Put in your earphones. It’s not that hard

Over the past few weeks, during my usual movements around the city, something caught my attention again and again.

It was not something new, not something shocking, but something so common that perhaps many of us have stopped noticing it. Yet the more I observed it, the more it began to reflect something deeper about how we behave in shared spaces.

The first moment came during a bus ride. Like most mornings, the bus was filled with people going about their day. Some were staring out the window, some scrolling quietly through their mobile phones, some perhaps still waking up mentally before the day began.

A few stops later, someone sat nearby and began watching a video on their phone. That by itself was perfectly normal. After all, we all carry our mobiles everywhere and they have become part of our daily lives. But the video was on full volume.

Within minutes, another passenger started a call on speaker mode. The conversation was loud enough that everyone in the surrounding rows could hear it clearly.

Soon someone else began playing a voice note repeatedly, trying to understand what the sender had said.

In a short, quiet moment, the calm rhythm of the bus had turned into a mix of someone’s drama video, someone’s personal conversation and someone’s WhatsApp voice messages.

I sat there and asked myself a simple question: why? Why must everyone else hear your video? Why must the whole bus listen to your conversation? Why do we feel so comfortable turning shared public spaces into extensions of our own private environment?

What made it even more interesting was the way the passenger on the mobile phone was speaking. His hands were moving animatedly, his fingers pointing, his head nodding and shaking as he explained something with intensity – almost as though the person on the other end of the line could see every gesture.

It became a small performance in the middle of the bus, except none of us had asked to be part of the audience.

The pattern repeats

Later that same day, I took the light rail transit (LRT) and the pattern repeated itself. The train carriage was filled with people quietly minding their own business – some reading messages, some simply resting after a long day, others thinking about work or family matters.

Suddenly someone near the door began a video call on speaker mode. A loud conversation echoed across the carriage.

A few seats away, someone else started watching a football highlights clip at full volume.

Two different sounds in the same confined space.

Again, I looked around and wondered whether people truly realised that dozens of strangers were sharing that same environment. Was it awareness that was missing, or had we simply become so comfortable with our gadgets that we no longer noticed how our behaviour affects others?

And once again the same question surfaced in my mind: why is using an earphone so difficult? Why do we spend thousands of ringgit on advanced smartphones but hesitate to use a simple earpiece? Why must everyone else become the background audience to our digital entertainment?

The mamak soundtrack

Later that evening I stopped at a mamak shop – a place many of us love because it represents something distinctly Malaysian.

Mamak restaurants are social spaces where people gather to eat, chat, relax and enjoy simple moments of life. You see students studying, friends debating football results, families having dinner, workers winding down after a long day.

Yet increasingly another soundtrack has entered that environment: mobile phones. One table plays a video loudly, another table speaks on speakerphone, a third repeatedly plays voice notes.

Instead of the comforting sounds of teh tarik being poured or roti canai flipped on the hot pan, the background atmosphere becomes a mix of digital noise from multiple devices.

Sitting there quietly with a cup of tea, I found myself wondering again whether the people around us came to enjoy their own meal and moment of peace – or whether they unknowingly signed up to listen to someone else’s phone.

The issue is not technology itself. Technology has given us incredible tools that connect us instantly, entertain us endlessly and help us work faster than ever before. Almost all of us depend on our mobiles daily. The real question lies elsewhere – in awareness.

Public spaces are shared spaces – whether it is a bus, train, café, restaurant, waiting lounge or even an office. Every person sitting there carries his or her own thoughts, responsibilities and emotions.

Some may be preparing mentally for a meeting, some may be studying for an exam, some may be thinking about family issues, and some may simply be enjoying a quiet moment of rest after a demanding day.

Yet when loud videos and conversations dominate the space, that quiet balance disappears.

What Japan can teach us

When you travel to countries like Japan, the contrast is immediately visible. Their trains are often more crowded than ours, their cities even busier, and mobile phones are everywhere.

Yet the environment remains remarkably calm. Mobiles are placed on silent mode. Videos are watched using earphones. If someone must take a call, they step aside or speak quietly. 

Signage reminding passengers to keep mobiles silent and respect shared spaces appears throughout trains and stations.

These signs are not merely instructions. They are reminders that public spaces carry not just physical bodies but also the minds and emotions of the people within them. Noise does not only disturb the ears; it disturbs the mind and the soul of those around us.

We often speak proudly about becoming a developed nation. We talk about smart cities, digital innovation, high-speed infrastructure and modern lifestyles.

But development is not measured only by the buildings we construct or the technology we carry in our pockets. Development is also measured by behaviour. It is reflected in the awareness we show towards strangers who share the same environment.

Using earphones costs almost nothing. Lowering the volume takes a single second. Stepping aside to take an important call takes two minutes at most. These are not sacrifices but simple signs of civic maturity.

Sometimes it feels as though we carry the newest smartphone models while still holding on to an older public mindset. So perhaps the real issue is not the mobile at all. Perhaps the real question lies within us.

The next time we sit in a bus, ride the LRT, wait in an airport terminal, walk through a shopping mall, relax at a mamak shop or sit quietly in a restaurant, maybe we can pause and ask ourselves a simple question: does everyone around me really need to hear what is happening on my mobile?

Progress is not always measured by what we build or what we own. Progress is also seen in the respect we give to one another in shared spaces.

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