One of their biggest fans. The wait was long, the heat nudged 38°, the humidity topped 75%, no breeze to cool. The battle of the bands at Dilli Haat, New Delhi was promised and promised to be only minutes away, again and again, by the, more than, grumpy host, the audience waxed and waned but mostly melted. The surly young lady, hosting the stage, stepped up to the microphone again, perhaps it was about to begin…’Ladies and Gentlemen, Uncles and Aunties please…’ What? Please put your hands together? Please welcome our first band? No. Though she used the respectful term to address her elders, uncles and aunties, she rudely told them to hold on to their children, they ignored her, not deterred she insisted, ‘I’ve asked you once already, please keep a hold of your children’. They were bored by this point, what did she expect, for the children to be sitting patiently? Two minutes later, the host was back on stage and this time to call up the first band, they leapt on stage, only to stand idle while a technical problem was briefly sorted. When they began, not the rock music, nor bhangra beats they looked like making but a serene and haunting song, millennia in tradition, wafted from the singer interspersed by the insistent tabla drums, sharp but pitch floating. Beautiful and ethereal, timeless and soulful, the song ended, but not a single applause, just the rattling of the many whirring propellers. Their biggest fans.