Since it has now been confirmed that both this week and next will be veritable Hells, I am going to steal this time to talk about my weekend.
Which included an A. R. Rahman concert!!!!! (insert many more exclamation points) I was genuinely excited about this, and it turned out almost as good as I could’ve hoped. We (Gsj, R, Gsj’s room mate and me) drove down to Houston in R’s car. On the way there I barely noticed the three-four hour drive, what with the conversation: spanning music (of course; and now Gsj and I have decided that while we agree broadly on music (ARR is great, The Killers are good) we can’t agree on the specifics (for some unfathomable reason he doesn’t really like Delhi 6)), cars and their relative merits (on second thought, I think this might be when I fell asleep), and politics.
Gsj: No, listen, communist states are the ones generally doing well in India! Look at Kerala!
R: West Bengal, bitch! …Uh, sorry, got carried away there for a second.
As usual, most of the audience was operating on IST, but the concert itself started slightly after 8.30 and the seats began filling up soon after. There were so many good moments, which I’m going to be writing about for the magazine, but eventually we were left with a sort of dissatisfaction (and R was pretty much bored out of his skull at one point, I think. Rahman mixed Pappu Can’t Dance with Black or White, and R turned to me and asked me what album that was from. Fail!) Not because we’re perpetually hard to please – that’s Rahman’s fault, for setting such high standards for himself – but because the more than 40 songs didn’t really do justice to the breadth of Rahman’s talents. There were too many from just a few movies, not enough from lesser known but more beautiful ones… and where were his female singers? Those he had were better at
moving their hips than their lips (haha see what I did there) dancing than singing.
In the end we all trooped back to Abc’s place – 5 of us in one huge room – to spend the night, and dissected the entire concert, playing some of our favourite pieces that hadn’t appeared and analysing our disappointment. By the time we were done, it was 4 am. Good times.
Also, my mum hadn’t know about my weekend plans, and after she realised where I was, she called me:
Mum: Where are you staying?
Me: With Abc! You know him.
Mum: Oh yeah! Say hi to “Thunda” for me! But are there any other girls there?
Me: … no?
Mum: … oh. Be careful, ok?
Me: What? Careful with whom? Some of them are my best guy friends!
I know, it’s awful the way the United States has accustomed me to the presence of the males of the species.
Then I spent the whole of Saturday doing absolutely nothing, which, of course, turned out to be a huge mistake. I see a number of all-nighters and a large(r) quantity of coffee on the horizon.
The next two days are career fair days, where I turn up with hopeful aspirations every single semester and then get gently told that the Awesome Company I want to work with does not take in international undergraduate students. It’s a good thing I’m used to disappointment.