On a Concert Night

So, yesterday was an important day, because of three things-

- It was my parent's 29th anniversary. To be honest, I hate the fact that their anniversary comes a month before my birthday. So every year, I'm reminded of my age one month earlier and moan about the fact that I'm one year closer to 30. Once I hit 30, I'll then start panicking about 40 and so on..            

- It was India's Independence Day. And am sorry to say that I forgot to think about my favourite freedom fighters and instead as I was scrubbing my kitchen and moping the floors; thinking about how much 'freedom' I could have if a full time maid gave me some 'independence' from house-work!!                

- Shreya Ghoshal ( yes that fab voice behind Zoobie Doobie and Devdas) was in town and I had one ticket for the concert. And no, I love being by myself, and don't miss not having company.

So, house work complete and a bath later, I was all set to go for the grand concert. Of course hubby cribbed about me not being around and all that jazz, but I firmly said goodbye. After all, its only when he's not around that I get to strut around in my heels. ( yeah yeah, this 5 feet 10 inches me has HEELS!) so what, even models own hundreds!!

When I landed at the venue, the first instinct I had was to run away from there. People were decked up in such fine stylish wear and yours truly had gone in her trademark kurta and jeans. I mean, people had seriously put thought into what they were going to be seen in and all I did was pick up whatever was already ironed. So, all my enthu about hearing Shreya vanished. I firmly decided that I was going to pick up some expensive designer wear next trip to Cochin and I'll be damned if I don't have any people looking enviously at me. The next thing I noticed was that I was in a sea of Indians. I mean INDIANS!!!! Of course you see Indians all the time when you're in Singapore, but how often do you get to see just Indians minus any other nationality??? When you're abroad like me, believe me, even the sight of one Indian does strange things to you. And here were plenty of them speaking in a number of languages, all come to have a good time.

And that's when I realised- 90% of them were Bengalis. It made me smile to hear Bengali being spoken again.  It's been years since I heard that sweet language anywhere close to me. I so wanted to butt in and tell the number of groups I saw yapping together- ' Hey Nomoshkar! Ami Sanjana. ' ( is that even how to introduce myself?? I have completely forgotten) and that made me miss my Bengali friends from MBA so much, my then room mate Mamta who is happily settled somewhere in Canada and  all the love and craziness and deep conversations you can only have with Bengalis. Of course am also very partial to the fact that they have such fantastic writers, produce such good music, are coastal people like us Mallus and can't do without coconut and fish; again like us Mallus.  So while I was thinking of them and wondering what they may be doing this very minute; I spotted a  Sardar complete with turban and all. And of course that set me on a memory trip back in time, where I first met Punjabis while doing my MBA. My best friend is a Punjabi and am thinking of the way they dance ( I swear it, nobody can dance like a Punjabi can, they just have it running in their feet) and the way they LIVE up life. And then I hear somebody speak Hindi and that makes me grin, because now its Mumbai with all its life, squalor and everything else that comes to mind. And of course, am missing the city so much I want to get magically transported there..

That's when it hit me-  not even one South Indian was present. I didn't spot even ONE. And then something else hit me harder- I was the only one who came all by myself. Everybody else came with their families and friends. So, my determination to have a great time is slowly waning away. And then to add more salt to my already sore wounds, I spot another 20 women wearing the same aqua green color as me. Seriously, if I was shorter I might have been crawling on the floor, but thanks to the fact that I tower over half of society in my full 5 feet 10 inches glory, PLUS 2 inch heels; darling do you really think I can escape getting noticed like it or not? And the woman at the restaurant counter took so freakin' long to serve me, that by the time I sat down to gulp through my snack; half the crowd began taking their seats inside the auditorium. And yes, if you must know; everybody was staring. AGAIN.

This time I was beyond caring. Let them stare I thought. Only I know the full potential of my tummy to strike up music at its own whim and will. And everybody has paid to hear Shreya, NOT me. I refuse to give my gastric juices ANY opportunity whatsoever to embarrass me. Silently, am trying to emotionally blackmail my tummy into behaving- as it is, my attire has let me down and so has my poor knowledge of Bengali. my heels and the lack of a familiar face. So, after licking my fingers (yes the chicken burrito was delish), I stumbled in the dark to find my seat.

 And by then, something else that would unravel me in full public view took place. They were showing Incredible India ads. First I thought 'what the hell are they showing these ads for? We're all Indians, and we all have family back there and we're all likely to visit India sometime soon. We don't need an ad to tell us how great our country is.'

And then, as I watched clip after clip of yummy food, a kathakali dancer, an ayurvedic massage, holi and a number of other heart wrenching shots; I completely broke down. Like I said, when you're abroad, anything Indian touches you in a way like no other. You're likely to take a ladoo for granted in India, but if you're offered one when you're living out of the country; you'll most likely kiss it and thank God for it and then sample it. And then also start talking about how you miss laddoos in India, even though that may not even be your favourite sweet. That's just how it is when you're living abroad. Sound weird, but it's a fact. We NRI's even talk about the dirty roads, the slums and all things Indian that we crib about at home with so much LOVE, that it will take your breath away and most likely knock you out. So as my eyes filled with tears at the thought of home and everything homely; I forgot to be self-conscious about where I was. Big Deal. You can add tears to my long list of tonight's other embarrassments. And I realised that you can take an Indian out of India, but never the India out of an Indian.

This post was supposed to be about Shreya and her talent. Well, she is so talented and the whole world knows that. I enjoyed the show, cooed, hooted and clapped harder than anybody else ( inherited Indianness traits!). But it felt wonderful and so patriotic for me that I could get  emotional about my country when I'm living in a supposedly ' more advanced'  place. So, this concert turned out to an eye opener in so many ways because it felt like my soul had been touched.. Incredible India ads, Bollywood music, Indian languages and Indians themselves.. what could have been a better way to celebrate Independence Day? Jai Hind!!