There's a story that often comes to mind these days.
A lady staying in a posh hotel repeatedly called the reception to complain about the noise in the room beside hers. The sound of a violin playing intermittently was grating on her nerves. She could not rest, she found it difficult to read. Could the hotel please tell the person to stop playing?
Finally, after fielding her calls repeatedly, the manager knocked on her door. He told her he could shift her to another floor if she wished. The violinist was one of the country’s most renowned and he had a sold-out concert the following day; there was no way, he added, he could request the gentleman to stop playing.
The irate lady calmed down. Suddenly, she realised she was listening to music that others were paying high ticket rates to listen to. Not only did she decide to continue in the same room, but she phoned her friends to say she was in the same hotel, in a room next door to the famous violinist, and was listening to him play through the day!
The story comes to mind when one reads about the noise people make about their peace being disturbed only by the sounds made by religions other than their own; considering that both the aarti and the azaan that emanate from temples and mosques at prayer time can be of higher than required decibel levels.
Yet, it is a strange phenomenon. Instead of love, prayer spawns anger, irritation, and fear. Even worse, competition; as the temple bells clang louder to drown out the azaan, and vice versa. It’s man against man, with God nowhere in the picture.
It is another matter that the summons to prayer need not be noisy or something that needs to be broadcast across the ether, but given that it is a practice that has seeped into the social fabric, the best thing to do is to find the music in it; for every sound of worship comes laden with its cadences and rhythms.
And unless our ears have been tuned in to the litanies of hate that fly freely through cyberspace, it is easy to discern that every form of prayer, loud or soft, is a song of love, of seeking for the divinity that lies hidden deep within each of us.
As for the respective Gods, one wonders if noise can indeed be pleasing to One who has created the world in such harmony, with music in every sound Nature makes, from the hiss of waves receding from the shore, to the call of birds through the seasons, to the song of the humpback whales and the roar of the lion. Even the pitter-patter of rain or the whisper of leaves in the wind have their own music. And none of them assault the ear.
Why then did man imagine that the best way to please the divine and ensure prayers are heard and answered is through sound amplified many times over? A sincere whispered entreaty often works just as well. After all, are we not finally addressing the divinity within?
(The writer is an author & Consulting Editor, Penguin Random House and can be contacted at saran.sathya@gmail.com)