12th December, Friday.

Ahmedabad.

I was already traveling, already tired in a good way — that kind of tired where your body aches but your head feels alive. Late night. Phone vibrates.

Nayan.

No buildup. No drama.

Straight to the point.

Baxa Creative Agency wanted me to document the entire Seedhe Maut concert.

Backstage. Production. Main show. Everything.

Official photographer. Production team access.

There wasn’t a second thought.

No “let me think.” No hesitation.

I just said yes.

The show was on 14th December.

Two days.

And suddenly my entire trip had a heartbeat.

I reached the venue around noon.

And the scale hit me instantly.

The stage wasn’t just big — it was alive.

Lights being tested. Cables running like veins. Crew members moving with purpose.

What looked like chaos from outside was actually extreme discipline.

Everyone knew their role.

Everyone trusted the process.

Every minute detail mattered.

No shouting.

No confusion.

Just people doing what they’re best at.

And I was there —

camera in hand,

moving silently,

documenting people who were building something much larger than themselves.

I wasn’t shooting a concert yet.

I was shooting preparation.

The unseen hours.

The invisible effort.

Backstage felt like a parallel universe.

A place where the noise hadn’t started yet, but the tension was already thick.

Bhadrankar was there — opening act — calm, focused, in his zone.

Met Snappy Kal.

Rasla deep into production mode.

And then Dhanji.

Gujarati hip-hop, standing right there.

Not larger-than-life.

Just real.

Grounded.

Warm.

Short conversations.

Easy laughs.

That unspoken mutual respect that only exists when people know the grind.

By 6:30 PM, something shifted.

Everyone was visibly tired.

Sweaty. Dusty. Drained.

And yet —

the energy was unreal.

Baxa team.

Seedhe Maut team.

Same fire. Same madness.

Different roles, one mission.

You could feel it.

The show was ready to breathe.

6:45 PM.

Opening act begins.

Camera up.

Brain off.

Instincts on.

The crowd starts filling in.

Lights change mood.

Sound gets heavier.

There were many photographers around.

Different teams.

Different lenses.

Different perspectives.

But I told myself one thing, very clearly —

this opportunity is not slipping through my fingers.

I wasn’t here to compete.

I was here to deliver.

I was there to kill it.

Then the main Gs arrived.

Seedhe Maut.

And for the next 1 hour and 30 minutes,

they didn’t just perform —

they destroyed the stage.

Energy pouring out in waves.

Crowd screaming lyrics back like war chants.

Lights slicing through smoke like blades.

I won’t lie.

I didn’t enjoy the concert like the crowd did.

I couldn’t jump.

I couldn’t scream.

But what I saw through my viewfinder?

Insane.

Moments suspended in time.

Eyes closed mid-verse.

Hands in the air.

Sweat dripping.

Rage. Release. Control. Chaos.

Things you don’t see unless you’re working.

Unless you’re locked in.

While shooting, I kept noticing the invisible things.

How smooth the transitions were.

How perfectly timed everything felt.

How tight the production machine was.

This wasn’t luck.

This was hours of planning.

Execution at its finest.

Team Baxa and Seedhe Maut’s crew built something solid.

And it showed.

Somewhere between frames —

between switching lenses,

between wiping sweat off my face,

between checking my shots in dim light —

it hit me.

I’m part of this.

Not watching from the crowd.

Not attending as a fan.

Documenting.

Responsible for freezing this chaos into memory.

For turning sound into still frames.

For carrying this night forward.

Proud.

Grateful.

Still buzzing.

Cheers.

TBSM4L. 🖤📸🔥