Mess-allica!

Over the past decade, a transition in India’s music scene has led to a never seen before madness and fan following for international artists. We are as much in love with these ‘stars’ as the people of the west are. So much so, that any international gig is bound to grab more attention, attendance and money than any other desi Hindi or Punjabi singer’s concert. Unfortunately, though, for us Indians, these gigs don’t come by easy.

Sadly, internationally our reputation as a country still remains stereotyped as that of essentially a poultry market which forms a necessary frame for any movie shot in the Middle East—there are a couple of angry, abusive men in white kurtas, a couple of harassed women in black burkhas, a few hens fluttering dangerously dropping feathers here and there, and a general sense of congested chaos.

Inspite of the beautiful image we seem to enjoy abroad, when the heavy metal headbangers Metallica arrived in Delhi for their first ever concert in India, boy were they welcomed! People flew down from all across the country, paid abysmal amounts of money for that one prestigious ticket, and packed themselves like sardines into the venue a good four hours before the show was to begin. The venue was jam-packed. The excitement to evident that you could almost taste it. Only if the band could see it too.

But when dear hunks Metallica heard that one small barrier, (one WHOLE barrier?) had been brought down because of a little pushing that ensued in a 25,000 people crowd, fear hit. Organisers DNA too announced the sheer irreparability of that little gamechanger barrier. It was obvious now, (wasn’t it?), that Metallica would soon be joined on stage by the aforementioned abusive men, demented women and of course, the hens. Mistaking the black Metallica t-shirts clad mass for a burkha clad mob, the band called off the concert citing security issues.

In a manner almost insulting to the giant crowd that waited reverently outside for them, Metallica chose to return back from off stage, not even caring to grace its fans’ love with a little explanation, a small personal apology. In a show of sheer disappointment and heartbreak, many desperate fans broke down crying. A few more enraged ones vented out their anger on the equipment. People felt cheated and wronged. It all ended too badly.

Would it have been the same had Metallica felt it fit to at least come up and face the crowd once? Even if it was just to tell them that the concert couldn’t happen? What led to the cancellation anyway? Were they expecting that one broken barrier would let loose a heavy membered frenzied crowd on them, ripping apart their clothes and instruments, and possibly them too? Are we really THAT uncivilised? I think not.

For someone who’s waited for years, the four hour pre-concert wait at the venue hardly mattered. What mattered ultimately was being let down by someone they’d dearly loved.

Sometimes when you reach the top, you tend to forget that you’re up there because there’s someone down below who’s been supporting you all through. When Metallica made that immature, unfounded decision, they forgot that they were up there because the fans showed up for them down there. They failed to understand how much it mattered to that Indian Metallica who had waited for this day for years.

They didn’t just lose fans that day—they lost respect.