Waiting for Sonu Nigam: A Story of Impatient Indians at Concerts

I had written sometime earlier about impatient Indians (and those keen to broaden their horizons can read about it here, or for that matter here again). I’m no different. For example, I hate waiting for …

• That download that vrooms from 1% to 99% in five seconds and then goes to sleep.
• Those artsy movies that make one ponder the futility of life, to end. (The Wife loves them. And generally, given four or five stars by critics. By The Wife too. My advice – avoid them like the plague.)
• Amitabh Bachchan to stop telling us that “RBI kehta hai…”. Or for the three oldish guys, to stop telling us “bolo zubaan kesri”. It is possible of course that my ire is caused by them, despite being the same age as me, being more suave, having more hair, having flatter abs and being richer by a ratio of 1:856.

Off to a Concert

But my impatience really peaks when fun things that I have paid for, take their own sweet time in being fun. Like concerts. A few days back, the very talented Sonu Nigam had a concert at Hyderabad. The Wife and self, plus close friends (let’s just call them, for the sake of anonymity, the PVSs) decided to go for it. The tickets stated that the concert would start at 1900 hrs and spectators were advised to reach there at least an hour in advance due reasons of security, parking, etc. I, naturally, insisted that we reach there by 1700 hrs. There were some murmurs of dissent from The Wife, and some raising of eyebrows by PVS, but I with my iron will, enforced agreement.

We (self plus The Wife) reached the venue by 1700 hrs and parked as directed by the somewhat lost staff. I was reasonably pleased at having reached on time. Only to realise to my consternation, that the somewhat lost staff had us park three km from the actual venue. Damn. Fearing we might get late, we started legging it – me with determination on my face, and The Wife with sullenness that comes naturally to one who, expecting diamond studs as an anniversary present, gets instead a pair of magenta coloured potato peelers.

Reached the venue a bit sweaty and called PVS. To my utter disbelief (because we are talking about PVS here), he told me that they were already at the venue. Comedy movies in such situations would show the two protagonists standing back-to-back a metre apart, and going through the ‘we are here, where are you…..WE are here where are YOU’ rigmarole till their bums collide. Causes much laughter in the audience too. We did the same, except that there was no laughter. And our bums couldn’t collide because they were three km apart: for like us, PVS too had alighted at the parking lot. And at the moment I had called him, he was in the midst of extolling, somewhat unsuccessfully, the virtues of a brisk walk to Mrs PVS. Apparently, she too was exhibiting the same sullenness that females of the species are prone to when the prospect of a longish walk in pointy heels, comes up.  

Notwithstanding, overcoming all such teething difficulties, the four of us managed to affect rendezvous and found ourselves seated by 1800 hrs. Relieved, we got down to waiting for what we assumed would be an hour or so. Ha!

We Impatient Indians, Unlike Indians, arrive way too early

Most such concerts have some fillers/secondary acts to keep the audience engaged till the arrival of the main artist. This concert had, well, none of that. What we did have was a MC, who with enthusiasm that could be described as grating, and energy levels that were exhausting, kept asking us, “ARE YOU READY…. ARE YOU READY TO ROCK….. ARE YOU READY HYDERABAD… ARE YOU READY FOR SONUJI!” The crowd as expected responded with that strange roar one hears on such occasions, a mix of “YEEAAH and WHOOO!!” The loudest shouts of course came from the VIP enclosures comprising attendees who, not having had to walk three km (or shelling out Rs 3500/- per head), were exuberance personified. The free refreshments they were enjoying helped too, I guess.

The Impatience of Impatient Indians Mounts

Ultimately, the clock showed 1855 hrs and we, childishly, thought Sonuji’s appearance onstage was imminent.  The MC thought so too. “Sonuji is about to make an appearance” she gushed, and asked us again to give one final rousing cheer. We looked at the stage and saw her, looking pretty pleased with our fervour. What we didn’t see was Sonuji. The MC repeated the same thing 27 times between 1901 hrs to 1945 hrs. And each time (though one could sense her own conviction had started heading South), she exhorted us to cheer.

Concerts nowadays also have those irritatingly enthusiastic volunteers who roam amongst the audience and enthusiastically ask random attendees, camera virtually up their nostrils, random questions. Sometimes they ask these attendees to sing an odd song too. Unfortunately for the volunteer (and more so for us), he did find one such wannabe singer, who launched into a less than enthralling rendition of a particularly boring song. It was apparent to everybody other than the singer, that the chasm between his aspirations and his capabilities was wide; for he recited the song as would a child, ‘Twinkle twinkle’. This (understandably) dimmed the volunteer’s enthusiasm a bit, and he tried to encourage the attendee to cut short his rendition. Regrettably, the wannabe was by now in full flow and he forged through two more morale sapping ‘antaras’. Visibly deflated, the volunteer gave up and handed us over back to the MC thereafter. Most of the other impatient Indians at the concert were in any case getting ready to throw shoes at him.

Sonuji meanwhile, continued acting like a shy bride, because insofar as a glimpse of his face was concerned, we got none. And then you know crowds. They comprise humans. Humans get weary. The volume of the ‘Yeeaah/whooo’ was tapering off and the cheer had by 1945 hrs, morphed into a mild whimper. (The VIP free loaders of course were still going strong.) The MC, her diminishing conviction having finally reached South Pole, gave up (thankfully) and played some recorded music.

The blame game starts

The four of us, not vastly different from other impatient Indians in our mental makeup, were getting agitated, and our conversation was largely centred around, “What the hell……” PVS even tried to let a suggestion hang in the air that us coming at 1700 hrs was not a particularly bright idea. Mrs PVS fortunately, being a lady of reserve, said nothing; but her general air was that of a hostess at a gathering of the uppermost crust of society, contemplating the best way to suggest that I was bonkers. The Wife on the other hand, shorn of such lady like reserve, had the air of someone wanting to say, “You are an idiot”. So, “You are an idiot”, she said.

Finding that if I wanted support I would need to look elsewhere, I looked at my neighbour, a youth of 23 odd years who was sitting with his girlfriend, (both with looks of pleasant expectation) and asked him, “Wasn’t this supposed to start at 1900 hrs?” He looked at me as one would at a dumb child and explained, “Uncle, first time, eh? Just add 90 minutes to the promulgated time. It is always so.” And sure enough, at 2030 hrs (two and a half hours after our being seated, but exactly as predicted by the youth) the MC, suddenly getting her mojo back, went into a paroxysm and out stepped Sonuji. The Wife too let out an almighty YEEAAH/WHOOO giving the three of us quite a start. The concert started.

And what a concert it was! Even the very impatient Indian me, once I was able to overcome my agitation, loved it. Sonuji I found, is an exceptional performer. I wouldn’t go so far as to say that the 150 min wait was worth it, but the fact that PVS had to use all his persuasion skills to prevent Mrs PVS (without any modicum of reserve now) from standing on the wobbly chairs to whoop, was indication enough that the performance gave satisfaction. So much so that the three km walk back on completion was a pleasant affair, sullenness free.

PS – Other funny posts on the impatience of Indians can be read below:-

Air India Chaos and Comedy – A Hilarious Tale about Flying Home

Indian Society Humour. What Personifies Indians Most? – Laughter is Life