Honking styles can reveal a lot about the people behind the button. It is of course, a continuous earache, especially when you live beside the busiest street in the town. Living in a city of 2.8 million people, with all its honey-beeish people, one can easily recognize these particular patterns.
Every day, just as the clock strikes eight, a cacophony of horns emerges across my front window. It lasts a good amount of fourteen hours since then.
It starts with the late school boy, with his trailing horn, warning the others that his brash recklessness can them in the hospital. How much do you need me to display me irresponsibility? I’m already freakishly late, he says.
Then there comes Mister Busy. He is the guy who drives the slowest, showing his just-washed sedan to all, and honks an unbelievable tune. He would stop behind people on the traffic light, and try to blow their eardrums off. His intention: he wants to stand right in front of you crossing over the white line that says STOP.
Miss Perky travels very fast, zipping across the streets with abandon, literally. Reason: she knows only two speeds, 0 km/h and 60 km/h, nothing in between. She will blow her high-pitched horn, mimicking her own voice everywhere, wverytime. She believes that hearing it everyone will fear that a railway engine is through.
And then comes the Railway Man, always on his scooter, blowing his horn only after the crossing is crossed.
Suddenly you hear a heart thumping noise. What was that? A demon? Apocalypse? Oh no that was only the school bus honking madly because a pupil is late.
Mr. Cool has his own way. He blows his horn differently, leans like a pro on the turn, and does a wheelie every time he sees a girl. Boy, and he thinks he is cool.
Miss daydream is next. She is all about her own business, looking lost and confused. Only after someone honks does she meekly reply with a small jab at the button. I rather like her; she does not disturb me in the morning snooze. And so the sun settles down into her afternoon position.
It so passes, that whenever you are concentrating on something important, Master Rockstar come out. He bends away like a MAGLEV, almost out of touch of the road (and sometimes he does get out of touch). He always blows his horn in a particular manner, always in a tune. He is loud, boisterous, and, my, he is fast. He just whizzes away, with his horns doppling away.
Then, there is Hurry Billy. He is a sophisticate, and always in a hurry. He tries to beat Valentino Rossi and Jorge Lorenzo right in India’s dilapidated roads, every time he goes out! He always horns, much like miss perky, but always after overtaking. He does everything honking, blowing five-six peace shattering blasts while cruising in the open road, just to show that he is in a hurry.
Then, it is Miss Meticulous. She’ll always blow her horn a particular way, for a particular time. Always 2.63 seconds.
Mr. Hero. He is the person with perfectly set hair, with goggles on his forehead, wearing a handkerchief on his neck, like a scarf with a open shirt showing his vests, and a low waist jeans. He rides a chopper, and with his polished smile, he calmly attaches his air horn. As if he needs one. Such a character, with so loud a bike, can hardly be missed by anyone. But when he it comes to honking he is a villain for sure. He goes crazy, pressing the button like he is keying in a 80 character phone number.
Oh! Had Beethoven heard it, he would have been glad he was deaf. Though, I believe, he would become deaf after hearing that any way.
But the most lethal of them all is the Ninja. Quiet like an owl, he swoops down upon his prey from sharp angled turns, and blind corners, travelling as fast as starlight. He is the most dangerous, and I don’t like him a bit, even though he is not a honker.
And who’s that? He doesn’t need a horn, he has the siren. Oh, he is the local politician; bloody leech of our democracy.
So where is the simple one? The one who uses his horn just to warn others? Why, he is writing this!
