one of them asks me: “From?”

It is a brand new day in India!

~M.