Hic Habitat Felicitas

It takes me 4 songs to cover the walk from home to office.
It takes 3 songs to finish the breakfast.
It takes 1 song to judge someone.
And it takes 13** songs to find one good song.  (**don't ask why - heavy analytics involved)

But this weekend every great song I came across weren't spaced by 13** songs in between them.
They weren't spaced at all.
They were actually overlapped across 6 different stages. And dipped in the 'good shit'. And faceted with colorful wigs and masks. And 'rhythm'ed with foot-taps, cheers and head-bangs.

It takes 0.2342** songs to make you happy.
I think I found a whole lot more.
Hic habitat felicitas (here lies happiness) - read the entrance of the Bacardi NH7 Weekender.
True.

The drizzly beginning of day 1 of the festival escalated to a full blown downpour following a 'Fuck the rain' remark by the 'Inner Sanctum' lead growler. No sooner than he made that remark, the clouds began growling louder than he could manage.

It rained harder. But people stayed back. (Maybe because the venue was 50 odd kilometers outside Bangalore, so there wasn't really any place nearby to wait the rain out).

Rains aside, the Lucky Ali show began as scheduled, and I pushed my way right upto the front line. It helps when you are wearing an 'anonymous - Guy Fawkes' mask. You can push people aside as you make your way and you somehow wouldn't feel the need to feel sorry. Or you could choose to sport a rainbow wig (like Shanky did). Nothing goes better with the Pink Floyd spectrum tee. (Trust me, I saw drunk chicks poking him, wild camera men chasing him, random dudes offering 'the good shit' and sometimes (forcibly) pulling him in their photo frames).

The only more colorful sight that the drenched to the bone people saw that night was that of the 'Manganiyar Seduction' performing. Each of the 40 windows that opened ushered in utter mystical delight. You have to see it for yourself to know any better.

The rains kept coming down through whatever remained of the night's program. Tessaract was cancelled. Cold and drenched, the remaining energy was used up in explaining the cab driver how to arrive where we were.

It didn't rain on the second day. Not even a drop.
Our ears didn't meet the sound of silence that day. Not even a second.
Parvaaz - Fender Bender - Dry The River - Papon and the East India Company - Raghu Dixit Project - Karsh Kale and guests, involving Benny Dayal (not to be confused with Danny Boyle - says Wikipedia about him) and a somewhat 'bhund' Papon.
Too much awesomeness. There isn't much I can tell about what it is like. You most probably know or you have never wanted to know.

For over six hours at a stretch, I was so contented, (contented, yet I wouldn't have minded more of 'Dry the River' or 'Parvaaz'),still so contented, standing in front of these performers, letting those giant sound waves hit me one after the other.

Happiness.
Add to it a fan t-shirt tossed into the crowd by Papon (it was his birthday) and caught by Shanky which he gave to me.

The 50 kilometer ride back wasn't any bother anymore. Nor were the days to come for a long time.
I guess I have as many songs as it would need**. (**heavy analytics involved)

*****                                            *****                                            *****

The NH7 Weekender.

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Rights to exaggeration and bragging reserved.
Its not how it happened; its how you remember it.
No characterisation intended.
Data and information may have been skewed to suit the storyline and images may have been photoshopped.
Everything is relative to your perspective.