Anicca

For the ones who used to idolise Hannah Montana in their childhood or teenage years, this has been quite a week!

Miley Cyrus finally gave the fans of Hannah Montana (her Disney persona) an hour-long walk-down-the-memory-lane. If you’ve been a fan of Hannah before Miley, you would know that there was a time when Miley Cyrus was sick of the persona she was playing for years on Disney TV. She was so done with it that we thought, at least I thought, that we would never again get to see Hannah and Miley together in this lifetime.

For those of us who grew up watching the show, Miley was never a separate person from Hannah. Both were the same person, but living different lives. So, when the show ended with Miley taking a long leap to shed her Hannah-skin, we were heartbroken. And some of that has been addressed in the new song that came out with the Hannahversary (Younger You).

Although I stopped watching the show after two seasons, I remember that I used to love the idea of living a double life and having friends and family who see you through the thick and thin of it. Moreover, what I really used to love and still cannot get enough of is Miley’s music. Be it as Hannah or Miley, I’ve loved her songs and lyrics. I still go back to playing The Climb whenever I need to ‘keep the faith’ about certain things.

But hey, let’s dive into Hannahversary special and talk about the moments that stood out to me more than others, shall we?

Fake It Till You Make It

During this episode, Miley talks about how she was being asked about Hannah Montana anniversary at events she attended. Instead of denying anything, she kept people on toes by saying that she’s been thinking about it, working on it, and it’s totally happening. In reality, however, she was doing that so she could convince Disney that people really want a Hannah Montana anniversary.

This reminded me that even though she’s Miley Cyrus and basically the one who made Hannah Montana so popular with her charisma, she couldn’t just make this happen if she wanted to. It had to have the potential to have an audience to get a green light.

And yet, accepting and believing that a Hannahversary is already underway is what helped to bring it to life.

Bottom line, fake it till you make it, babe!

“You Really Taught Me To Be Who I Am”

On screen, Hannah Montana and Miley Stewart had a great relationship with her father. Later on, when I discovered that Miley is managed by her mother, Tish Cyrus, I had no difficulty in imagining an amicable relationship between this mother-daughter duo. I have no idea why.

So, when Tish and Miley enter the envy-inducing Hannah Montana closet, we finally start to see how involved Tish had been in that show and still is in Miley's life. Then there’s a moment when both of them are looking through a memory book. Miley admits how Tish had always made her express who she truly is, and that it was because of her mother she is who she is.

The hug that followed is what I’ve always known in my heart. It felt really good to see them have that moment.

Hannah’s Wig Change Through the Seasons

Okay, I remember why I quit watching the show. It was the wig. Definitely, the wig.

And it felt so good to know that Miley and Tish almost quit the show because of it. I wish they had tried to bring back the Season 1 & 2 wig. I never liked that wavy, shorter hair on Hannah Montana. Turns out, neither did Miley. Ha!

Miley & her Father Reading a Scene Together

I had no idea that Miley had a fallout with her father at the end of the show. Their bond on-screen seemed so genuine that anything else was a little shocking. But Billy Ray Cyrus did show up, and they read a part from a scene in the last season of the show. And well, it was the first time I was watching that scene. It was funny and I'm glad it stayed true to its comedic nature even in the last few episodes.

What was so weirdly genuine about them together in this special was that moment when they tried to do their odd handshake thing. It was an endearing moment as she tried but couldn’t remember half of it, but her father kept it going… it felt like she was a kid again. I don’t think it was just me who misses that version of Miley (or ourselves).

Unexpected Cameo by Selena Gomez

I have to admit that I might’ve gotten introduced to Selena Gomez through Hannah Montana. But the on-screen rivalry between Hannah and Mikayla was something that was just hilarious. In my head, all these queens are super friendly with each other.

But since Selena was never a big part of the show, I was not expecting her to appear. That part was like meeting your old friend and reminiscing about the good old times. I wish it was a bit longer, but then I wished the entire special was longer, really. Just the fact that they saw how their characters were so mean to each other and said sorry was so damn cute.

What else?

Well, I absolutely loved the performances. I have always loved the songs more than the show anyway. And I was thrilled to see Miley perform The Climb after ages. The Climb is one of my most favourite songs ever. The power of this song to keep me motivated through tough times is immense.

What I didn’t like about this special though, is how rushed everything felt. Plus, the moment when Miley was asked about Taylor Swift being in The Hannah Montana Movie, it just felt weird how there was an unnecessary attempt to turn it into a dramatic moment. Again, in my head, these queens are all about living their own lives and lifting each other up. So, when she mentioned "get your tea kettle out" or "Tish is standing with the lawyers" or "no shade", it just felt weird and so unnecessary.

But I was a little amazed by how performers assess where they're going to perform, even if it's in a freaking movie. And it seems totally normal and so amazing that they got Taylor to do that part in HM movie. 

We loved Taylor in that barn. I loved her more than I loved Miley there.

Yes, I love Hoedown Throedown, but Crazier was way too good.

Anyway, Miley did follow up that sticky moment with a praise for Taylor and the song she wrote for the ending of the movie. Her words? "Banger. She ate with that one."

Of course, she did.

What did you like about the Hannahversary?

