Form 3 had etched itself as a significant milestone in my Asrama journey, becoming the most memorable chapter thus far. As I reminisced about my time within the revered halls of Asrama, it became evident that Form 3 had represented the pinnacle of perfection in every conceivable aspect. A profound sense of joy filled me, and I cherished every moment of this year, brimming with new experiences.
Throughout this year, I underwent a profound transformation, surpassing the limits of self-improvement. Mastery over my emotions, intellect, and social interactions developed naturally. The rules and norms of Asrama no longer felt restrictive, and I found comfort in being true to myself.
However, I had not foreseen that this idyllic chapter was coming to an end. With just a few days remaining, the brilliance and liveliness of Form 3 started to fade. As the final school week approached, I began the task of packing my belongings, keeping only the essential items. While emptying my locker, I faced a grim realization—there was a possibility I might not return to Asrama the following year.
My clothing and reference books found their place in my travel trunk, while remnants of PMR-related materials, like trial exam papers, notebooks, and numerous notes, faced the fate of obsolescence. In a spontaneous act of generosity, I passed on my collection of original PMR questions papers to a junior student, an offering that had gained notoriety among the younger students.
My backpack, heavily laden as if carrying an elephant calf, concealed a collection of reference books meant for my younger sister, who would begin her secondary school journey the next year. The sound of my locker door closing echoed with finality, emphasizing the unchanging march of time.
As the year drew to a close, the time came for the Entrance Qualification Test for MRSM, an exam administered at my school, serving as one of the designated examination centres. I must admit I felt little enthusiasm for this test and had no idea how to prepare for it. Nevertheless, I faced the challenge calmly, bolstered by confidence in my strengths—Mathematics and Science.
On the day of the test, I encountered a set of questions that appeared more formidable than the standard PMR exam. Unperturbed, I navigated through them with ease, confident in my command of these two subjects. I was sure of securing admission to a prestigious MRSM school.
However, my fate was closely tied to my impending PMR results. Anxiety about the performance in certain subjects, especially Bahasa Melayu, loomed over my thoughts. The prospect of not achieving an A grade in this subject weighed heavily on me, akin to losing a cherished loved one.
Yet, the persistent question that troubled me was why I pursued the elusive 8A result with such fervour. Was it an effort to impress others? In truth, academic achievements were expected within Asrama. In our FELDA rural community, where academic success was celebrated as folklore for months, excelling as boarding school student was simply the norm. So, why did I relentlessly pursue this 8A standard?
During this time, I struggled under the weight of others' expectations, even within Asrama. The pressure to achieve 8As was a heavy burden, turning the title assigned to me into a daunting mantle. Constant anxiety gripped me, a looming presence, always concerned about the consequences of failing in these endeavours.
I was not alone in this solemn journey. Many of my friends experienced similar trials. The unrelenting anticipation and scrutiny took a toll, an ever-present preoccupation casting a shadow over my psyche.
A yearning grew within me—a strong desire to free myself from this oppressive burden. Achieving 8As seemed like the only way out of this cycle of anxiety. Failing to reach this standard was unthinkable, a harbinger of greater despair. Admission to the esteemed MRSM school was my ultimate goal, and it depended on achieving a set of outstanding grades.
As the year's end approached, Asrama organized a celebratory event for its students. While I was uncertain if this event had taken place in previous years, it resembled a farewell event for Form 3 students about to leave.
The celebration was a joyful occasion meant to showcase the students' talents in entertainment. The organizing committee mandated that each Form 3 class appoint a representative to participate.
Initially hesitant, my 3L1 classmates faced a dilemma over who would represent us. Given our reputation as a top-tier class, none of us wanted to jeopardize our standing. Eventually, I decided to take on the responsibility, driven by guilt and aware of another student's desire to participate.
In the eleventh hour, we formed a group of performers. Time constraints prevented us from putting together an elaborate performance, so we chose to stage a dikir barat, a traditional Malay choral performance. Uniquely, we set our chosen dikir to the melodious tune of a popular Hindi song from the movie "Badshah," a favourite that had captured our collective imagination despite our inability to understand its lyrics.
As rehearsals progressed, the appeal of the dikir barat concept began to resonate, turning our trepidation into laughter. Even those who initially tried to maintain a facade of toughness and indifference found themselves unravelling in the pursuit of this unique performance.
Ultimately, it didn't matter. Such opportunities were rare and irreplaceable, a chance to showcase our talents. Moreover, this celebration was meant for our enjoyment as much as it was for the audience's pleasure. I was particularly intrigued by the fact that not all of my classmates were aware of our class's involvement, adding an element of surprise to their thoughts and reactions.
The evening was filled with joy and laughter. Despite budget constraints, the event exceeded expectations, becoming an unforgettable spectacle. Each presentation had a touch of humour, eliciting laughter and delight from the audience. From skits and pantomimes to musical performances and extravagant costumes, the night offered a diverse array of acts.
As our turn to perform approached, I felt no embarrassment or nervousness. Instead, a sense of peaceful enjoyment enveloped me as we took the stage. The night was full of eccentricities, and we revelled in the spontaneity of the occasion. It was deeply satisfying to receive thunderous applause and laughter from the audience. Our impromptu effort turned into an unexpected success, and in retrospect, I wondered why I had hesitated to participate initially.
Interestingly, our class secured the second position, with the top honours going to 3L3, whose comedic sketch captivated the audience. The night was dominated by male students, but the prize we received, a piece of kain batik, was an unusual choice.
That night, unforgettable events unfolded, transcending imagination. It became a cherished memory, forever etched in my mind and destined to be remembered for years to come.
When I went on stage to receive the award for being Asrama's top Form 3 student in Mathematics, I felt a mix of surprise and anxiety. This award held profound significance in my Asrama journey, a triumph I had considered improbable.
For an Asrama resident to achieve the highest level of academic excellence was no small feat. I had always admired the academic achievements of my friends, who came from various regions across Johor. I vividly remembered the awards ceremony during my Form 1 year when the idea of being the best in Mathematics was still a distant dream.
I had always seen myself as a peripheral figure, someone of little significance within Asrama's history. The idea of reaching the pinnacle of academic success in this elite batch of Asrama had seemed like a far-fetched dream. But on this night, I had to reconsider my preconceptions.
I felt a deep sense of gratitude to Allah for granting me this unique opportunity. Finally, I had experienced the joy of being at the top of Asrama.
On the other hand, Maro was adorned with multiple prestigious distinctions, including Best in Science, Best Male Student, and perhaps, Overall Best. Such achievements were expected from Maro, and they didn't faze him. Excellence was the norm for him. In contrast, I remained in his shadow, a secondary contender. Nevertheless, I had stealth the title of Best in Mathematics from him, a recognition that satisfied my aspirations.
After the memorable gala, everything came to a close. The events and experiences of the year reached their conclusion. The vibrancy and unpredictability of my Form 3 journey had culminated.
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