I HAD my first experience of ‘Earth Hour’ in 2005, only back then it was called a blackout. 

While chatting with my mother in my bedroom on a weeknight, the electricity went off. My initial thought was that it was just a normal power trip. We went to inspect the fuse box. But there was no power trip. Despite a few attempts at the switches, the electricity did not come back on.

Strange, I thought. 

Then we looked out of the window, and saw the whole estate in darkness. The surrounding blocks were pitched dark; even the street lamps were out. 

Anxious voices murmured across the blocks, as bewildered neighbours struggled to find an explanation for this bizarre occurrence.

The air was so still. It felt like someone had pushed me into a closet and locked me in. Without the security of the white noise from the buzzing wall fans, the sound from the television sets, a tsunami of panic washed over me.

What if this was the precursor to an attack by enemy planes? Had the authorities shut down the whole of Singapore so we went off the radar or something? 

I looked up at the sky immediately. I was waiting for the emergency alert to sound, and, if my fears were true, where could we run? The nearby minimart that was supposedly a bomb shelter? How can it accommodate the entire precinct?

Or was this Armageddon? The end of the world that many have predicted would come? Will I will meet my maker today?

Cut off from all the activities that I'd taken for granted till then, I sat in my living room, panicking and perspiring. With the lights off, my ears were extra sensitive, suddenly growing attuned to the rhythms of the neighbourhood.

The sound of the crickets and the shuffling of feet as people tried to make their way around their houses sounded a couple of decibels louder. Within minutes, candle flames danced in the natural breeze. For the first time, I could hear the distinct tone of the voices of my neighbours. 

I heard a variety of languages, from dialects to English to Chinese to Malay to Tamil. I heard a range of voices, from young kids to teenagers to grandparents. I heard the cars on the streets, their tyres whirring against the road. 

It was as if I was given a new set of headphones with which I could hear the hustle and bustle of life in surround sound. 

These sounds have become white noise that we are now accustomed to. Yet these sounds are what we need to hear to know that we are alive. The rhythm of modern technology has drowned out the rhythm of life. While the invention by Thomas Edison has given us a new lease of life, have we forgotten the real source of life?

After 45 minutes, the power supply returned. The whole estate cheered in unison. Things went back to normal. Families blew their candles out and returned to their thrones, in front of the television set. 

For that 45 minutes, I believed that we did do the earth a favour - albeit unwittingly. Rediscovering the rhythm of life can't be a bad thing. The problem is: It's something we're prone to forget all too soon. 

So, this Earth Hour on Saturday, let’s switch off - not just to save the Earth, but also to remember the symphony of life. For once, let's let the stars show us their splendour and the crickets sing their songs.

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