The Music which plays in my Car

 

“Every time my surroundings change, I feel enormous sadness. It’s not greater when I leave a place tied to memories, grief or happiness. It’s the change itself that unsettles me, just as liquid in jar turns cloudy when you shake it”

-Italo Svevo, Essays and Uncollected writings //Jhumpa Lahiri, Whereabouts

 

Lately, life has been in a pleasant slumber. Work feels great, the place feels so homely, and the house is absolutely the resthouse one needs after a long day. Days have been productive, yet the pace is somber, happening like wind passing by. With the opportunity of interacting with such versatile set of individuals in a day, I also have started understanding nuances of human behaviour. The foremost subjects of my pursuit in this study, has been my own staff somehow. Bilasipara, being a revered Subdivision of the state since years, has been the steppingstone of many young IAS officers into the temple of bureaucracy. One of my seniors, who themselves were also a part of this rite of passage, very candidly remarked, how the staff of this establishment have served for years, at the same place. They’ve groomed so many officers by now, that they are veterans of this youthful transformation of several new heap of dynamic IAS batches.

One poignant incidence passed my sight in the past days. Trips to Guwahati for officers on field are a commonplace event, due to various meetings and trainings happening across the month. This ultimately has resulted in me travelling for over 6 hours in the company of my driver, guard and sometimes an orderly as well. Earlier, staying quiet and engrossing myself into long binges of some TV show was my go-to survival strategy. But as my staff is growing familiar to me, making some conversation feels like a paramount measure of decency. And so to compensate on the silences in between, music came up as a delightful idea.

As I perused my playlist, wondering what to select and play, my staff encouragingly nudged me to play anything I like. I too, giving little thought, played random songs from my phone. At first, there was a deep deafening silence in the car, so much so, that I started doubting my music choice not fitting to the occasion. But slowly, my guard and driver started humming to the tunes. I felt satisfied and started singing along. For some minutes, it felt like an extremely formal karaoke of 90s Hindi songs was successfully established on the four chairs of our moving car. But sooner, a song, very rare and hardly found in someone’s playlist, started playing in full volume, but the humming of my staff continued. I was perplexed, thinking how they knew this song. On asking, Govind my guard, coyly said, “Ma’am, humko to koi bhi gaana nahi aata, hum to aise hi gaa raha hai!”

I braved a laugh, but then it sent me to a deeper thought. How many officers before me would have played their song playlists in this car? How many times my staff would fake enjoyment and familiarity towards the music? Was it also a part of the bandwagon of ego-massaging us officers are so used to by now? Is it only the music, or is it more?

And so, I further thought. As I keep switching between postings and absolutely dread a new setup and a new process of warming up to a place, do they also feel the same? Do they too dread a new officer every time, even after so many years? And if this is the case, does this cycle of making a new home out of a new set of officers and staffs, ever enough for anyone? The difference between what is real and what is fake, what part of personal life is left personal and whether all of it is just a game of cohabitation with cordiality for both the officer and the staff, grappled me with every second. In an exchange of enjoying one’s music, and habits, are they really enjoying? Or are they, only quiet spectators of the circus of the Officer’s life, pretending to be dancing along, but in reality, just watching them jump and fall? 

And as the ride ended, I lost myself in the transience of the moment, the people and my thoughts, as the music of my car slowly faded.