The Saturday evening was special. (I mean last Saturday. I’m fully aware that it’s been one week, but I should have some stupid thing to write, shouldn’t I?)
We were meeting Moideen.
Now you might be thinking who the hell Moideen is.
Moideen is the nickname that we (my college music troupe) had given to Iron Maiden.
(I’m sorry if non-mallus don’t understand this joke; can’t help it.)
Talk about a college which considers PJ as a religion and talk about people who live and play rock and metal in that college; the naming conventions don’t come as a surprise.
We had one “Ikka” too.. Metallica. ( 
)
Anyway, jokes apart, we went to the maiden concert of Iron Maiden (Or “the lass made of steel” 
) in India. The day was Saturday… last Saturday (Sigh! Still suffering from the hangover of a viewing Casino Royale yesterday!)
Whatever happened at the concert was as interesting as the concert itself! And it was another memorable day in my life.
Three of us had booked tickets together. KP had got his tickets booked by his colleagues. He doesn’t waste time for trifles like booking tickets. Think about this: He will go to his native place only if we take tickets for him and we drop him near the bus station.
Anyway, the three of us (me, Jaadu and Chekkoli) were planning to go in my car. The other two were supposed to arrive at my house. But it turned out to be one more. KP too came with them. I had a suspicion, that KP had just remembered that the concert was on Saturday when the other two were about to leave. (KP denies it outright, but judging by his nature, this is what might have happened.)
So it turned out that I hadn’t yet paid for my ticket, but had a sure entrance, and KP had paid for the ticket, but didn’t have a sure entrance. (How the hell would he find his colleagues in the human ocean? Only he knew.)
After driving my car at sub-zero speeds (You might be wondering, but it happens in Bangalore at peak traffic time), we finally reached Palace Grounds. KP part ways with us and went in search of his colleagues.
The horse he sweats with fear we break to run
The mighty roar of the Russian guns
We entered. Jaadu was a bit nervous about his hidden digicam. Anyway he managed to steal his digicam inside. They frisked, but didn’t find the camera. We were welcomed by the din inside. Lauren Harris (the daughter of Steve Harris) was performing. Iron Maiden was yet to start their performance. Lauren was pathetic to the point where we didn’t even listen to her.
We hurdle bodies that lay on the ground
And the Russians fire another round
We get so near yet so far away
We won’t live to fight another day.
It was time for doing a Trooper. We had to move forward through endless hurdles; hundreds of people who too were devising strategies of moving forward. We kept inching forward throughout the concert. All we could do was move 10 meters in 2 and a half hours. We got so near yet so far away.
The smell of acrid smoke and horses breath
As I plunge on into certain death.
People to the left of me were smoking. I hated the acrid smell. It was smelling odd. It might have been marijuana. I don’t know. I even hate the smell of cigarettes. This was awful. But I had to live with that bit of passive smoking 
There was this white guy near us. There was another boy gang nearby too. Looked like they were students. So this white guy asked all of us whether we drink whiskey. Several of them answered yes in unison. (I didn’t) Then he conjured a bottle of Imperial Blue Whiskey out of thin air (Not thin air, in fact. He had hidden it in his socks.)
It was finished in no time.
The Bugle sounds and the charge begins
But on this battlefield no one wins
Soon it started. Explosive is the word. I don’t find another way to address the atmosphere. They played all the local favorites, Fear of the dark, The Trooper, Number of the Beast. But I was too sad they didn’t play Waster Years and Clairvoyant. The sets were amazing. I’m not describing more because I don’t have words to describe them.
Fire on the hair
As we were pushing forward through the crowd, we reached behind another guy with huge locks of hair. I immediately named him “”Jataayu” because he had huge amounts of “Jata” (dreadlocks). As usual, we teamed up with some unknown Indians who were standing nearby and even conspired to set fire to his hair with a lighter.
You’ll take my life but I’ll take yours too
You’ll fire your musket but I’ll run you through
What’s it with girls in cars almost hitting me?
This has not happened once or twice. It has happened three times. A car almost hits me, and it will invariably be a pretty girl driving.
Is it that all pretty girls don’t know proper driving?
It was no different this time too as we were leaving. I was walking through the crowd of four wheelers (which were hurrying to the exit) towards my parked car, when my shin almost got flattened between two cars.
We get so close near enough to fight
When a Russian gets me in his sights
I met an old friend by surprise while leaving. He’s the only one guy I know of who would fly from Calcutta to Bangalore to see this show. That’s Vinu. (Don’t bother to visit the link. He only posts once a year.) He was the kind of guy who’d splurge. (On second thought, Pavanaayi beats him at that. What’s your opinion, Sanju?) We had a lot of time to chat, because the exit was jammed for about 30 minutes. After that, we part ways.
And as I lay there gazing at the sky
My body’s numb and my throat is dry
And as I lay forgotten and alone
Without a tear I draw my parting groan.
The first thing I noticed after I came back to the real world; I was dead thirsty. We went straight to Cafe Coffee Day. They were closing, but they got afraid when I flexed my muscles, and gave us whatever we ordered. Then I dropped Justin and Chekkoli, and went home. India was in a pathetic situation. I thought… It was a wise decision to go to the concert than watch cricket.
