I was sitting outside my room, chatting with a friend pretty late last night.
I couldn't help noticing the variety of sounds that are created and heard even more clearly in the relative silence of the night. The street dogs barking away to glory, involved in one of their customary late-night brawls. The creaking shutters of the workshop right beside our house.
The workshop seems to have developed its own habit of adding a number of decibels to the existing noise levels, whether its the constant hammering and welding throughout the day or the wierd,eerie creaking of its half closed shutters at night. There was the occasional heavy rumbling of a truck as it thundered along Bannerghatta Road, generously blowing its horns. Now this is another unexplained behaviour, where's the pointing blowing your horns so loud when your vehicle is probably the only one on the road?
It was kinda windy too, the sound of the coconut leaves brushing against each other in the no-so-gentle breeze complemented the creaking of the workshop to give the beautiful haunted house effect. And I kept sitting there for quite sometime, just soaking in the sounds disturbing the otherwise silent, idle night, allowing the breeze to hit my face, in some invisible attempt to exact an utterly humiliating revenge for some unknown offence against someone, someday.
It was two thirty by the time the dogs decided to give up their fight and settle down in their stipulated corners, the trucks became less frequent, the breeze died down. I sat there staring at the red sky. I walked back into my room only at three after a silent goodnight to the creaking shutter. The night was sane, sober and subdued again, just the creaking persisted.
I couldn't help noticing the variety of sounds that are created and heard even more clearly in the relative silence of the night. The street dogs barking away to glory, involved in one of their customary late-night brawls. The creaking shutters of the workshop right beside our house.
The workshop seems to have developed its own habit of adding a number of decibels to the existing noise levels, whether its the constant hammering and welding throughout the day or the wierd,eerie creaking of its half closed shutters at night. There was the occasional heavy rumbling of a truck as it thundered along Bannerghatta Road, generously blowing its horns. Now this is another unexplained behaviour, where's the pointing blowing your horns so loud when your vehicle is probably the only one on the road?
It was kinda windy too, the sound of the coconut leaves brushing against each other in the no-so-gentle breeze complemented the creaking of the workshop to give the beautiful haunted house effect. And I kept sitting there for quite sometime, just soaking in the sounds disturbing the otherwise silent, idle night, allowing the breeze to hit my face, in some invisible attempt to exact an utterly humiliating revenge for some unknown offence against someone, someday.
It was two thirty by the time the dogs decided to give up their fight and settle down in their stipulated corners, the trucks became less frequent, the breeze died down. I sat there staring at the red sky. I walked back into my room only at three after a silent goodnight to the creaking shutter. The night was sane, sober and subdued again, just the creaking persisted.
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