Have I told you how much I adore music concerts? As a pianist, I love attending instrumental concerts sometimes accompanied by a singer. Being in the city of my dreams, music concerts is where the heart of Paris lies.
I went to a Tango concert that took place in the House of Algeria. I came across the poster by chance during my evening walk and decided to just walk in as it was just about time for it.
I entered the hall lit up by the paintings on the walls, the room was adorned by an elegant grand piano that I couldn’t fail to notice. I was surrounded by people of all ages, the very young to the very old. In fact, there was a cute grey couple sitting across from me who held hands throughout the concert. I wonder why oldies don’t express love in this manner back home.
Tango was performed by a quartet – A bassist, a guitarist, a person playing accordion and a singer glistening in the center. The woman sang her heart out with the instruments just enhancing her voice at the moments of wonder. The music just crawled up by spine, into my ears and gorged into my brain. It closed all the tabs running, melted away all my thoughts. All the fluid was evacuated and only the sounds reverberated in my head. After the first two songs, you could see me looking at the stage in the manner a drunkard look at his bottle or the moth looks at the light. Have you seen paintings of gopikas dancing around Krishna? Their eyes are always half closed, almost as if they are drunk in Krishna’s charm. I felt exactly the same way, despite not understanding a word of what the lady sang.
I sat there drunk in her voice for an hour and a half, with absolutely no thoughts in my head. I saw a couple get up and dance a few salsa steps in between. It was very blissful to be in that state.
I now understand the drunk-dancing in Paulo Coelho’s books, which I used to find absurd before. If someone had asked me to dance, I would actually have done it without giving it any thought because there was no room upstairs for me to think about it.