Let there be rock DOS

The lights came in every hue and looked down upon us. Showering their light contemptuously at the millions of onlookers among which there was I. The place felt like a Rastafarian party. It reminded me of the good old days of ‘Hare Rama Hare Krsna’ being ad-libbed by saffron clad and long haired hippies promoting world peace and legalization of Hashish. There was a cloud of smoke in my vicinity and what more, it seemed to be perpetual. As one cloud would move on, another would strategically take its place. It wasn’t all tobacco, there was a lot of weed too, guess that was the saving grace. And then this stick wearing a dress apparates and he’s wet and is wearing this gigantic hat and I’m like, ‘What the hell is that?’ It’s (He’s) the epitome of glam rock. Steven Tyler.

And almost instantly he gets to work. The previous night Siddharth and me were listening to all Aerosmith songs(a pathetic attempt), so that on the D Day we wouldn’t look like schmucks head banging to stuff we didn’t know while the crowd chanted the song in unison, almost mocking us.

And then the song started. And I didn’t know it. I turned around to see Sid, with empty eyes, as though hinting to him the ignominy of being a fallen pseudo-fan. Sonam didn’t care much. She was too busy balancing herself on her toes, trying to get a glimpse of the onstage act, or so I though.

And then it happened again, the next song too! No clue whatsoever! Zilch! Yet I regained my confidence and started jumping up and down screaming, hooting and well trying to get a hint of the chorus. Boy was I looking like a jackass. My huge overgrown body screaming for me to cease the relentless motion. Telling me that I wasn’t meant for this sort of physical activity. Begging me to stop. And the weed.

And the weed

And the weed

It just kept coming from all directions, as though I was a sort of beacon and it surrounded me.

Tyler sang “Crazy”. Ah finally something familiar. Oh so familiar. The large screens started playing the video and almost everyone’s gaze fell to the young and carefree Alicia Silverstone (who features in the video).

Suddenly my ears get to hear the incoherent vocals from spaghetti clad damsel who is riding a man’s shoulder as though in a rodeo bar. Intoxicated probably because what she was singing didn’t make much sense.

Another thing I noticed during the concert was that Steven Taylor isn’t afraid of his sexuality. I understand the whole glam rock set up, but come on…

then there's this....

Oh come on, get a room!

After that Joe Perry announces that the true reason he’d come to India weren’t the elephants or the spices, its Kamasutra. He wanted to thank the nation of a billion where the Kamasutra took its birth and ironically people were forbidden to speak about it as though it doesn’t exist. I mean come on! A country of a billion people, somebody must be seriously getting laid!

Honestly, that is just freaky. Its like a cave! I have never seem a man with a mouth so wide!

Well, the concert was short, or so it seemed, apparently they sang a dozen songs. In between they decided to bring a couple of chairs and chill there.

Tyler was obsessed with saying ‘Namaste’, I think someone told him that it was the Indian equivalent of “Rock on dude!”, coz that’s the zeal with which he kept announcing it. The crowd was maniacal. Millions of yuppies head banging and swaying. I’d say it was a nice experience.

Let there be Rock- UNO

This entry has been due for a really long time and procrastination has been sweet

“Aerosmith are coming to India!”

“Really?”

“Hmm...That’s great. So it’s probably going to be Bangalore”

“Where else?”

“I’m so going to that concert. Yeah! Woo! It’s going to be one kickass concert. I'll be rocking and screaming all night! It’ll probably (main act) start at midnight and go on all night. I will go wild. Wild! I tell ya!”

I comforted myself with the thought of witnessing a rock act in real life atlast. I wouldn't remain a lowly concert virgin anymore. Something to look forward to in the holidays. Now, when someone would ask me the most cliched question that one could be asked during vacations:

Hey Sup/wassup/wazza/whats up? amongst others

And they'd tell me how they have been reading, sleeping, watching TV, going on and on about how they're getting to eat good food as though they'd just been enduring a Somalian summer, I'd have something in my arsenal to top it all.

I WENT FOR THE FUCKING CONCERT, YEAAAAAH!
I reached Bangalore on the 25th, whose dwellers still haven't lifted their head from shame ever since its name was changed to a much less extravagant Bengalooru. The past week had been hectic. Road trips had taken its toll on me. First Vellore, then Mysore, then Ooty and then Coimbatore. Our driver, knowing fairly well that we’d had no idea about the roadways of the glorious state of Tamil Nadu kept on asking us which route to take at each detour (obviously suggesting his preference as well). I guess it was his way of showing that we were inferior, far inferior as far as the topography went. Now that was obviously true, yet parents being the species they are just have to be extremely opinionated on everything. I guess they were trying to instill the habit of self imposed authority in me despite knowing very well that the man behind the wheel was quite the master of puppets here. I still can’t forget the amount of dust that was generated as our mean escape machine (non AC that too) hurtled down the highway, which in fact seemed like a never ending construction site, just that there didn’t seem to be much construction going on. I could feel a second layer of dust accumulate evenly on my face.

Finally I reached Bangalore, with a paralyzed buttock, a battered back and apparently the entire South India covering my face. The concert was a sort of salvation for which I had endured hell (which took a detour from Salem).

Siddharth, Sonam and Me reached the venue. Palace Grounds, Bangalore. The rock haven. We had decided to go about an hour late so that we wouldn’t have to witness the opening act by Galeej Gurus. What greeted me instead was the longest standing queue I had ever laid my eyes on, and quite a dynamic queue it was, with people coming in and joining. It was quite easy to get carried away and label every woman standing there as a whore.

Siddharth led us past the wall of human flesh, and we followed like prisoners of war towards the entry zone. After being frisked on numerous occasions (by now being totally convinced that this was a method of segregating the straight from the gay) by men of all sorts I finally reached the grounds.

I will never forget that sight. If there was ever a near perfect representation of the Poisson distribution that Mr. BKM so vividly tried to explain to us in Prob Stat class, this was it. Each spectator fused into the one standing around him/her to form what was the most massive silhouette I had ever witnessed.

The stage was concert-esque. It might sound blatantly hypocritical considering that this was my first actual concert, for I would not consider head banging to Daler Mehndi as a little lad while everyone around me were yelping “Oye!” and “Purr!” as one. The lights went off.

The shrills were earsplitting. From the corner of my eyes I could already see a bra strap fall off a shoulder (much to the ignorance of the Madame I suppose). The night had just begun.

Aerosmith was in the house

To be continued…