Matrix
A weird thought has been buzzing in my head when I walk at Marine Drive. One of many weird thoughts, I admit. But this one has potential for promoting world peace and harmony. So it’s weird but wonderful.
The regular walkers know each other by face. Some we nod to, others we smile at. There is the handsome man recovering from a stroke – I smile at him. And at the thin lady who walks super fast. I save my biggest smiles for the dogs. I try to maintain a faint upward tilt of the mouth anyway while walking – my natural frown would be too startling on a face flushed red with exercise and enthusiasm.
Most of us are plugged into headphones or earbuds. We walk, oblivious of each other’s thoughts and emotions. Some walk with eyes set in the distance, others catch your eye. Some couples walk side by side, others trail one behind the other. Today, a senior couple, the lady in salwar kameez and keds, the man in baggy shorts and t shirt, are a fine sight to see. They hold hands as they stroll. The lady chatters animatedly and the man listens attentively, carefully guiding her around cracked tiles or puddles. They are two of the few people talking to each other and not tuning in to their phones.
But back to being plugged in. I’m curious to know what music everyone is listening to. I wonder if they’d like to listen in to my playlist. What if we were all hooked in to some kind of Matrix like music network? As soon as we hit the pavement, we’d all be listening to a song from someone’s playlist. Then from someone else’s. I don’t mind a bhajan if you don’t mind Van Halen. I’ll listen to rap if you listen to Kishore Kumar…and feel free to unlink any time you want.
I like to imagine my song playing on everyone’s headphones. Jealous Lover, maybe, or Tiny Dancer. From one end of Marine Drive to the other, people listening to Rainbow or Elton John, not knowing which stranger’s choice of music is playing. Then switch, and something completely different comes on. A track from Gully Boy maybe – there are many tees sporting the apna time aayega legend. Or a ghazal – Khayyam Saab is on everyone’s playlists these days.
As I walk, I imagine the lives of people around me. I admit to jumping to conclusions, about their choices, their motives, their desires. My son says: Mom, don’t be judgey. I try not to be. I do. It would be so cool to hear what people are listening to. Maybe that tubby teenager with a red tilak on his head is listening to Eminem. Or the burkha clad woman with sneakers peeking out is bopping to Bappi Lahiri. Me, I’m the grey haired, plump woman. Immigrant Song or Highway to Hell may not be your first choice when you imagine my playlist. So yeah, it would be a cool way to see each other with fresh eyes, leaving biases and stereotypes behind. See past the skin and the hair and the clothes (that sounded creepy but I don’t mean it that way – no x-ray vision or anything). Beyond the tilak and skull cap and stilletos.
Music means so much to me. My playlist is clues to my mind, my life. I’m guessing music means as much to many people out there. Listening in to a stranger’s mood would feel strangely liberating. Instead of being inside my head all the time, I’d get a little playtime inside someone else’s mind. (Again, sounds creepy but isn’t meant to be.)
And what about those happy souls who have no device or headphones but still groove to the music in their heads? I met two of them today. One lanky guy doing the bhangra, the other a small chap bopping along to the beat in his head. It seems to me that they are the key to this whole idea. People who hear music in their heads? They exist in an exalted plane and could provide the kinetic energy to link us all up. I’m not sure of the hows but we’ll figure it out.
The Marine Drive Matrix. You heard it here first.