a broken stage ( part 1 )

There were at least a thousand downstage. Not my biggest audience. Nowhere near the loudest. At best, it was an ignorant audience.

Just thinking about the fact that my classmates and friends of years were among the audience, somewhere in the back, made me smile. They knew I was going on the stage, so they would be listening. But that was all. To them, I was merely one of them. Sitting at the back of the class. Talking in whispers or texting or sleeping, anything but listening to the teachers up front. My grades were high among the lower half of the class. By all standards, I was an average student. My face was below average. My chubbiness wasn't very pleasing on the eyes. The little popularity I enjoyed was due to my gregariousness. To them, my taking the stage was acting on a silly whim.

As I went up, the audience continued with what they were doing. I was a leaf rustling in a gentle breeze in the middle of a forest. Absolutely insignificant. Until that moment, I had no idea what I was doing. Why did I agree to take up the stage for the school fest? Why did I agree to perform? What was I hoping to achieve?

Staring at the complete disinterest of the audience, I had my answer. It wasn't my idea. Going on to the stage. Performing. Miss Agnes was the one who insisted, who pushed me to a corner, who left me no way out but through acceptance. No one down there cared about what I sang. Not even Miss Agnes. She was somewhere far away, with her friends and the parents of her favourite students. I was a sideshow. The entertainment for those few moments in between conversations, so there was something to hear while they paused for breath.

Having made the decision, I was calm. It was a session of relaxation. The short and most uninspired performance wasn't five minutes long. No one noticed until I was gone from the stage.

Yeah. No one cared. That, was just the beginning.