Noise, Power, and the Struggle for Shared Space

Public festivals and the Sound of Our Society

By U.Dasin

In the past week, we have witnessed — sometimes participated in, sometimes been overwhelmed by — the vibrant expressions of faith during the pilgrimage to Grand Bassin in the days leading up to Maha Shivaratri. The pilgrimage itself is steeped in history and struggle. A well-known story tells of a dream that led seven friends to explore the island’s challenging landscape, trekking from the North to the Midlands and discovering the lake in its pristine beauty. It is a tale of determination, courage, and faith in difficult times, and it remains inspiring.

Today, however, the atmosphere at Grand Bassin can feel very different. The site can sometimes seem crowded and noisy, with loud devotional songs and numerous food stalls competing for attention. This sensory intensity can make quiet reflection and introspection — central purposes of pilgrimage — more difficult. It is understandable that devotional music accompanies pilgrims on long treks, but at times the overall effect can feel overwhelming.

“Public space is frequently occupied through noise and disregard for others: shopping centres amplify music under the assumption that volume stimulates consumption; residential neighbourhoods endure weekend parties that spill into the night; some drivers transform roads into stages for self-assertion, with music blaring from their vehicles at all hours…”

During the pilgrimage, one also notices that traffic rules are often stretched, as drivers navigate crowded roads and large crowds. This is not unique to the festival; it reflects broader patterns of public behaviour seen throughout the year. The high visibility of the pilgrimage simply makes it more noticeable. While these challenges are real, they can also be seen as opportunities to reflect on personal discipline and the collective responsibility of all communities in public spaces.

The deeper issue is a broader and persistent culture of incivility that affects the country throughout the year. Public space is frequently occupied through noise and disregard for others: shopping centres amplify music under the assumption that volume stimulates consumption; residential neighbourhoods endure weekend parties that spill into the night; some drivers transform roads into stages for self-assertion, with music blaring from their vehicles at all hours.

The government has begun addressing certain aspects of this problem, particularly road rage. Yet legislation alone can only act as a deterrent. It may penalise overspeeding, running traffic lights, or aggressive driving, but it cannot by itself cultivate civic consciousness. The bullying of more vulnerable drivers reveals a deeper issue: an ingrained sense of entitlement in some segments of male identity, across communities, that assumes ownership of space. This entitlement manifests in everyday monopolisation of roads and public areas, accompanied by a lack of awareness of how such behaviour intimidates or marginalises others.

The problem, therefore, is not confined to one community, one festival, or one musical genre. It is structural and cultural. Men and women, young and old, across communities participate in varying degrees in this erosion of civility. Yet the heightened visibility of the Maha Shivaratri pilgrimage makes one category – young Hindu males – stand out. They risk becoming emblematic, in the eyes of outsiders, of all that is wrong. This selective focus conveniently deflects the self-scrutiny required across communities. What is seen during the pilgrimage is, in many ways, only the visible concentration of behaviours that occur year-round in different forms.

There is also a paradox at work in contemporary politics. Postmodern discourses rightly sought to give voice to the historically marginalised. Yet when groups who were once excluded come to occupy public space more assertively — sometimes under the shield of political correctness — the question arises: does empowerment automatically generate civic responsibility? Inclusion without a parallel cultivation of civic ethics risks reproducing the same patterns of domination it once opposed.

Change in the private sphere is complex and sensitive. The public sphere, however, offers room for gradual transformation through sustained campaigns. Institutions such as the Mauritius Film Development Corporation (MFDC), for example, could produce short, impactful videos addressing behaviour in public spaces – mirroring everyday incivility back to citizens so they can see themselves objectively. Long-term educational campaigns, beginning in schools and reinforced through media, might slowly reshape norms around noise, driving, gender respect, and shared space.

Devotional music may sustain pilgrims on long treks. Collective celebration has its place. But when volume eclipses mindfulness, and fervour overrides civic responsibility, something essential is lost. If pilgrimage is meant to refine the self, then part of that refinement must include how one inhabits public space.

Mauritius Times ePaper Friday 20 February 2026