Standing in a crowd, surrounded by thousands of strangers who all seemed far more prepared for this moment than I was. Waiting for Coldplay to walk on stage and give me an evening to remember forever - either as a high point experience wise or a moment I would remember as lesson to never overestimate myself. I remember thinking, briefly, that I could still leave. That I could turn this into another almost-story.

I didn’t leave.

Mumbai, the crowd, and the part of me that wanted to flee

The truth is, I wasn’t scared of missing out on the concert. I was extremely scared of experiencing it. The crowd. The noise. The lights. The sheer scale of it all. Every possible trigger for sensory overload packed neatly into one evening. This is usually the point where I tell myself I’m “not built for these things” and retreat into safer, quieter pleasures. Headphones. Controlled volume. Familiar rooms. Predictable exits.

I had trained for this for months. Even before Coldplay ever announced their India dates, I was convinced they would come and that I needed to be prepared for it. And when I say I trained for months, I actually trained myself for the sensory overload that a concert could be in the best way I knew how. I started by taking public transport again. First during low rush periods with headphones on. First, sitting at the back of the auto where you are forced to close quarters with strangers and sit touching each other. Then to public buses and metros where it was more than two people at a time. Then slowly moving onto rush hours - still with headphones on (same song on repeat to have something to ground me). And then slowly travelling in public transportation during rush hours without headphones for short journeys, that became longer and longer.

Most of you reading this, will probably be wondering that these are all everyday common things that people do on a daily basis. Why would I consider this as ‘training for a concert’. Well, I have always been hypersensitive to stimuli. Exposure to bright lights (or the sun) for an hour or so is enough to give me a freaking headache that won’t go away for the rest of the day. Same for loud noises or crowds. Putting all 3 together is a disaster for me. And my nervous system had been at it’s worst back in 2020-21. So, it had been a uphill task.

I kept waiting for my threshold to snap. For the lights to become too sharp, the bass too heavy, the crowd too close. I kept bracing for the moment when enjoyment would tip into overwhelm and I’d have to negotiate with myself to stay. That moment didn’t arrive the way I expected it to.

When Coldplay finally came on stage, the crowd went mad, and something in me did the opposite of panic. My brain, usually so eager to narrate every experience into submission, went quiet. The noise stopped being noise. It became atmosphere. The lights stopped being intrusive. They became part of the story unfolding around me.

That surprised me more than anything else that night.

Maybe it was the music. I didn’t stop being sensitive. I stopped being afraid of my sensitivity.

And for someone who has spent years managing input like a negotiation in old Delhi bazaar, that felt like a small miracle disguised as a concert.

In the crowd, I realized I already knew these songs with my body. A song from a phase when I was hopeful. Another from a phase when I was just trying to get through the day. A chorus that once meant comfort, now sounding like reassurance. People say that is art. For me, only music has a way of doing that.

When the first familiar notes hit, it wasn’t excitement that took over. It was a quiet feeling of ‘I am okay.’ That might be what surprised me most. Not the scale. Not the spectacle. But how safe it felt to be small inside something so large. To let the music carry the weight instead of me having to hold it all together. Trust that I wouldn’t lose myself if I let go just a little.

The moment it stopped being theoretical

I had prepared for everything I could name. The crowd. The lights. The noise. The exits. I had rehearsed coping strategies like a responsible adult who knows their limits. What I hadn’t prepared for was the way the music would arrive through my body.

I had standing tickets. Which meant there was no polite distance between me and the sound. No buffer. No chair to anchor myself to. When the beat dropped, I didn’t just hear it. I felt it. Under my feet first. A steady, physical vibration traveling up through the ground, through my legs, into my chest. 

That was the moment the fear loosened its grip. I feel that one feeling is still very impossible to intellectualize or express. 

The music wasn’t something happening to me. It was something happening with me. Around me. Beneath me. I wasn’t overstimulated. I felt connected to it. The same sensitivity I had been bracing against was suddenly doing something else entirely. It was receiving.

And then they performed Viva La Vida.

I don’t know how close I was to the stage in measurable terms. Close enough that I felt I could probably reach out and touch the band members. The song stopped being a memory and became a shared pulse. The crowd surged, the lights flared, and thousands of voices rose at once, singing about fallen kings and borrowed power and the strange humility of survival.

I didn’t think about meaning. I just stood there, vibrating along with the ground, letting the song exist without interpretation. There was something so grounding about that. Feeling small without feeling erased. Feeling part of something without having to perform belonging.

And for a first concert, that felt like enough.

After the Lights, After the Noise

The concert didn’t end the way stories like to end. There was no freeze-frame moment, no neat emotional crescendo that carried me home on a high. It ended the way real things end. Slowly. With people drifting away, voices hoarse, bodies tired, adrenaline leaking out in uneven waves.

Mumbai was still Mumbai when we stepped back into it. Traffic resumed its arguments. Vendors kept shouting. Life refused to pause to acknowledge that something extraordinary had just happened to me. I liked that. There was comfort in the normalcy of it. As if the city was saying, you felt something big, good for you, now come back and live.

What surprised me was how my body remembered the night long after the sound had faded. The vibration didn’t vanish immediately. Even a year later, I can still feel it in my heart and in my feet. 

I walked away knowing this wasn’t just about a band or a song or even a first concert checked off a list. It was proof that sometimes the thing you’re most afraid of teaches your nervous system a new language.