At the Coldplay concert, everyone around me was falling in love. I was getting over my first heartbreak

Photographed by Shahzad Bhiwandiwala

I took a deep breath and began dressing for the concert. A colour-blocked shirt, stacks of charm bracelets and my embellished Speedcats were ready for what the day would bring. Among a sea of screaming fans, the show started. The lights glowed giddily as Martin belted out one song after another and rainbow-hued confetti filled the air. All around me, couples snogged their way through “candid” selfies and leaned onto each other till their shoulders got tired. In another universe, I, too, wasn’t attending this alone. R was with me, holding my hand. Blow-up planets the size of houses floated over us, and when Angel Moon, the fictional alien character featured on the tracks ‘Cry Cry Cry’ and ‘Biutyful’, told us to put on our Moongoggles, I suddenly realised how much Coldplay’s music meant to me. I barely recorded the spectacle, lost in a reverie of what-ifs. With every track, I healed from a wound I didn’t know was still open. I made a mental note to call R once the show was over.