City Sounds

I’m writing about Amsterdam, remembering Paris and worrying about Chennai while moving into an apartment in Chicago. It’s been a little confusing. So I closed my eyes, and was almost deafened by a cacophony of sounds. Cities are noisy. I noticed that only when I returned from Amsterdam to United States suburbia.

So, consider this a writing exercise. It’s all my tired brain can manage after two solid days of hauling boxes and assembling furniture.

Chennai: the paper-walla’s mid-afternoon shout of “Pay-paaaar! Pay-paar!” The thwack of tennis ball hitting the bat’s sweet spot and then disappearing, unfortunately, into the neighbour’s compound. My mom’s maami’s tinkling laugh. “Overaa pannadhey” and other phrases I only heard at BVM. The German Shepherd next door barking furiously. Ravi Shastri, Harsha Bhogle, Geoffrey Boycott, Michael Holding, Pommy Mbangwa and (unfortunately) Navjot Singh Sidhu’s cricket commentary. Hundred and thousand-wallas on Diwali night.

Amsterdam: Sirens at two in the morning. The bells of Sint Nicolaaskerk chiming the hour. “Joe hoe!”s at an unthinking pedestrian in the middle of the road. “Alstublieft” and “dank je wel.” Accents of all kinds–British, French, German, Dutch–molding into one mass of sound. The Dutch accents of our professors. The hiss of bike wheels.

Paris: Projection and spit-flying enunciation. Unexpected Tamil. A head-spinning amount of a language I thought I knew. More accents. Many more accents. And dialects. Language variety. Shouting, as a manif marched down the street.

Chicago: The L thundering by. The thuds of the people upstairs walking around. Creaking floorboards every time I move a muscle. Voices outside the window.