In Form 4, there was a phase that we informally called the "Honeymoon year." It was a time when students were supposedly in a carefree period of youthful joy, untouched by the looming academic challenges.
For me, this honeymoon phase didn't really exist, or I didn't pay much attention to it. I didn't indulge in the leisure and relaxation typically associated with such a period. Instead, I threw myself into various extracurricular activities, particularly the nasheed group, which was closely connected to the Asrama community.
Among the Asrama residents, a tradition had developed of forming a nasheed ensemble. All it took was selecting a vocalist and a group to serve as the chorus. This created a nasheed group that, despite occasional discordant notes, was considered quite reputable.
Despite the lack of perfect harmony and the occasional dissonance in our singing, I found satisfaction in being part of this nasheed group. Through our melodious performances, I formed deeper bonds with my peers.
It's not that I hadn't interacted with them before, but this environment allowed me to broaden my social circle. Previously, my interactions were limited to a select few, but now, I had the chance to connect with more people.
I recall the initial gathering of Form 4 Asrama students to create a nasheed group, although I can't remember the specific occasion. What's important is that it was related to a significant Islamic event organized by the school.
I don't remember the details of the song we sang that day or how the audience reacted – those memories seem to be lost. My main goal at the time was to finish our nasheed performance quickly because being on stage for an extended period was beyond my comfort zone.
After that event, our nasheed group gained recognition among the teachers and students. As a result, the school asked us to perform at the Annual School Award Presentation Day, which was held at the end of the first semester.
To our surprise, we weren't asked to perform nasheed songs but to present a choral performance, which was a departure from our usual nasheed repertoire. What made it more intriguing was that a professional trainer was provided to improve our singing skills.
This marked my first experience of being coached by an experienced vocal teacher. Our practice sessions were quirky because we often didn't follow the trainer's instructions exactly. Instead, we ventured into melodic experimentation, with each voice having its unique interpretation. Despite this, we managed to sing, albeit not always in perfect harmony.
The actual ceremony was a grand celebration honouring student who had excelled academically and in extracurricular activities throughout the previous year, with a focus on those who performed well in the PMR examinations.
I was still at the same school, but many of my accomplished friends had moved on to more prestigious schools. Others had taken different paths, but fate had kept me in the same place.
The day of the ceremony was full of excitement after weeks of intense preparation. I looked forward to receiving recognition for my academic achievements. While my life hadn't undergone significant changes, I felt grateful for the blessings that had allowed me to reach this significant moment.
Unfortunately, on this important day, I was plagued by a persistent cough that made my throat feel sore and uncomfortable. Each cough brought up phlegm and added to my discomfort. However, I couldn't bear to abandon my fellow performers, so I soldiered on.
Considering my poor health, I stood silently during our performance, merely mouthing the lyrics without making a sound. Thankfully, the coughing fits didn't disrupt the performance.
Our performance received reviews of being adequate rather than outstanding, as judged by the professional pianist who supervised our vocal presentation. However, my involvement in this musical endeavour was not one of extreme seriousness; it was a light-hearted dance with the rhythm of life. Once it was over, it became a part of our history.
After the ceremony, our nasheed/choir group became more popular. The school no longer had to struggle to assemble a nasheed group; we were consistently chosen as the school's nasheed ambassadors.
We were selected to represent our school in a nasheed competition organized by the Johor Bahru City Council, which was to be held at Plaza Kotaraya Johor Bahru. Nasheed had become quite popular nationwide, so our participation in the competition was almost a given.
We had numerous rehearsals, not limited to the Asrama but also within the school's academic walls. Our chosen song was "Fatamorgana" by Hijjaz, a beloved chart-topping piece that had captured the hearts of many.
Memorizing the lyrics was not a challenge, but rendering the composition in perfect harmony without tonal errors or rhythmic irregularities was the real challenge.
On the day of the competition, we traveled to the venue in the Asrama bus. It was my first time performing in front of a large and unfamiliar audience, unlike the sanctuary of our school where we were used to performing. Despite our practice, I felt embarrassed and nervous, especially because I worried that our performance might not match the virtuosity of professionals.
We couldn't claim to be professional nasheed artists; our ensemble was formed out of our proximity within the Asrama. Only a few of us had truly melodious voices like Iman, while the rest struggled to maintain a sonorous tone.
To add to our unease, the judges for the competition were none other than Hijjaz themselves. This situation filled me with anxiety and a sense of vulnerability. As our performance unfolded, I felt a deep discomfort that stayed with me long after the final note.
To be honest, I can't remember what happened after our performance. It's like a cloud of forgetfulness has obscured those moments. Unfortunately, I can't provide a clear account of our fate or what happened afterward.
Following the competition, my enthusiasm for nasheed significantly declined. It became clear that my vocal range, and that of some of my friends, didn't quite fit within the realm of music.
I made the decision to abstain from participating when the nasheed ensemble was invited to perform at Plaza Angsana. I even convinced Min to join me in this break, leaving only a few Form 4 students from our school's Asrama.
I didn't feel remorseful about leaving the nasheed group. I believed it was more honest to step back rather than participate half-heartedly. Additionally, the demanding practice schedule and differing views among group members created discordant notes within me. So, the freedom to step away was a welcomed relief, and the nasheed group continued to thrive without my presence, fulfilling its mission with greater cohesion.
Admittedly, my ego had started to grow during this time, affecting my decisions. Assertiveness took over, leading me to follow my own path instead of seeking consensus. As adolescence influenced my thoughts, my ego expanded accordingly, introducing personal viewpoints and preferences that often diverged from those of my peers.
These evolving perspectives led me into introspection, solidifying my beliefs and fostering a stubborn tendency towards contrarianism. These elements combined to signal a shift in my approach to life, foreshadowing an inevitable change in my life's trajectory. Life is a constantly changing journey, and I had to navigate its ever-shifting tapestry with unwavering determination.
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