Don't Remind Me

Chapter 13: The Concert

"After months of relentless dog-work, the community welfare society of IBSA can sit back and drink some well-earned Pakola! WHAT A FANTASTIC ANNUAL CONCERT! Atif may have been the star, but the real credit goes to all the organizers and volunteers, for managing to raise 5 Million Rupees for TCF Primary School! Here's to a tiny step towards the Second UN Millennium Development Goal (Those of you who don't know what it is, ought to re-evaluate your Economics grade!)..." Nitty Gritty-(Issue No: 770, Dec '14)

"Oh My God! What have they done to our football ground!" Syra squealed beside me. I grinned as the concert set-up caught my eyes. The open-air stage was huge! smoke machines, disco-light panels, and floodlights surrounded the metallic black-drop. Huge LCD screens were supposed to display a live feed, but were currently flashing through song-lineups and Atif Aslam's old concert shots. A DJ was fiddling with trance music as a pre-event filler.

We were early, as per Azaan's instructions. He wanted us to grab the best area first. I found him helping the security guys set up ticket check-points and stage fences. He waved us over to the left corner underneath the stage.

"You showed up! awesome!" He grinned at me. "This is your first concert right?"

I scratched the red bandanna securing my hair back. "Does backstage for Dave Matthews Band count?" I remembered this time a few years ago, during our UK trip to visit Maria, when Zaif snuck me with him. Naturally I panicked when I saw the crowd, and he had to sit backstage with me until Mama could pick me up. To his credit, my brother never uttered a single protest at my ruining half of his concert.

"No it doesn't count."

"Hmm. well, then, YES this is my first time!" I laughed nervously. I hope I'm dressed right for the thing. Maria hand-picked my ensemble, so it isn't my customary loose shirts, and track-pants. My delicate cream lace-shirt, is paired with distressed jeans, and a black leather jacket. The bandanna, and ankle-boots were also her idea. I mentally filed this entire look under, Motorbike-bipolar-princess-chic.

I miss my cashmere.

Azaan's phone started ringing, and he excused himself. Syra and I stayed together, as we waited for others to show up one by one. Syra introduced me to some of her Liberal Arts friends, and I realized how much I missed Pareeshae's comforting presence. The concert area slowly started filling up, and the DJ's mood shifted to techno, as the night darkened. The speakers were a dozen feet away from our spot, and I could feel the beat course through my entire body. It's weird, and there's probably a scientific explanation for the way that my heart seemed to be beating in time to the beats. It reminded me of another time. Our basement. My brother. A band. And drums....

"Guys, guys! I want you to meet someone!" Azaan's voice broke into Asadomer's debate about how stoned Atif was going to be tonight. He was grinning ear to ear, his arm slung around a slightly older, tall dude. The dude was on the skinny side, kind of dorky-looking adorable. They were followed by a cute-short girl with chin-length dark hair. She grinned at us and waved in greeting. She was barely an inch taller than me, even with her heels.

"This is my cousin Ali, and his wife Adiba!" Azaan gestured at the cute couple. "Ali graduated in 2010, from here. He is living proof, that IBSA doesn't completely suck your soul in four years..."

"Salam everyone! It's so weird meeting people who admit that this animal is their friend. I swear, Atif was just an excuse to see all of you." Ali joked, as he slapped Azaan's back. They engaged in a friendly punching match, as Adiba laughed with us.

"So, you're an Atif fan?" Syra asked Adiba.

"I. LOVE. ATIF!" She replied earnestly, as her husband rolled his eyes. "I swear, the second I saw Azaan's facebook post about this concert, I was like, 'Ali, you have got to take me there, or so help me I'll get arrested trying to gate-crash this thing!'..."