Courtesy : THE MADRAS MUSINGS
Vol. XXI No. 7, July 16-31, 2011
| Chennoise – that's who we are |
| (By Prabha Sridevan) |
• Living in Chennai is equivalent to living in a factory – at least in terms of how much noise all the residents are subjected to. Data from the Central Pollution Control Board (CPCB) shows that the noise levels everywhere in Chennai are over 100 dB – more than a typical factory. The average noise level in Chennai is actually higher at more than 129 decibels. It must be noted that pain in the ear begins at 125 decibels. The permissible limit is 85 dB fixed by the World Health Organisation (WHO).
The above is an extract from a newspaper. Maybe we can call ourselves Chennoise? We shout, we scream, we are loud.
We believe in loudness for all seasons. We have devotion and faith blaring from those cone things in every street and you worry whether closing your ears is a sacrilege. In fact, there have been cases in the Madras High Court where petitioners have complained of this noise assault. But Chennai does not care.
We have huge commercial establishments in residential streets, schools in cul-de-sacs, kalyana mandapams in what used to be quiet streets. The offices have noisy generators and neighbours are asked to “adjist” when they complain of the noise. Wedding receptions, of course, must have what is called light music concerts. How is it “light”, pray? Weddings are social occasions too, when we meet friends and relatives, renew bonds. It is just not about the ‘girl’ and the ‘boy’ coming together. But with these huge speakers drowning out normal sounds, we are zonked into silence. This is about dear ones coming together. The story is the same when dear ones depart. From the womb to the tomb, it is a life of audio attack.
But what do you expect? Schools shout. Children warble away into microphones in quiet avenues. People use drilling equipment all the 24 hours repairing their flats with no thought for the elders, the sick, the infants in the neighbouring places. Yes, it is your house and you have the right to set it right. But it is their living space too, they have the right to some peace and quiet. Why can’t we inform our neighbours that we will drill or hammer from, let’s say, 9 a.m. to 3 p.m? We don’t care about anyone else when we raise the noise decibel. So, kids learn that it is all right to be loud and insensitive. And as grown-ups they continue to be loud and forget the virtues of silence.
There are silences and silences. To name some, there is the silence of spirituality, the silence of a learner, the silence of loyalty, the silence of ignorance, the silence of weakness, the silence of cowardice, the silence of reverence, the silence of companionship and even the forced silence. Some are positive silences, some are not. For instance, the silence of omerta imposed by the Mafiosi is not silence but muteness born of fear. When Peter denied Christ thrice before the cock crew, that was not the right silence. The elders failed to speak and were silent, when the Pandava queen was disrobed; that was a silence of adharma.
Being quiet is a kindness to others and to us. It is an act of respect. It is an act of ahimsa. Actually it is the incessant noise that translates into violence in our lives. As a city we must stop being noisy. Is Chennai afraid of silence? We fill our space with noise, or at least with texting, shuffling or ipoding, which are all noise too of a different kind.
As I said, our marriages are noisy, our last processions are noisy, our religious celebrations are noisy, we are buffeted by noises and have got so used to it that we have become strangers to that silence which is the stillness of being.
I see walkers wiring their ears with some music. Actually there are birds even now in Chennai. Please listen to those minstrels. That music may soon die into eternity. But no, we proudly walk with wired ears not wanting to listen to the ‘cheep cheep’. Is it so difficult to be with myself in silence, that even when I walk I need aural company? Zen master Thich Nhat Hanh recommends walking meditation where the very simple act of walking is transcended into a deeply healing tool which tells us how to be in the here and now.
The Dakshinamurthi icon creates for us a teacher and students learning in silence. There is a verse which is a beautiful study in contrast and it is also about silence. It asks us to picture at the base of the vata tree the aged disciples and the young teacher! The teacher explains wordlessly and the doubts of the students are shattered. The scene is so tranquil and so peaceful. He is not burdened by the thought of having to teach the hardest lesson, the Lesson of Knowledge. The space under the shade of the tree is one of silent communication and silent communion. Knowledge is transmitted easily and in silence because the students are ready to receive it. Their minds are silent too, not clamouring with conflicting thoughts. The space is free of noise; both noise inside and noise outside.
But what about today’s teacher? We will look at the ordinary teacher who is buffeted by myriad problems, who is there only for the paycheck and not for love of teaching or for love of children. There is neither peace nor tranquillity in her mind nor in her life. Her students do not know what silence is, for they come from noisy homes and are sent to noisy schools. She scrawls her name in the staff register, and rushes into the classroom, unprepared for that day’s lesson. The first words she says are, “Children! Silence please!” The children may stop shouting, but that is not the learning silence. We must teach children the richness of silence. We must teach them the virtue of being quiet. We must teach them not to be restless in silence.
Every religious tradition has the vow of silence or practice of silence as an integral part of it. The technique of Vipassana is about learning to be silent. The Cistercian Order or Trappist Order is very strict about silence. Obviously, then, silence is a sine qua non for spiritual evolution. The largest Muslim country in the world, Indonesia, declares a national holiday each year to mark the Hindu-majority Bali’s day of silence, Hari Raya Nyepi Tahun Baru. This profound concept has been absorbed into the beautiful Muslim-Hindu culture of that unique nation. It seems that on that day the streets are empty, no TV, no radio, no entertainment, nothing. It is a day devoted to introspection. Though it is a Hindu festival, everyone, even non-Hindus, willingly adopts silence that day. Imagine the whole of India turning inwards and silent for a day! Do you think we can start with Chennai? Nope. I have as much hope as an icicle has of survival in hell.
There is a book called, The Sacred Tree, compiled by The Four World Development Project from contributions by the Native elders, spiritual leaders and professionals of various Native communities in North America. It is a stunning evidence of the wisdom of the original people of North America. How much have we lost by not listening to such people? In this book, we read, “A sign that much work is needed in the area of personal spiritual growth is when a person dislikes being alone, and especially dislikes being alone in silence. Many people use television or recorded music to fill the silence so that they do not have to experience themselves as they really are. To face ourselves in silence, and to love ourselves because the Creator has made us beautiful are things that every developing human being needs to learn.” Wow! All of us, not just the Chennoise are stunted in spiritual growth, tested against this standard. Sigh!
