(From top) Performers during the finale of the concert; dancing fountains in front of the Wembley Arena; Himesh Reshammiya in performance. Picture by Sudeshna

Himesh Reshammiya showed his first jhalak right at the point of entry to London, courtesy a lady of Indian origin at the immigration counter of Heathrow airport. “He is criticised so much in your country. Why have you bothered to come all this way to hear him?” she wondered.

The question lingered as one took the coach to the hotel with a British RJ playing what he called “a strange song” (Aap kaa surroor) on request on the breakfast show of Sunrise Radio, the subcontinental community’s address on the air wave.

The hotel being right next to the Wembley Stadium, the bartender was spoilt, having tuned into UB40 and Bon Jovi live. But his Indian assistant wouldn’t mind offering a drink for an Aap Kaa Surroor concert ticket.

The organisers had a spring in their steps all morning. While most of the tickets had been snapped up online, the queue at the counter also wore a lengthy look. A Punjabi couple had bought two £50 tickets and was arguing for the free entry of their three-year-old. “He eats his meals only if we put on a Himesh DVD,” they pleaded. “Let’s hear if he can sing us one,” the exasperated official challenged. To his surprise, the child lisped back: “Talak tikla da”. He saved his parents 50 quid.

There was more than a nip in the air in the afternoon. It was October 29 and winter had officially set in, despite a sharp morning sun. A few hours before dusk, the star of the show had blazed in, straight after a night’s concert at Bangalore.

Trademark cap and deadpan look in place, Himesh Reshammiya had addressed reporters and then rolled off to the Wembley Arena in a stretch limousine.

Though dwarfed by the iconic arch of Wembley Stadium under renovation next door, the Arena has played host to Cliff Richard, Madonna, Prince, Christina Aguilera... It has recently undergone a £35 million renovation. The newly built piazza facing the dancing fountains was bubbling with anticipation of a night of song and dance.

From Upendra Bhandari, a student from Woolwich with a £50 ticket, to Firoze, a driver bringing family over from Edgewire at £25 per head, to Judy Kay, a self-confessed “big weirdo” who had dragged her husband from London to hear Hindi songs booking £75 seats, Himesh fans ranged across the socio-economic spectrum.

No wonder the bearded singer in a black long coat would stress so much on his “one-to-one connection” with the audience, cocking a snook at critics who tried to come in between.

The singer known for his nasal notes started off with a medley of songs, but the real thing had to wait till after the announcement of a film on his “real luv story”. “Agar meri love story main ne aap logo ke saath share nahin ki toh meri zindagi adhuri reh jayegi (If I don’t share my love story with you, my life will remain incomplete).”

As the giant screen beamed his reel aspirations, someone threw a black cap at him. Himesh happily picked it up, to add to the scores in his wardrobe. “I will reveal what lies under the cap in the film,” he promised.

The silence that greeted the announcement of the singer-composer’s big-screen tryst was unnerving, even for “India’s first rockstar” — yes, that is what his publicity machinery had crowned the high-octave performer.

“Mujhe lag raha hai aaplog khush nahin hain (I feel you are not happy with the news),” Himesh mused, before shouting out loud: “Please bless me London”.

They did when he was back, singing. Before that, Sa Re Ga Ma Pa Challenge 2005 participants Himani, Vineet, Debojit, Paresh (a local lad from Brent who made up with accent what he lacked in rhythm), Indian Idol Abhijeet Sawant and Calcutta girl Ujjaini had come and gone. Mahek Chawl and troupe had flashed some flesh to some lusty beats.

But it was Himesh the crowd longed for. Which is why even humour got a thumbs down when a stand-up comedian tried to fill in the blank between Aashiq banaya aapne and Mohabbat ki gujarish.

A near stampede ensued when Himesh, playing up to his young fans, asked for 10 kids to come on stage. But Wembley was not Wankhede and rules, in Her Majesty’s land, were rules. So the security guards intervened, making Himesh plead, “Ek bachcha to de do bhaiya”… But the baby that was finally plonked on stage promptly let out a long wail.

But nothing could slow Himesh down. Playing to the galleries — where tempers flared when fans were not allowed to do the Bhangra full blast — he belted out one hit after the other with rare energy. And when he upped the tempo for Jhalak dikhla ja, there was a Kodak moment of sub-continental unity on English soil —Nasima and Sumar from Pakistan and Dee from Bangladesh, all flocking from Luton, dancing in the aisles to the Mumbai melody man’s beats.

As the cars cruised back home crowding Empire Way, the music systems blasted more of Himesh… Next stage stop for the capped crooner? Glasgow, the next night.