Source text in English | Translation by Umid Alimov (#24023) |
A theme of the age, at least in the developed world, is that people crave silence and can find none. The roar of traffic, the ceaseless beep of phones, digital announcements in buses and trains, TV sets blaring even in empty offices, are an endless battery and distraction. The human race is exhausting itself with noise and longs for its opposite—whether in the wilds, on the wide ocean or in some retreat dedicated to stillness and concentration. Alain Corbin, a history professor, writes from his refuge in the Sorbonne, and Erling Kagge, a Norwegian explorer, from his memories of the wastes of Antarctica, where both have tried to escape. And yet, as Mr Corbin points out in "A History of Silence", there is probably no more noise than there used to be. Before pneumatic tyres, city streets were full of the deafening clang of metal-rimmed wheels and horseshoes on stone. Before voluntary isolation on mobile phones, buses and trains rang with conversation. Newspaper-sellers did not leave their wares in a mute pile, but advertised them at top volume, as did vendors of cherries, violets and fresh mackerel. The theatre and the opera were a chaos of huzzahs and barracking. Even in the countryside, peasants sang as they drudged. They don’t sing now. What has changed is not so much the level of noise, which previous centuries also complained about, but the level of distraction, which occupies the space that silence might invade. There looms another paradox, because when it does invade—in the depths of a pine forest, in the naked desert, in a suddenly vacated room—it often proves unnerving rather than welcome. Dread creeps in; the ear instinctively fastens on anything, whether fire-hiss or bird call or susurrus of leaves, that will save it from this unknown emptiness. People want silence, but not that much. | Yosh mavzusi, hech bo'lmaganda rivojlangan dunyoda, – bu odamlar tinchlik va osoyishtalikni juda istashlari, lekin uni topa olmasliklari. Ko'cha harakatining shovqini, telefonlarning uzluksiz signal tovushi, avtobus va poezdlarda raqamli e'lonlar berilishi, hatto bo'sh idoralarda ham televizorlarning baland ovozda ishlashi – bu hammasi bir tuganmas batareya va diqqatni chalg'itishdir. Inson zoti shovqin tufayli o'zini holdan to'ydiryapti. Tarix professori Alen Korbin, Sorbonnadagi boshpanasida, va Norvegiyalik tadqiqotchi Erling Kagge, Antarktika cho'llari haqidagi xotiralarida, ular ko'chmoqchi bo'lgan yurtlatlar haqida hikoya qiladilar. Shunga qaramay, "A History of Silence" kitobida janob Korbin alohida e'tibor qaratganidek, ehtimol oldingiga qaraganda shovqin xozir ko'p emas. Pnevmatik shinalar paydo bo'lishidan oldin, shahar ko'chalari quloqni kar qiladigan metalldan yasalgan g'ildiraklar va otlar taqasining tosh ustida jiringlashlari bilan to'la edi. Q'ol telefonlarini ixtiyoriy ravishda bekitishdan oldin, avtobus va poezdlarda telefon suhbatlari eshtilar edi. Gazeta sotuvchilari o'zlarining molini shovqinsiz to'dalab qoldirib ketmaganlar, aksincha, gilos, binafsha va yangi skumbriya sotuvchilari kabi, baland ovozda e'lon qilganlar. Teatr va operalar tartibsiz qichqirishlar va baqir-chaqir joylari edi. Hatto qishloqlarda ham dehqonlar og'ir ish paytida qo'shiq aytishgan. Hozir ular qo'shiq aytishmaydi. Nima o'zgargan bo'lsa ham, bu, o'tgan asrlarda ham shikoyat kilganlaridek, shovqin darajasi emas, balki, tinchlik va osoyishtalik kirib kelishi mumkin bo'lgan, atrofni egallagan diqqatni chalg'itish darajasidir. Bu erda yana bir paradoks paydo bo'lyapti, chunki agar tinchlik va osoyishtalik qarag'aylar o'rmonining ichkarisiga, ochiq cho'lga va to'satdan bo'shab qolgan xonaning ichiga kirib kelsa, u ko'pincha qutlash o'rniga asabiylashishga olib keladi. Qo'rqishdan titrashlar; ho olov visilashi ho qushlar chaqirig'i ho barglar shitirlashi bo'lsin, quloq o'zini bu noma'lum bo'shlikdan qutqarish uchun instinktiv ravishda har qanday tovushga ilashadi. Odamlar tinchlik va osoyishtalikni xohlashadi, lekin bu qadar emas. |