Born in the wrong era

I have realised something about concerts. Before your first one, you genuinely think people are overreacting. Like okay calm down, it is just music no? Why are people crying over a man standing on stage with a guitar? Why are people saying “live music changes lives” as if they returned from war with a new perspective on humanity?

And then one day the lights go off.

The crowd starts screaming before the artist has even stepped on stage. Your heart starts racing for absolutely no logical reason. The first guitar note hits your chest instead of your ears. And suddenly you understand. Entirely. Completely. Horrifyingly.

Because live music DOES change lives.

I have been listening to rock music consciously for over 5 years now. Before that, it was just something Dad listened to. Something always playing during drives or lazy Sundays or random evenings at home. Bryan Adams, Guns N' Roses, Def Leppard and all the classics were always around me before I even properly understood music. I think that is the beautiful thing about rock music honestly. Nobody sits you down and forces it onto you. It just quietly enters your life and one day you realise it has become part of your personality.

I still remember in 2024 when Bryan Adams announced his India tour. Bangalore, Shillong, Gurugram and Mumbai. The SECOND I saw it, I ran to Dad and said, “hell or high water, WE ARE GOING.” Before this, he had come to Ahmedabad in 2018 and we could not go because we lived in Surat at the time. That one still hurt me a little. So this time in my head it was non-negotiable.

Then honestly, I forgot about it because parents say “haan dekhenge” all the time and life moves on. But one random day after school, Dad showed me the booking confirmation. Mum, Dad and me. Bryan Adams. Gurugram. Delhi winters.

I genuinely cannot explain the excitement I felt. I waited for that concert like a child waits for summer vacations. Every few days I would randomly remember it and get excited all over again. Then finally we reached Delhi. Cold winter air, jackets, puffs of smoke out the mouth, thousands of people standing around equally excited, that pre-concert electricity in the air that is impossible to explain unless you have experienced it yourself.

And then he walked onto stage.

OH MY GOD.

I still cannot explain that feeling properly even today. Excitement, happiness, nostalgia, emotional teary feeling, adrenaline, disbelief, all of it at once. He started singing songs I had literally grown up listening to. Songs that had existed in the background of my childhood suddenly became REAL. Loud. Alive. Right in front of me.

To me, that meant everything.

He played for around two hours and somehow it still felt too short. I remember standing there thinking please do not end, please one more song, just one more. And when it finished, all three of us were on an absolute high. Dad because he had been listening to Bryan for ages, Mum because she got into Bryan because of Dad, and me because I had just seen Bryan fucking Adams live at the age of fucking 15.

That concert genuinely changed something in me.

His music sounded different after that night. Bigger somehow. More emotional. More alive. And that is the thing nobody explains properly about live music. Songs stop becoming just songs after concerts. They become memories. You hear them later and suddenly you are transported back to that exact moment. The cold air. The lights. The screaming crowd. The feeling in your chest. Everything comes rushing back.

Then the following year, Guns N' Roses announced India and OH LORD.

I genuinely lost my mind. 17th of May. Mumbai. My first proper ROCK concert. Absolute madness from start to finish.

Mahalaxmi Racecourse, sweaty weather, people screaming, mud everywhere, rainwater everywhere, complete chaos. By the end of it our feet were soaked in some horrifying mixture of rainwater, mud and horseshit to the point we literally had to throw our socks away afterwards.

Worth it. Entirely worth it.

I saw Slash live. I saw Axl Rose live. I saw Duff McKagan live. Even typing that feels insane to me because Dad practically raised me on Guns. Those songs were part of my childhood before I even knew what rock music properly was.

And hearing them LIVE? Different experience altogether.

The second Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door played, tears. The second Don’t Cry played, tears again. Which is honestly ironic considering the names, but anyway. There is something about thousands of people singing the same lyrics together that genuinely does something to your brain chemistry, completely silenced mine for the entire concert. I was so obsessed with how knockin on heaven's door begins, I had it as my ringtone for 1.5 years. IT STILL GIVES ME GOOSEBUMPS. 

By the end of it, neck jammed, voice gone, body dead, soul healed.

That concert changed Guns for me forever, too. Now whenever I hear those songs, I do not just hear them. I remember them. I remember the lights, the crowd, Dad screaming lyrics beside me, the energy, the feeling of looking around and thinking “OH MY GOD I AM ACTUALLY HERE.”

