Weddings are a source of joy: Beautifully decked-up brides, guests, good food and charming music. But the last one has dramatically metamorphosed into a tortuous experience. The Pollution Control Board would be scandalized at the kind of noise the musicians dish out in small halls or demarcated areas, designed for smaller decibels of sound. The ear piercing sound systems cannibalize the laya, thaalam and sruthi of the music, making the output one big noisy torture with guests shutting out the sound with their palms to the ears. Sign language is a handy tool if you go for weddings today.
Ah...there is the favourite cousin whom you have not seen for ages.. Laughter, embrace and surprise over, you ask about his children, in sign language, as the blaring sounds drown your feeble voice even if your mouth is almost attached to his ears. A dumb charade follows and then both look into each others eyes, wring their hands and part ways, cursing the group of musicians who sincerely think they are entertaining the guests. Noise and music have a rather thick line separating them at these weddings.
That's when you want to know whether your sister has had the wedding feast. You do the motion of eating with your right hand and look at her, a big question mark writ all over your face. She shakes her head vigorously and we walk towards the queue. Smiling widely, all 32 in a helpless frenzy, we see second cousins and their children, all with the same smile plastered on their faces, hold hands, shake our heads and say bye with wave.
And then I muster up courage, egged on and abetted by my headache and like thinking cousins and confront the sound-in-charge plus the violinist, percussionists and the electronic nagaswaram player. Music is to be enjoyed, soft music, I sermonised. They shake their heads in unison. Wedding guests love to chat, but their voices are drowned in the blaring music, I added. They looked at me with deadpan faces. So, I turned to the sound-in-charge, can you please lower the volume, that we may all enjoy your music and talk too when we meet our relatives, I asked, almost pleading. He smiled the sweetest of smiles and nodded. Triumphant, I walked slowly away, relieved at the welcome silence. Ten steps away and as the proverb goes, Shankar was back on the coconut tree!
The cousin who told me he went up to them thrice and pleaded that the volume be lowered, now looked at me with an I-told-you-so-look! Vanquished, I enjoyed my lunch, which was served far enough to drown the 'music'!! Not for me another wedding. Why take the trouble to travel all the way only to have noise thrust down your very system? When, O when will noise pollution be banished from weddings? And I wonder, does anyone enjoy the music when it's dished out thus?
Ah...there is the favourite cousin whom you have not seen for ages.. Laughter, embrace and surprise over, you ask about his children, in sign language, as the blaring sounds drown your feeble voice even if your mouth is almost attached to his ears. A dumb charade follows and then both look into each others eyes, wring their hands and part ways, cursing the group of musicians who sincerely think they are entertaining the guests. Noise and music have a rather thick line separating them at these weddings.
That's when you want to know whether your sister has had the wedding feast. You do the motion of eating with your right hand and look at her, a big question mark writ all over your face. She shakes her head vigorously and we walk towards the queue. Smiling widely, all 32 in a helpless frenzy, we see second cousins and their children, all with the same smile plastered on their faces, hold hands, shake our heads and say bye with wave.
And then I muster up courage, egged on and abetted by my headache and like thinking cousins and confront the sound-in-charge plus the violinist, percussionists and the electronic nagaswaram player. Music is to be enjoyed, soft music, I sermonised. They shake their heads in unison. Wedding guests love to chat, but their voices are drowned in the blaring music, I added. They looked at me with deadpan faces. So, I turned to the sound-in-charge, can you please lower the volume, that we may all enjoy your music and talk too when we meet our relatives, I asked, almost pleading. He smiled the sweetest of smiles and nodded. Triumphant, I walked slowly away, relieved at the welcome silence. Ten steps away and as the proverb goes, Shankar was back on the coconut tree!
The cousin who told me he went up to them thrice and pleaded that the volume be lowered, now looked at me with an I-told-you-so-look! Vanquished, I enjoyed my lunch, which was served far enough to drown the 'music'!! Not for me another wedding. Why take the trouble to travel all the way only to have noise thrust down your very system? When, O when will noise pollution be banished from weddings? And I wonder, does anyone enjoy the music when it's dished out thus?
