Delhi, February. About 7.30am, and I’m just heading out the door to go to work. I hear the hoot of a train from the nearby track.
Only it sounds different: three rising tones rather than two. Or the more common long, single, plaintive note. I think to myself how it sounded like a trombone.
I carry on walking past the park and hear it again. Odd.
As I turn the corner, in front of me is a man in a Sergeant Pepper-style wedding band uniform, white with red and silver trimmings, and no hat. He’s walking alone down the middle of the road, holding a silver Tuba. The residential streets are quite busy with mums taking kids to school, and men washing cars, and he’s getting some funny looks.
He plays the 3 rising notes again, root-third-fifth, and this time adds a bit of a cavalry charge on the end, using the same notes but descending. People are wondering what he’s doing. He seems to be walking to the corner of each street, aiming his Tuba down the road, and announcing something with it.
A woman comes out of her front door and starts telling him off. He protests and tries to explain, but wanders off anyway.
As I carry on walking towards the metro station, I can hear his notes in the distance: root, third, fifth, plus a little bit of cavalry charge.