The Sounds I Sleep To

While living in Manhattan for the past two years, the only sounds that I heard were of ambulances, fire trucks, and sometimes honks. Honks from cars trying to just pass by as quickly as possible. I lived in a building with more than 350 apartments. But each time I went in an elevator, every face seemed new. I knew only two families. Or I should say one family and one old gentleman who lived at the other end of the hallway. I would see him every morning at 5 am ( if I am able to wake up) walking the hallway backward. To me, it seemed he was exercising.

Soon I moved from this side of the river to the other side of the river. Hudson River separates New York from New Jersey. This side is Manhattan. And that side, that side is New Jersey. Only fifteen minutes of the walk across the George Washington Bridge can bring you to a different world altogether. Now with ambulance and fire trucks, I was also able to hear kids playing joyfully, birds singing in the distance, someone talking on the phone somewhere, and my neighbor playing the violin.

The first time I hear the violin, I was amazed. My neighbor played beautiful music. Though I didn’t know anything about the neighbor, I enjoyed the music. One day, we met in the hallway and I told him he played really well. I came to know that he is studying music in Manhattan.

Gradually, his practice time seemed to increase. What was initially an hour or two of music, now seemed to be going on all day long. I figured that he practices at least 10–12 hours each day. The music which was melodious and joyful in the beginning suddenly felt like the sound of the clock ticking at night. Do you know the kind of sound that is not loud but you still can’t ignore it? And the more you ignore it, the more visible it becomes.

I try to go to bed with the violin playing in the back. I try hard to ignore it and even feel the urge to bang the wall and scream “ Please play tomorrow”, but I don’t. I know the neighbor. Even if I don’t know his name, I did have a small talk with him once. Unlike the old gentleman, with whom I only exchanged a few silent nods that acknowledged each other’s existence. I hear fire trucks rushing to somewhere late at night. I know, I will soon hear an ambulance as well. I wait for the ambulance to pass by and I slowly drift into sleep listening to the ambulance, fire trucks, and violin.

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