Noise and the city

Wake up in the morning to the milkman's doorbell, start your day with children squealing in their school buses. Lunch heralds busy street corners, bustling with 'fast food' vendors. Ice cream vendors are out n' about at 3, just as school's over; a sure reminder to get some tea.

Late evening and twilight bring on peak hour traffic: autos that drill like mosquitoes, an array of octaves represent the car horns. The public buses make weird noises, almost like grunting and heaving under the weight of it's people.

Towards late night, cars that pump music and glitzy, fancy lights take over the street. Young people tumble outta these, flitting through clubs to jump and scream. It's the wild side of the night's dream.

Two streets away rag pickers lay out their sheets. It's been a long, hard day on the beat. Food is scarce; items to salvage, even more so. Money's been split, after much heave-ho with the signal chief; leaving just enough for some 'charitable' person's palayadu.

It's now midnight, the dust settles. Trucks thunder by, striking dead startled birds and star-crossed mice. Sand is parted with, many times even sleep, as these monsters wind their way through, kicking up dust like children with water in a puddle.

The spell has broken: the sun lights the city. Prayers resound in the pure morning air. You hear the sigh as the city wakes up, getting back on it's feet, slowly whirring up to full blast.