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Going solo with Diljit Dosanjh
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Going solo with Diljit Dosanjh

Due to a series of events that were not supposed to lead me to Diljit Dosanjh’s iconic Dil-Luminati show in Delhi, I went to the concert alone. The night of the show, my cousins ​​told me they had a spare ticket, but it wasn’t in the same pen as them. In fact, I would go to the concert alone. I hesitated a little – a concert as energetic as Diljit’s needs a group atmosphere – and I gave in. What was the worst that could happen? I would get bored and leave. So I swapped my heels for a pair of borrowed sneakers, hopped in the car and bid them farewell at gate number 14 of the Jawaharlal Nehru Stadium.

I found myself a seat and started waiting solo for the concert to start when suddenly a friendly girl called Kritika said “hello” to me and asked if I was alone. I nodded. She promised that she and her group of friends would stay with me all evening. I thought it was a fleeting, drunken joke, but they seemed like fun, so I went along.

Now, I’m a bit of an ambivert: I’m not too introverted to go through life without chatting with people, nor extroverted enough to strike up a conversation with a stranger. If Kritika hadn’t talked to me, I would never have invited myself into their group. I was hoping to spot some familiar faces and bump into friends, but instead I found myself happily dancing with a group of complete strangers (my knees still hurt!). Our group continued to grow, with more and more Diljit enthusiasts joining us and performing amazing performances. bhangra move.

Star concerts have such energy: it’s a huge dance party and everyone is invited. There were people cosplaying Diljit in his iconic black kurta and turban; many wore Diljit T-shirts. With Diljit, the energy is even more infectious as he brings Punjabi fervor to the stage. He opened with his slogan “Punjabi aa gaye apna desh oye” and continued to perform new songs such as Nainacrowd favorites like Lover And GOAT and his old hits like Laembadginiand Delhiites were in no mood to end the evening. It was the first time I had attended a concert of this scale by an Indian artist and it was electrifying.

At DIljit Dosanjh's concert in Delhi.

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At DIljit Dosanjh’s concert in Delhi. (Suneera Tandon)

For many like me – in our thirties and after Covid – we realized that life is fleeting. This created a desire to choose each experience and make it their own. It’s why we travel out of revenge and why more and more Indians are paying extra and traveling the distance (Coldplay queues, anyone?) to see comedy shows, concerts and performances. It feeds our curiosity, gives us something to look forward to, it’s a form of social currency. For someone like me, it’s simply about giving myself permission to enjoy things that were once out of reach.

This means that I am now more comfortable with traveling alone, making friends along the way, opening myself up to experiences that may seem outlandish, and taking the risk that they may lead to extraordinary results. It’s like meeting a 19-year-old Chinese student who came up to me in a bar in Baku last August after seeing me having a drink alone. Again, I wasn’t supposed to be there. The friend I was traveling with had decided to spend the night at 10 p.m., but I was curious about Baku’s nightlife.

It was Saturday, the best time to experience the local music scene in the Nizami neighborhood. I came across Rumors, a small club with a large window that offered glimpses of a glowing disco ball hanging from a neon ceiling and a female DJ. I went in, had a beer and tried to enjoy the music, feeling a little lost and alone.

It was then that the young man approached me, inviting me to join him and his friend Maureen. It turned out that they too were strangers, each exploring the city’s nightlife solo. They had met at the bar and talked. Over the next hour, we shared stories about our lives, past solo trips, upcoming trips, and tips on things to do around Baku. It was perfect and I realized that sometimes strangers really are the best company and your saviors, even if just for a brief moment. My embarrassment about standing in a corner and drinking a beer alone paid off, as did my desire to put aside my reluctance and socialize with complete strangers.

The writer with strangers who became friends in a bar in Baku, Azerbaijan.

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The writer with strangers who became friends in a bar in Baku, Azerbaijan. (Suneera Tandon)

This is a lesson I relearned at the concert in Delhi. Diljit himself was not scheduled to perform in Delhi on October 27. The original show was on October 26, but an additional performance was added on Sunday due to overwhelming fan demand. Technically, none of us were supposed to be there, but luck brought us together. As I walked among a sea of ​​people, all excited about the performance, it felt like a personal victory to go solo in a world that thinks we all need to be coupled and connected.