The whisper of two hands sweeping
A pre-dawn impatient auto beeping
Early morning bicycle horn
Its character croaked, old and worn
The tout calls, raspy and rhythmic
Some birds sing, and others mimic
Relentless, the screeching squirrel
Rattling the battling cats so feral

TING-TING, spatula on kadai
The sizzled speech of things that fry
Twenty talks held in ten tongues
The bounce of distant bongo drums
Puttering auto struggles for speed
The angry whine of steel wheeled steeds
Meanwhile Ladakh’s Martian soundscapes
The silent swish of saris draped

Snapping crackers and mortar booms
The thumping of neon nightclub tunes
Clacking high heels against sidewalk
Bantering bands of drunks cross-talk
Rolling shutters and clicking locks
The beep of setting cellphone clocks
Then nothing but the croak of frogs
And howls of nighttime alpha dogs