Recently the Supreme Court held that no religious group had a right to amplify their prayers and chanting so as to disturb neighbours. Yet, groups go on doing what they want to, are outraged by court rulings and defy regulations which limit loud music such as the music which accompanies ras and garba at navratri. What is strange is not that these restrictions are imposed but that there is surprise and resentment when that is done. What is even stranger is that most of us are more than happy, even relieved, when there are such restrictions on others but the sense of relief becomes a sense of outrage when one’s own religion or one’s own festival is similarly regulated.

The human infant is very selfish; it asserts its right without bothering about its long–suffering mother. We do not blame it because it does not know any better; as infants grow up, most of them recognise the rights of the other members of the family, the other children in the school, and so on, and become conscious of the rights of others, and are usually considerate in their behaviour. They become socially adjusted. We condemn those children who remain selfish and self–centred; we call them spoilt.

Yet very many of us behave like spoilt children even after we grow up. There can be no other explanation for an insistence on playing music loudly (even if that keeps our neighbours awake), or to block streets on festive and religious occasions (even if it stops the flow of traffic and disturbs many others).

If one lived in an unregulated society, it would be the law of the jungle with the strong bullying the weak. Living in a civil society prevents this; the weak are no longer at the mercy of the strong. And democracy, equality and the rule of law ensure that each of us have rights which we can assert. But no ‘right’ can be absolute; it must be subject to restraints because if one person can assert his right without any limits it means that others are denied their rights. Every right is coupled with a duty, a duty not to interfere with the rights of others.

It is to avoid a ‘free for all’ that there have to be limits on the rights that a person enjoys. What the limits are will vary with the circumstances.

A man living alone in a desert can do what he likes, as there are no neighbours whose rights have to be protected. In a small village with a scattered population, it may not matter much what people do, particularly if all are participating in the same festival or wedding. In a rural community revolving round agriculture where most people go early to bed and have nothing much to do when the agricultural work is slack, being kept awake at night may be a tolerable imposition.

The situation is quite different in a congested city with a cosmopolitan and mixed population. A Hindu is unlikely to be enthusiastic about a muharram procession which delays him, and a Muslim or Christian (and, indeed, many a Hindu) is likely only to be affronted by a crowd of Holi revellers throwing colour on him. If a man is doing shift work, and trying to get some rest, being kept awake night after night would be almost unendurable.

In the past, noise was contained, so to speak, by the fact that human voice, and even the volume of sound generated by the voices of many persons, did not carry very far. Even the sound of a number of drums could not be a nuisance beyond a limited distance. Modern technology such as loudspeakers and amplifiers, which enormously expand the volume of sound, has extended both the distance the sound travels and the extent of the nuisance it causes. Prayers, chants and music, which, in the past, were barely heard outside the temple, church, or mosque, are now heard almost half a kilometre away. A striking example is the Muslim call for prayer; the sound, much amplified, now disturbs the entire neighbourhood five times a day!

The exercise of all rights must, therefore, be subject to the rights of others. The rights of ordinary citizens, who are not participating in the festival or ceremony which are regularly flouted by the selfish behaviour of others are the rights of privacy, the right to move on public streets and the right to peace and quiet in their own homes.

Various interest groups take out morchas very frequently. The ‘causes’ are many: there are morchas to protest against some government action or policy; there are morchas to protest against some action of a foreign government. They are big or small. Groups of people block half of a busy road causing massive traffic jams. Ordinary people miss their trains and doctor’s appointments; the bus service is dislocated so that commuters have to wait for hours for a bus after a long and tiring day.

Unless the morcha turns violent, which a few do, the authorities do not even notice them; the weary citizens curse them without often even knowing the ‘cause’; the only people who derive satisfaction are the organisers as this is a method by which they assert their power.

The Constitutional guarantees can be curtailed in the interests of public order; but politicians are chary of doing so as they do not wish to become unpopular with the very vocal and vociferous groups who organise such morchas. The only sufferers are the ordinary people.

Surely, it is high time that all such processions should be banned; the organisers can call meetings and assemble on selected maidans where they will not disturb others.

Another serious problem is caused in the name of religion.

In Bombay, for example, the period from September to October is appalling. We first have the ten-day ganapati festival. In numerous locations in the city, night after night, festive gathering with blaring music — much of it non–religious — goes on in specially erected pandals. Many block streets partially or wholly. On several days there are processions that last for several hours, blocking street after street. The processions often carry amplified music and fire–crackers are let out on the street.

Soon thereafter, we have the navratri festival with loud music for nine nights. Then there is diwali with fire–crackers and other noise. Coinciding with these, is the Mount Mary Festival, and depending on the Muslim calendar, the Mahim urs.

If one is ‘caught’ in a procession, a journey which ordinarily takes an hour takes two or three; some roads are blocked altogether, in others, traffic crawls. People miss trains and flights, doctors cannot get to their patients, and ambulances cannot move either. The inconvenience, or worse, caused to hundreds of thousands of people is difficult to describe, and the financial loss considerable.

The police do the best that they can but their instructions are usually flouted, often with the connivance of politicians. There have been cases of neighbours who have complained to the police being threatened and even beaten up!

Apart from such festivals which affect the whole city, we often have weddings round the year when there is blaring music till the early hours of the morning. True, such events only affect the locality, and not the whole city, but they do make the evening and night unbearable for the unfortunates in the neighbourhood.

It is surely ludicrous for any group to contend that behaving in such an anti-social manner is an exercise of a right to practice religion or a right to assemble peacefully. What is being done is to practice the law of the jungle, to assert the ‘right’ of the particular group to do what it wants to do, unmindful of the rights of others to peaceably go about their life.

A spoilt child only makes the life of its family members miserable. When groups of adult citizens behave like spoilt children, doing what they want to, when they want to, and how they want to, they strain the whole fabric of civil society. It is this behaviour which separates group from group, and breeds disharmony and conflict.

Exasperated citizens rush to the police, and sometimes get redress. If that does not work, they go to court which grants them some peace and quiet. Complaints and court proceedings cannot, however, be a lasting solution. To achieve such a solution, all of us must become tolerant of the rights of others, and remember others when we pray, or celebrate our religious and other festivals. We must, while exercising our rights, not forget our duties.