For someone like me who has never been to a concert before in her entire life, attending Atif Aslam's concert felt like a feast for the senses. When a friend of mine asked without a trace of forewarning, "Will you go to Atif Aslam's concert? I'm buying the tickets because they will sell out soon," and without a pause, I replied, "Count me in for a ticket too," as I couldn't let my once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to witness childhood nostalgia slip away like that.

Fast forward to the time when I reached the venue, Bangladesh Army Stadium, it was almost 5:15pm, and there was still a sea of people waiting in the queue to get inside. The lines seemed endless, breathing mass of anticipation, frustration, and sweat. 

When the crowd couldn't control itself, the army decided to show up at the very last moment. When we finally got in around 7:05pm, my firsthand experience was a mob coming toward me at full speed as they broke through the barricades. I could hear the people in charge saying, "Don't we have a bat to beat them off?" without actually doing anything. 

To add to the audacity, the police started assaulting audience members at the entrance with valid tickets without acknowledging what was happening in that situation. Although, the police later managed to identify the breakers, beat them, and throw them out of the stadium. 

However, despite all the hassles, was Atif worth it? True to form, the artiste sang with a passion that made each note hit home. This time, his concert kicked off with a style that only he could pull off.

On the big screen, an opening video played where he boldly claimed, "My song has its own kind of creativity," set to a tune we all recognised. And when he says it's creative, you just nod along, because somehow, he makes it feel like it actually is. 

Donning a grey hoodie that read "trust the process, success takes hard work," we all know for sure how he lived up to this phrase throughout the concert. While the audience was worn out, his energy never waned. 

When he sang classics like "Tera Hone Laga Hoon" from the film "Ajab Prem Ki Ghazab Kahani," I could clearly time travel 11 years back to 2014, where I would listen to this song on my MP3 player or perhaps download it on my computer. Here I am today, witnessing the music of the very man right before my eyes, that too, in a crowd where I could truly relate to every lyric.

The proverbial 'magical moment' happened when he performed "Dil Diyan Gallan." Just like in the music video where Katrina walked down the stairs, and charms showered around her. You wouldn't believe me when I say the atmosphere was recreated to match the video exactly. Atif belted out the song, and those confetti from the music video fell upon the audience. 

Last night, Atif was in full-on qawwali mode, performing "Tajdar-e-Haram" and "Kun Faya Kun." The Bangladeshi organisers, however, were clearly inspired by "Kuch Is Tarah" (just like this) when it came to mismanagement and power cuts. Atif, ever the professional, seemed to pray through his songs, as if saying, "No more mishaps, please." But who are we to complain? When the big man himself said, "Keep your spirits high, power cuts are just part of the concert experience."

Even his smallest gestures during the concert were a treat for the eyes. While performing my all-time favourite, "Aaoge Jab Tum Saajna," Atif made a heart sign at the lyric, and in that moment, every struggle; the long wait, numb feet, and suffocation felt entirely worthwhile. 

But honestly, the whole concert experience was not as rosy as I made it sound. If I were to speak from the perspective of an audience, Bangladesh isn't an ideal place to host concerts, especially for international artistes like Atif Aslam. 

The crowd size is simply too large for the available space. Because I, as a front zone audience member, couldn't even see Atif perform live and had to rely on the screen, I might as well have just opted for YouTube for that kind of experience.

The concert was divided into three sections; magical, front, and general zones. However, if you managed to buy a ticket worth Tk.10,000 in the magical zone, consider yourself lucky, because in reality, there was no such thing as general or front zones. Just a chaotic crowd with poor management.

Setting my emotions apart from Atif, the night wasn't complete without another Pakistani artiste, Abdul Hannan, who poured his heart out in singing hits like "Iraaday" that definitely set the bar for romance. 

To top it off, our very own Kaaktaal and Tahsan gave their full efforts to make this night a memorable one for us, the audience.

I didn't realise it until I got home, but writing this feels like speaking for every other Atifian who carries him as a core memory of their childhood. This man represents our childhood; he made our first heartbreaks somewhat easier through his tracks and accompanied us during those nights before falling asleep. And even a decade ago, our headphones were well-acquainted with his voice and tunes.

So, when I ask again, was it worth the hassle? I would say, for a first-time experience, I wouldn't have missed the chance to relive that childhood nostalgia. When such an opportunity presented itself, how could I ever let it pass? But in the future, I'm definitely not setting myself up for this kind of experience again.