The gentle rays of the early morning sun seeped through the window, bringing into focus the

dark outline of the cardboard box that lay on the mahogany table. I strode over, opened it and rummaged through the paraphernalia I had brought with me from the old family house. A huge wooden frame rested somewhere between the carefully wrapped objects. I drew it out and gazed intently at the picture. It was a photo of a memorable performance I took part in last year. Immediately, a vignette of my colourful childhood surged through my mind, a significant moment that brings tears to my eyes even now, when the episode unfolds in my minds eye. I was thirteen and had been selected to participate for my schools annual thirtieth talent show. Our choir was to sing Pleading Child from Schumanns scenes from childhood. It was a simple moody piece that sounded more difficult than it was. I was supposed to memorize the whole thing, singing the repeat parts twice to make the piece sound longer. The star of the show however was Jia Ming. She was the best among us and was the schools choir pride. She had a beautiful voice, one which was as melodious and sweet as that of a nightingale. Whenever, she sang, those around her would fall silent, listening entranced as the golden notes soared from her mouth. We were not so good good at singing as compared to her. This was not my first time performing. Many years ago, I had taken part in a singing talent show but had disgraced myself. I was about to sing when somehow my mind drew a blank. I lost the tune and finally forgot the notes. The giggles, the weak applause, the snide remarks and the humiliation remain engraved on my mind. This time I intended to redeem myself. I practiced and rehearsed many hours daily til my throat became hoarse and dry like sandpaper. When the day of the performance dawned, I was tensed and anxious. Feelings of doubt seeped in again and again. I wondered whether I should perform in this talent show at all. That day, we had to be at the school hall hours before the event. As I walked into the backstage, my coach darted towards me. A strange desperation was apparent in his eyes. Faith, I have bad news. Jia Ming is not going to be here in the lead. Apparently, she ate many durians and therefore, lost her voice. You have to do it. Please dont let me down now, not at this last minute he pleaded, his voice quivering with apprehension and worry. My coachs words whirled round my head, shaking my equilibrium. This has come so unexpectedly. My first instinct was to refuse. I did not feel I was up to stepping to Jia Mings shoes. I contemplated the moment a few moments and finally decided to take up the challenge. At the backstage, I was swept by a wave of nervousness. My hands turned clammy and a chill started at the top of my head and began to trickle down. My throat felt dry like sandpaper. I had to keep taking sips of water. In addition, I had not forgotten about my failed singing performance. As the time drew near for my turn, I could feel the thumping of my heart against my ribcage. Finally the moment arrived. I walked to the stage with halting steps. The sight of the audience terrified me and I told myself to calm down. In desperation, I whispered a silent prayer and hoped for the best. The music blasted from the radio and I started to sing. I remembered to maintain eye contact with my audience and I projected my voice at the back of the hall. It was beautiful. I was so caught up on how I looked at first I didnt worry on how I sound. So it was quite a surprise to me when I sang the

first wrong note and I realised something didnt sound quite right. Somehow, my mind drew a blank. A chill started at the top of my head and began to trickle down. I fumbled noticeable as the music came on, lost the tune and finally forgot the lyrics. Yet I could not stop singing, as though my mouth was bewitched.I kept thinking my mouth would adjust itself and switch back to the right track after some time. I continued this song, singing through two repeats, the sour notes staying with me all the way to the end. The rest of the choir stood silent behind me and I could feel their shame scorching on my back. I felt shattered. When I stood up, I discovered my legs were shaking. Maybe I had just been nervous and the audience had seen me go through the right motions and had not heard anything wrong at all. I swept my right foot out, went down on my knee, looked up and smiled. The audience was quiet and there was a long moment of silence. I saw my mothers stricken expression which was what devastated me. She had a quiet blank look that said she had lost everything. I felt the same way, and it seemed as if everybody was now coming up, like gawkers at the scene of the accident, to see what parts were actually missing. The audience clapped weakly, and as I walked to the backstage with a heavy heart. My whole face quivered as I tried not to cry. Their giggles, snide remarks and weak applause humiliated me. It was only then that I realized how many people were in the audience, the whole world it seemed. I was aware of the eyes burning into my back. I felt the shame of my mother and father as they sat stiffly throughout the rest of the show. Even now, the memory still causes a surge of disappointment and misery in me. In my next performance, I hope I will do well and not let history repeats itself. I will try harder next time and finally understood that if one work diligently and with dedication, he will be rewarded abundantly.