ARTICLE AD BOX

Summary
We need to make a distinction between religious procession and aggression. Festivals were created by our forefathers to rejuvenate our body and soul, and not to destroy them.
On the first day of the Vikram Samvat 2083 (the Hindu new year), I got up a little early. In the red-hued sunrise, I suddenly remembered Sanskrit poet Kalidas, long lost in the memory vaults. In his literary masterpiece ‘Ritusamhara’, he beautifully narrates the spring season:
Drumah sapushpaah salilam sapadyam, streeyah sakama pavanah sugandhih |
Sukhaah pradosha divsashch ramyaah, sarvam priye charutaram vasante ||
The meaning of the verse is as follows: Oh beloved! everything has turned so beautiful during spring time. Trees are laden with flowers, ponds are full of lotus, air is scented, evenings pleasant and days are delightful.
I entered my housing society park with a lot of enthusiasm to meditate, but failed. Why? Incredible decibel assault was on from the Noida-Greater Noida Expressway in the vicinity. The devotees were moving with the ‘flame’ of the goddess expressing their religious fervour through thousands of watts of boom boxes.
I am a practising Hindu. My grandfather used to be a dandi swami (ascetic of Advait Vedant tradition). My father was a poet and discourses on religion and literature shaped my early childhood. I thought of confronting these ‘decibel devotees’, do you have any idea what the ‘flame’ represents?
Our ancestors started the tradition of carrying a lamp to the temple to let knowledge reach all and sundry and not be confined to a fortunate few. Invocations like Tamaso Ma Jyotirgamaya (god take me from darkness to light) were a result of this practice. But these youngsters are doing exactly the opposite. I never thought the first day of the Hindu new year would start on such a note.
I thought even if the youngsters were blaring Durga Saptashati or other hymns of Maa Durga people could have tolerated the noise. But they were singing praise of goddesses based on cheap film songs. These people forget noise is damaging their ear drums and their long-term cognition.
According to the World Health Organisation (WHO) and reports from various environmental organizations, exposure to sound above 85 decibels can permanently damage hearing, raise blood pressure, and impair concentration. These youngsters listen to it for hours. Many have been doing this for years. I shudder to imagine the consequences.
These people have no clue as to what havoc they are creating for their surroundings. In Delhi-NCR, noise pollution has already reached critical level. The Central Pollution Control Board and Delhi Pollution Control Committee data paint a grim picture. In most parts of Delhi the average noise remains between 60-75 decibels while during night they hover at around 55-65 decibels. It is 25 decibels higher than safe limits prescribed by WHO. Congested areas like Kashmiri Gate, ITO, Anand Vihar and Karol Bagh regularly experience noise levels in excess of 85 decibels. It’s no surprise that people in the Capital are increasingly suffering from insomnia, unease and hypertension. Half of the population in the region suffers from one of these ailments. Are we inadvertently creating an ailing society?
Raising questions is a valid cause. During Navratri and other religious functions, noise pollution registers a 15-30% increase. You may be wondering if there are any regulations to check the menace? According to Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita (BNS) Sections 270, 292 and 293, high-decibel noise is considered an attempt to create unrest. The boom boxes can be confiscated and those playing it can be jailed. It can also attract a fine of ₹1 lakh.
Throughout the country police avoid taking action in matters of ‘religious nature’. Did previous generations avoid high-decibel noise? Not at all. They used drums, barrel drums, cymbals and conches. Many Sanskrit words are based on the science of sound. Our sacred ‘Om’ fills our body, mind and environment with positive energy. However, I have already highlighted the effects of loud, sound-producing equipment on us.
It’s not that only the Hindus suffer from this malady, others aren’t far behind. Some years ago, I was in Pahalgam during the time of Barawafat. Throughout the night religious songs and sermons kept playing from the masjid loudspeakers at very high pitch. It gave us sleepless nights. It felt as if even the perennial flow of the Lidder river was subdued by the assault of noise.
We need to make a distinction between religious procession and aggression. Festivals were created by our forefathers to rejuvenate our body and soul, and not to destroy them.
Shashi Shekhar is editor-in-chief, Hindustan. Views are personal.

6 days ago
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