And honestly, that is what rock music does best. It stays with you. It attaches itself to memories and moments and people. Rock music does not just play in the background. It becomes part of your life. I love it when I can turn some people onto rock music, truly, I feel accomplished. 

After Guns, Dad and I constantly kept discussing hypothetical concerts.

“What if Bon Jovi comes?”

“What if Scorpions comes?”

“What if Metallica comes?”

“What if AC/DC comes?”

“What if Def Leppard comes?”

And then somehow, unbelievably, Def Leppard announced India.

I still remember that morning so clearly. Dad had gone out somewhere and when he came back, I shoved my phone into his face and both of us just stared at each other going, “HEIN?!”

Literal goosebumps. Because somehow WE PREDICTED IT. And obviously my immediate reaction was, “DAD JAANA TOH PADEGA.” 28th March 2026. Jio World Gardens, Mumbai.

This time we went ALL OUT. Printed T-shirts, bandanas, morning flight in, last flight out, full rockstar energy.

And OH MY GOD what a concert.

I started Def Leppard with Pour Some Sugar On Me as a six-year-old, completely unaware of what it actually meant. I wasn't too happy about singing it as a child, when I learnt of its meaning as a teen. Then came Two Steps Behind, instant love. However, whatever said and done my favourites are, Bringin’ on the Heartbreak and When Love and Hate Collide. But my favourite moment of the entire concert was when Joe Elliott brought out the acoustic guitar and started playing Two Steps Behind even though it was not even on the setlist.

The SECOND he started playing it, tears brimming.

Again.

I genuinely do not know why live music does that to me but it just does.

And then there was this really funny moment during the concert. There was a group of uncles and aunties standing in front of us and I was discussing songs with Dad when one uncle suddenly turned around and asked, “how do you know what he’s gonna play next?”

And I proudly went, “I have the setlist.”

That man looked SO impressed.

Then he asked, “You know lyrics to every song, don’t you?”

And I said, “Not every song, but almost.”

Then the aunties asked my age. I said 16.

The LOOK on their faces.

Absolutely priceless.

I cannot lie, there was a tiny little baddie feeling inside me because they were genuinely shocked that someone my age even knew Def Leppard properly. But honestly, that moment stayed with me for another reason too.

Rock music feels inherited.

It feels passed down.

It is fathers introducing their children to bands they grew up listening to. It is old songs surviving generations because they were THAT good. It is teenagers screaming lyrics to songs older than themselves. It is music surviving trends because it actually means something.

And then came the heartbreak.

Scorpions announced India.

JUST LIKE WE PREDICTED.

When I found out through Instagram in January, I genuinely did two victory laps around my room. Heart racing, eyes teary, full insanity. Dad was away at the time, and I spammed him with at least 15 messages just saying “OH MY GOD” repeatedly like a clinically insane person.

30th April 2026. Jio World Gardens.

We got the T-shirts. The bands. Started replaying songs again. Relearning lyrics. Counting days.

And then the next morning, the entire India tour got cancelled.

Thap.

Gone.

I still genuinely feel sad about it. The bands are still with me. The pouch too. I wear that T-shirt practically every other day now because that concert almost happened. And honestly, sometimes almost hurts more.

But if there is one thing all these concerts taught me, it is this:

Rock music is alive.

Very alive.

Not when thousands of people still scream every lyric. Not when guitar solos still give people goosebumps. Not when strangers become friends for three hours because they all love the same band. Not when a 16-year-old girl can stand in a crowd full of people twice her age and know every word.

Live music changes songs forever. Once you hear them live, they never sound the same again. Suddenly there is memory attached to them. Emotion attached to them. A feeling attached to them.

And honestly? I think that is why I love rock music so much.

Because it feels real.

Nothing polished. Nothing fake. Nothing manufactured for trends. Just loud guitars, messy hair, strangers screaming lyrics together, people crying over songs older than them, and music powerful enough to survive generations. There is so much meaning, so much emotion in this genre.

And maybe that is why I will always love it. Mine is probably the last generation to see these guys live, and I am so glad I have been able to. 

Because rock music never just sounds like music.

It feels like life. Without music, world would be so boring. 

As ever, 

Ambika