Last day I met my future partner at a fast food joint. We were short on time, so we ended up sitting in the first table we could find. There was commotion already when we arrived, not entered, because it is an open area without any walls or an entrance or exit. The joint is one of the many with shared tables. We ordered a pav bhaji and started talking. There was so much noise around us, from people talking loudly, the cook at the pav bhaji counter slamming his masher loudly and periodically on the oversized tawa I suspect because our order had made him get back to work, and the general buzz of rush hour traffic outside (unabashed honking, mostly) that we couldn’t help but contribute to it. Our order arrived and we snacked, with all that noise continuing to assault our ears. Or, rather it looked, just mine.
Weeks before that, I met my future in-laws at a better setup. It is one of Dadar’s best restaurants, or so my partner claimed, which I had to trust because she had lived in that area since birth. I was already nursing a minor headache and was hoping to sip on some tea to feel better. The menu suggested only a masala chai with a price tag that hinted to me why someone might call the restaurant one of the best as is the norm these days. If you’re wondering, I had written about another best restaurant in Dadar last year. Before the older folks arrived, a slight, typical restaurant clatter had begun to raid our eardrums. My bad, my eardrums. Especially because no one, including those I was going to dine with, seemed to have a problem with loud talkers, non-existent soundproofing considering the restaurant is located next to a busy intersection, or the patrons’ inability to even talk to the waiters and theirs to respond back. While I was taking extra effort to listen to everything that was being said, I don’t think the other three people had to. Almost like the noise wasn’t a problem or they were impervious to it. The Mumbai spirit, if you will. To avoid what I had observed two months back at a Navi Mumbai restaurant, I suggested we order the starters before her parents arrive so that we’ll succeed at least doing that before the clatter turns into a proper, generally accepted din. The folks arrived and all four us chit-chatted about our future plans while eating, surrounded by noise-making objects that seemed to turn up the volume as the hours passed. We didn’t wait for the crescendo.
At that Navi Mumbai restaurant in Mahape, it felt like they were serving high-octane noise. Just pure, unfiltered noise, aggravated to the best of the acoustic machines’ effort to transport soundwaves into the patrons’ soul. I was there with my family to celebrate my sister’s birthday and for the first few minutes I thought I was in a suicide lounge where people come to get their ears permanently damaged. The restaurant was the loudest place I have ever been to. We had to almost kiss the waiters’ ears to order the food and I’m moderately sure the waiters there often take sick leaves to treat their ear infection both from the loud thumping and the saliva that patrons shoot at their ears while trying to make sense of the menu. It is only after my sister cleverly pulled out her phone, typed the order, and showed it to the waiter that we were able to, as a family, admit that the plan was a failure. None of us bothered talking to each other because the musician, not a DJ, while trying to earn a living was putting our lives at risk. Or at least, our eardrums. My eardrums. I should have tested the dB level as a proof should I ever be diagnosed with hearing impairment. Unlike the other two instances I shared above, this one had a constant din, so we didn’t have to wait for the crescendo. My ears were numb already.
This points to two things: either I am experiencing hearing loss or there is just too much noise everywhere, including at most eating places in Mumbai. I just home-tested my hearing and it looks there is only one point to this article. Maybe it’s time to move out.