It happened slightly after we came back from lunch.

It started with Shreya’s headphones. People don’t realise just how much noise their headphones can bleed, and I could clearly hear the muffled thump of some trappy alt-R&B beats drifting through the cubicle walls.

Just ignore it, I thought at the time. It’s not that loud, and this is how she gets into her focus mode.

And I suffered through two minutes of it. There were vocals, but they danced just on the threshold of my hearing—as if, if I just strained my ears enough, I’d be able to make out what was going on. And the beat, to give grudging credit where it’s due, was interesting—wonky, drunk, curiously off-beat. In effect, it was almost perfectly un-ignorable.

I had almost resolved to get up and ask Shreya to turn her music down when Camille’s music started. Camille, our newest hire, had the cubicle to my left, and Shreya was on my right. And Camille’s headphones started blaring a madcap ecstasy of cymbal crashes, which opened into a regular loop of electronic beeps and squeals. And now I was being bombarded from left and right with a fusillade of tinny headphone noises.

This cacophony would have been too much to handle, until it struck me that it wasn’t a cacophony at all. Somehow, miraculously, Shreya’s and Camille’s tracks synced up. Their downbeats fell perfectly on top of each other. Their tempos matched precisely, with no drift whatsoever. Even their keys seemed to be harmonically compatible with each other.

And the moment I recognised this unlikely musical serendipity, all my annoyance melted away, replaced by a strange thrill. My own private concert, perfectly DJed by dumb luck. Not even Shreya or Camille would know that the songs they were listening to, individually, melded by chance into a satisfying symphonic whole.

How long could this crystalline synchrony last? Surely not longer than a minute more. Shreya was now three minutes into her song, and the moment that ended, the magic would be lost.

Time was short, but I couldn’t just let it pass. Strange compulsions began to overtake me. I had to do something to immortalise the moment, to preserve the ephemeral magic of this unwittingly perfect stereo medley of beats.

And so that’s why I jumped onto my desk and started rapping Biggie.