Dementia

It was 8:00 am and she crooned along with the radio, while passing through this grid-like metropolis. The road thus far had been a joy, now it was getting unnerving. Vehicles assaulted the tarmac with fumes, honking, irritation. The tepid sun was gathering its heat, shining brilliantly after every passing minute. This typical weekday saw its commuters leave ‘heaven’ for ‘hell’. Concepts of time and space made immense sense to her right now as she waited patiently amidst a flurry of vehicle horns. Pedestrians mingled with vehicles that mingled with cyclists. She heaved a sigh and thought of humanity to be a growing mould of fungus as a silent retort to the incessant honking outside.

Within the comfort of her air conditioned car, it wasn’t the heat that angered her. The horns, they were driving her crazy. If she really paid attention she could single out 10 different horns in one moment. As she massaged her temples with petite fingers, she wondered what all the fuss was about. Honking wouldn’t get these people to their destination any sooner. It wouldn’t cause a miracle, making the traffic vanish. It wouldn’t help their cars fly. It would just bother her. She detested horns. Too much noise, unnecessary noise, continuous noise.

The traffic had been snaking along, inching along. She’d wait till the car ahead would move at least five paces, but realised it would invite more horns from behind. Nothing made sense. With her eyes closed, her sense of sound would heighten. The sound waves from the horns would create psychedelic visions on a canvas of black, like an acid trip gone paranoid. So she snapped her eyes open. The three wheeler beside had to bear the monstrosity of an obnoxious man driving it. At that moment, inanimate objects seemed to have more life and compassion to them. The obnoxious man would spit out blood every now and then. It really was a paranoid acid trip. To add to the insanity, his hand was stuck to the blue rubber air horn. She wished to yank it away from him and blow it continuously in his ear. Childish she thought but possibly effective. Her silent monologue chanted - stop it, stop it, stop it, stop the bloody honking people.

She turned up the volume on her radio, solely to drown out the sounds of the exterior. But she wasn’t in the mood for extravagance; something mellow would do the trick. The mood colours the world accordingly, it colours life. Then came the unexpected. An advertisement on the radio with horns stung in a symphony. Incredulous, she thought. Why was this happening? Was it karma? Was it punishment for wanting something else, for desire of simplicity? Was it a conspiracy? The horns all merged and became louder and louder and louder. She aggressively switched off the radio. How could horns, HORNS – she thought, be a symphony? It was cacophony. Pure cacophony. Advertising sold so blatantly, she thought. Selling to anybody and everybody, those who didn’t even ask for it. Intrusion of space and time, intrusions. She tried to get her mind off reality and the vehicle instruments, lest it blew her mind.

But it wouldn’t go. The horns morphed into anger, despair, hate, hunger – everything negative flew in front of her eyes. Nothing made sense. Why wouldn’t they stop? It got louder, more frequent, piercing. Humans at every angle were pulsating with anger as they violently hit their palms against the horns. Their actions became more deliberate, lasting longer, making the sound louder. It was all in slow motion eventually. The sounds pierced her like arrows to her ears, to her brain. Her sweat felt like blood dripping from her ears. Her hands went numb. The sound was deafening, like after a nuclear bomb unleashed its fury. A mushroom cloud formed around her.

And then she couldn’t take it any more. She succumbed. She slumped over the steering wheel. And everything was silent. Everything was serene. It was peaceful. It was what she had wanted her entire life. At last, she was at peace.