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Raja Sen in New Delhi |
February 08, 2005 16:18 IST
We'll remember Sting [Images], when the west wind moves
Upon the fields of Delhi [Images]� The long queues snaked outside the gates more than three hours before they were scheduled to open. This is, after all, Delhi, a city alien to most concert schedules, and its music lovers were not going to pass up the man Rolling Stone calls arguably the greatest rocker alive.
The crowds were atypical for a rock concert: most of the demographic leaned towards people in their forties, esoterically clad in technicolour ponchos and florid kaftans. Flower children, hung over from a period long gone, when The Police came along and shattered eardrums and sensibilities with lyrical condescension and fabulous disdain. They nostalgically jostled in line with the young bloods, stubbled youths who memorised the words from Shape of my heart. The excitement, as the spoilsport raindrops that threatened to mar the concert vanished right on cue, was palpable.