In a voice barely above a whisper, our biology teacher would apologise sweetly for coming late to class. Laughing and smiling, she would ask us what we wanted to study. Her voice was so soft, we could hear her breathe.
Next, she would take a chalk and draw softly on the board.
Light grazing noises would fill the room as she gently traced lines across the board. Her polished fingernails would tap softly the wooden desk.
However, it was her hushed whispers that triggered the most tingles.
I would just sit there, body flooded with sensations.
Soft noises - chalk, whisper, tapping - would sweep the class. And most of us would pass into a sensory wonderland.
We made similar sounds to calm ourselves in examination halls. Students would bring chunky, noisy plastic bags and scrunch them up. I would listen to the crisp sound and feel a chill spread through the back of my brain. It brought me to the point of sleep, and sometimes failure.
Recently, it occurred to me that I could recreate the experience on the Net, when sleep refused to come.
So, one night, I opened YouTube, and the headphones started playing a woman's voice. She appeared to be cosying up to me, chewing gum, blowing sweet nothings into my ears. I immediately threw away the headphones. The sensation was too much.
The experience took me to my childhood days, when we would run around and puff "boo" into ears, and our eardrums would vibrate with joy.
All these were autonomous sensory meridian responses (ASMRs). Or, simply, pleasurable tingles in your head, neck, or back. ASMR sounds like a scientific term but it has no scientific backing yet. Heck, I don't even know who came up with this important-looking term. But web communities have sprung up around videos that spark ASMR. Whispering is a trigger, but anything can set off an episode. Tapping, scratching, folding towels, personal attention, such as a haircut, ear cleaning, visit to the dentist, eye examination, medical check-up.
For example, I saw a video in which a breathy woman started whispering, "I would like to protect you from the cruel world. I would like to help you relax and forget all your troubles."
She smiled and leaned close, running her fingers all over the camera lens, as if patting my face.
Her attention gave me cola bubbles in my head. I got so blissed out, I was reminded of apes picking bugs off each other's backs - a most peaceful scene.
ASMR videos remind us of the joy in simple things, like the sound of thick pages turning. I remember how my biology teacher would keep asking me questions and keep flipping pages, and I would just bliss out and stare at her with a silly smile.
Recently, I watched a YouTube video in which a pretty alien woman abducts a man in her spaceship. She stares at her subject and proceeds to probe his ears with a stick. I hear the delicate scratching and scraping and shifting of boulders of ear wax. The man's face says he has reached paradise.
One of my favourite triggers on the net is the late Bob Ross, a painter known for his instructional videos. He not only completes the painting in 26 minutes, but also murmurs in his calming voice "happy little trees" and "what the heck, let's give the bush a little friend over here" and "there are no mistakes, only happy accidents." His rich baritone pours warm sand all over you. And the rustle of his brush against canvas immerses you in the moment.
Watching Ross paint is like watching a plant grow - very relaxing.
Yet, for many, the soft rustle of the brush is just that, no tingles. Whatever the case, ASMR is never naughty. A few creeps insist otherwise. To hell with them.
I, Net Sherpa, salute this web community for reminding us there is peace in simple sounds, even amid the commotion of life.
ashish.sharma@bsmail.in
