“The neighbors are complaining that our dogs are howling too much” said the DW giving me an accusing look “If it goes on they might complain to the SPCA accusing us of cruelty to the animals” “Okay but why are you looking at me as if I am responsible for it” I asked. “They are mistaking your bathroom singing for dog howls”. That hit me like a bazooka blast. “Rubbish in our house you can’t hear if you are in the living room and someone sings or speaks In the dining room. So how the hell do you expect the neighbors to hear me?” I asked with irritation. “Sound travels in a funny way here you know” You can’t here the guy in the next room but you can here the DIL in the house 100 meters away bad-mouthing her MIL on the telephone” True. From my bathroom, you can get a non-stop audio feed of what is happening in that house Because of that both me and the wife spend more time in the bathroom than necessary irritating each other. “Oh god are you still there” is a standard refrain in our house when it comes to the bathroom. (Times have changed unfortunately due to COVID 19. Probably because the MIL is confined to the house due to lockdown, we don’t here unprintables about her but both MIL and DIL have united bad mouthing everybody and everything under the sun including the Good God, Narendra Modi, and the Chinese). OH dear, I again got trapped in my usual habit of going off on a tangent, have I? I was talking about my singing in the bathroom. Actually , I suspect what provoked the neighbors” complaint was not my singing. After the recent demise of Ennio Morricone, Hollywood, and Italian film composer, I decided to pay tribute to him by vocalizing his theme for the movie The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly in my bathroom. That. you will admit does sound like a pack of dogs howling. or what Germans call Katzenjammer or cats creating a racket or simply din. “ If your voice had reached Ennio like it reached our neighbors, he would have turned violently in his grave, burst out of it, come all the way here, grabbed you by the neck and yelled “ZITTO STUPIDO!” (Shut up you idiot for the Italian challenged), said the wife. “Haw, what do you know about music. You are Aurangzeb in female clothing” I snorted. “What do I need to know ?” she asked angrily. “ Researchers have found that if you sing for at least 10 minutes your stress levels go down, your sinuses are cleared, your body posture improves and your lifespan increases” I said. “If your stress levels going down is inversely proportional to other people’s stress levels skyrocketing, do you expect them to put up with it? Have you no consideration for their lifespan?” the DW asked with a triumphant look of a chess player who had checkmated his/her opponent “Your singing brings in lot of pain to others. It is singing in the Pain like Singing in the Rain” she said mockingly. “Remember your voice should end where the other person’s ear begins” This is the problem. You see opinions on my singing are divided. Everyone other than me thinks I am godawful but I beg to differ. I inherited my bathroom singing talents from my dad Five minutes into belting out a number in the bathroom, my mother would violently bang the door telling him in a matter-of-fact voice that if he didn’t stop she would pack her bags and go to her mother’s place. Cacafonix of Asterix fame must have somehow kicked his genes into me and dad was the general opinion. Seriously, the attempts to muzzle us, bathroom singers, is a violation of our freedom of expression. It is the persecution of a vocal minority. I think like those suffering beatings from wives have formed an organization in India, bathroom singers should do so. Maybe we bathroom singers should also have our own set up that will draw the attention of the Supreme Court to our plight and maybe get a judgment that those who oppose our musical outpourings should buy earplugs. That would also turn earplug manufacture into a thriving industry generating a lot of employment giving a minor shot in the arm of the COVID 19 blighted economy.