With much more than just a hint of pride, my eighth grader had informed her teachers and friends at the very beginning of the week that she would not be attending school that Saturday. Arijit Singh was to perform bang opposite her house. Under no circumstances could she miss the opportunity of letting her entire school know how fortunate she was.
A girl who never misses school agreed to this decision of ours that it was prudent to be absent that day as there would be traffic restrictions and road blocks on her way home, at 3pm. So it was better to study at home all day so that she could enjoy the concert at night. No, we had not purchased the terribly expensive tickets, the cheapest of which cost no less than Rs 2,500 initially and then follwing the rules of dynamic pricing rose to Rs 3,500 with a rise in demand.
Our seats would be free –– on the terrace.
Frenetic arrangements were on at full swing, and not just at the venue. Furious deliberations were on over the night's menu in almost every Sanjeeva Town house facing Aquatica. A few generous souls declared their cellars open to add zing to the rooftop parties. Invites were sent out to friends and neighbours whose houses were nestled deep inside the complex, and hence away from Aquatica.
In course of the week, we were informed that car passes would be issued to the residents of the Sanjeeva Town Bungalow Estate by the KLC police station. Residents could stick these onto their vehicles to move in and out of the complex on Saturday. That is when in hit us how lavish the security bandobast would be! The residents' WhatsApp group was soon flooded with messages, with each sender clamouring for multiple passes for the Audis, BMWs, Skodas, Range Rovers and Mercedes parked in their stable.
Final countdown
Since Friday afternoon, sound arrangements and music equipments were being tested and readied at Aquatica. Hello, check, check, check… Our mobile apps caught the noise level to be exceeding the permissible limit of 55 dB. Glasspanes were trembling as was the door of the roof. Harassed residents made angry calls to the West Bengal Pollution Control Board. Surely Aquatica was no Brigade Parade Ground that they would need to blast our eardrums off!
On the day of the concert, the discussions got off the WhatsApp groups and resumed in person. Gopal, our car wash guy, wondered aloud whether such expensive tickets had got sold. "Eto daam diye ke kinbe?" Poltuda, our neighbour's driver, countered: "Even the Rs 75,000 tickets have got sold out, tui ki jaanish?" Achintya, our security guard, observed: “Have you heard, they have sanitised the entire 4 km area around Aquatica!” Dilip Syam, my enthusiastic senior neighbour, hurried back after a recce of the locality to announce: “Dekhe elam, 18 talla (Greenfield Heights) obdhi police barricade kore diyechhe.” The excitement was palpable.
The hooter of the police vehicles around 6.15pm announced Arijit's arrival. As we heard the crowd inside erupt in a jubilant roar, my daughter tossed her physics book aside and rushed up the stairs to the terrace.
And following in the daughter’s footsteps, the two pet dogs darted off to the second-floor terrace. Behind them, the obese mother wobbled up the stairs, panting for breath, to catch a glimpse of the star with whom she shares her birthday.
There was no missing Arijit's voice as he belted out one hit song after another. The sound waves carried Eto aloy bhora akash, Sei raate raat chhilo purnima, Tum jo ho, Agar tum saath ho, Kesariya (my daughter's current favourite), Ek ladki ko dekha, Ki kore toke bolbo, Mon majhi re, Bhebe dekhechho ki straight from the Aquatica stage to our terrace seats. Not just the sound, the laser lights and the pyrotechnics too were all visible and many of us got busy capturing the sights on our mobile phones, precariously leaning over the railing to get the right angles. The daughter had perched herself higher than the rest of us –– on the third-floor terrace alongside the two water tanks, accessed only by Sushanto the plumber on his routine maintenance visits. This, she claimed, offered her a better view of –– and eye contact with –– Arijit Singh and she firmly believed that he had waved back when she had waved!
The laser lights created a myriad patterns as they danced on the outer walls of our houses. We swayed in wild abandon, both in enjoyment and to dodge the relentless attacks of the swarm of MIG 29-like mosquitoes. The dogs voraciously devoured all the bougainvillea flowers and leaves as they tried to understand what this frenzy was all about that even their dinner time had been long forgotten.
Like all good things which eventually come to an end, the concert wrapped up around 10.20pm, as the drum beats reached a crescendo causing our hair to rise in fear of the impending shattering of glasspanes, often crossing 80 and 85 dB on our mobile apps. Thankfully they withstood.
Yes, we thoroughly enjoyed Arijit Singh's One Night Only show. The experience was priceless, in every sense of the term. Eco Park’s loss was Aquatica’s and our gain.
But I write all this with a dash of guilt. The high decibel was definitely cause of great discomfort to the elderly, the sick and the pets. Even the students appearing for their Board exams must have been majorly disturbed.
I feel, the artistes themselves can play a vital role in controlling the sound pollution at mega events by ensuring that the organisers conform to the norms.
Rajoshi Gupta is a resident of Sanjeeva Town, The Bungalow Estate, New Town.
Write to saltlake@abp.in