5AM. Fighting pigeons, probably trying to impress a female, make a tremendous racket right under the window and wake me up. I bang on the window and chase them off.
6:30AM After I’d struggled back to sleep, I awake to what sounds like weird construction noises, possibly an ancient, incredibly loud cement mixer. It sounds almost like drumming. It IS drumming. And a teacher yelling. It is a sea of boys, horribly out of rhythm, making as bad a racket as the pigeons. Worse. Definitely boys, although they remain invisible, somewhere behind the building across the way.
7AM. Sounding exactly like the shofar at High Holidays, a conch shell screams its blast into the morning air, signaling the start of some Hindu prayer, unknown to me, the outsider. Then ringing bells, also part of the ritual.
7:15AM. Car horns.
7:20AM A car alarm (here?)
7:30AM. The coconut man, on his heavily-laden bicycle, sings out his wares.
Then the sounds of an excited crowd of young girls, accompanied by their parents, waiting to enter the school across the way. On most mornings, it is soon followed by the sweet and beautiful sound of singing.
Why sleep when there’s so much to hear?