The Dichotomy Of Sound.

Music composes people. For me, it was never the case.

Everytime I turned on the speakers, automatically, like a sequenced action, my dad would start yelling. The difficulty: choosing between the two sources of sound. Of course, parochially, one should choose the speakers, but, the constant ranting from the latter, makes ignoring it impossible. It'd be like a set of dialogues, looped, with every cycle louder than it's predecessor.

That'd be level 1 of annoyance.

Level 2: Dad would discontinue sitting on the chair, come up next to the speaker, and lower it's volume. As an immediate reflex, I'd raise it up again. And he'd lower it. And, I'd raise it. He'd lower it. Up. And down. Up. And down. Up. And down...

The speaker would be the ambassador of my rage. (Now that sounds hip.) I'd not say a word. It'd be either Dylan, Axl Rose, Mayer, or somebody from the gang. In full volume now. Both the sides.

Most of the times, dad would win. (You know, he's the owner and all. He'd say that buying the speakers was a mistake. And I'd have to be put with a pair of shitty headphones. -.-) Other times, there'd be a loadshedding.