“This is not the first time I have heard this,” Swami complained. Jigneshbhai and I heard loud music from somewhere. It was well past midnight, and we were having a late-night coffee at Swami’s place.
“So this is normal?” Jigneshbhai enquired.
Swami sipped into his coffee with a worried face. It looked like he had faced the music earlier, so to speak.
“Well, not normal, but regular, more or less,” Swami said. “You could say it is normal every Friday and Saturday night. It’s a bunch of youngsters who, for some reason, can’t sleep unless they have loud music on,” Swami slyly said..
“Hmm.. And do they feel everyone in the apartment suffers from this odd malady?” Jigneshbhai probed, with a smile.
“Well, you are talking like my wife now,” Swami complained. “She keeps telling me to go and shout at them. Fire them, ask them to stop the loud commotion at this hour,” he said. “You know how easy that is for me, isn’t it?” he smiled.
“So you know where this loud music comes from?” Jigneshbhai asked.
“Know? It’s plain for everyone to see – they don’t hide it,” Swami shook his head in dismay. “You are lucky that tonight is not the karaoke night! Sometimes they come to the balcony and sing too!!” Swami laughed, resigned to his predicament.
“Of course that starts at the perfectly reasonable time of 1 AM or so, maybe after they are down a few drinks of whatever. Not of coffee, like us, I am sure!!” Swami moaned about the troublemakers and shrugged his shoulders.
“Wow, too much,” Jigneshbhai said. “Do they expect an audience from the apartment cheering them on at that time?” he asked.
“Hmm.. What can I say? I have given up on them. Who will take on a bunch of rowdies who don’t understand basic etiquette of community living?” Swami said.
“Has anyone tried?” Jigneshbhai asked.
“Well..,” Swami stretched his memory. “I think someone had tried a few months back. It stopped that night, but continued from the next week,” he told us. “Since then, people who complain stick to sending emails,” he broke into a guffaw. “Everyone except the troublemakers seems to read them.”
Jigneshbhai and I looked at each other. Every society has this bunch of rowdies and jokers who, by their behaviour, hold the entire crowd at ransom, so to speak, I felt. I remembered a fellow who used to have his son play some loud instrument every night after dinner. And another who started his morning pooja at 4 AM with a dong of a bell so loud that it would have woken up any sleeping giant. But I also remember how tough it was to reason out with such unreasonable acts and their actors.
“Let’s go for a walk,” Jigneshbhai declared and got up. “We will say hi to the folks out there,” he continued to my and Swami’s utter surprise.
“No way, why do you want to lose sleep over this?” Swami revolted.
“You are anyway losing sleep over this. At least we will go and see what happens,” Jigneshbhai insisted and pulled him along.
When he rang the doorbell of the troublemakers flat, the palpitation on Swami’s heart was louder than the bell. A man in his 20s opened the door. Right behind him, there were a few others in various stages of consciousness, dancing to the music.
“Hello, everyone,” Jigneshbhai said. “Can we join in the fun?”
The guys broke into a loud laugh.
“Is this some kind of a joke?” a whisky-soda asked.
“Uncles, this is only for those below 30,” another rum-and-coke said. “Are you unable to sleep, Sir? Shall I get you some hot milk?” a gold flake asked, jeering at Jigneshbhai.
Jigneshbhai looked around in silence and took note of the surroundings inside. He had a calm smile on his face.
“Which music system? Is it a Bose?” he asked.
The three guys were flabbergasted. And so were Swami and I. We didn’t know what our wise friend was up to.
“Uncle, whichever it is, it is not for you,” the guy who had opened the door said again. “Now, can we get back to work?” he asked and tried to close the door.
“Yeah, sure. Maybe you should. Have fun guys, while we try to get back to sleep,” Jigneshbhai said.
The door closed and we heard a raucous laugh inside. Swami twitched his lips in disappointment. “I told you there is no point in reasoning out with unreasonable rowdies,” he said.
“You are right,” Jigneshbhai remarked. “But I guess we can’t lose any more sleep over this,” he added.
We left Swami’s house soon after that.
It was only on the following Sunday that Swami told us over coffee at the café that the music had stopped abruptly on Friday night. And everyone in their apartment had a good night’s sleep on Saturday too.
“Maybe God gave them some sense of goodness, after you met them,” Swami said while sipping the coffee.
Jigneshbhai smiled slyly and remarked, “Hmm.. I wish goodness dawned on people so easily.”
Swami raised his eyebrows on hearing this.
“What did you do?” he asked.
“Nothing much,” Jigneshbhai said, which meant something was cooking. Just that Swami and I didn’t know. “I just called our influential friend for some help,” he added.
“Influential friend?” Swami enquired.
It was then that the wealthy old man walked across to our table.
“Ohh,” Swami said. “Thank you Sir.”
“Never mind. Sometimes old police contacts oblige,” he said.
“That’s how goodness dawned upon the rowdies?” Swami asked.
“Well.. God might have given them some wisdom. But some push from outside helps,” the wealthy old man replied.
He put a hand on Swami’s shoulders and left us pondering when he said, “When reason and goodness don’t work, it is not ok to take things lying down. It is time to stand up. It is time for a face off.”
***