By: Svara Carmel Narasiah

As a child, the notion of performing onstage had always seemed glamorous but inevitably unattainable. I watched videos of young actors stepping into the shoes of their characters and bringing them to life, whipped up in saturated stage lights and costumes that sparkled. I studied their facial expressions, how they took lines off of paper and spun them into spoken words dripping with irreplicable uniqueness. I admired their talent, but never once expected that I would someday experience what they had.

Auditioning, rehearsing and performing for Mont’Kiara International School’s rendition of Aladdin Jr. was one of the most memorable yet painstaking journeys I have gone through. I will never forget the pre-audition anxiety; the long, wearisome hours spent running through lines after school; the giddiness at seeing my costume brought to life from its sketch. It was an ordeal that prompted tears and laughs alike from its cast and crew, but I believe that in the end we achieved what we’d been aiming for all along: to bring Agrabah, its palaces and people to life. 

This did not come easy. As a cast member myself (I played Jafar, the play’s heinous villain), I can confidently say that the hours spent rehearsing after school were meticulous and stressful. Working together as a cast–not simply in terms of acting, but in overall cooperation in regards to keeping the costume room tidy, staying quiet backstage and ensuring a positive rehearsal environment–proved numerous times to be difficult. This was especially true in the first couple months of rehearsals. It felt as if the performance date was eons away. Lines were scantily learnt, backstage was brimming with loud whispers, and it was challenging to get into the overall headspace of performing as a character. Uniforms were still prevalent onstage, props were nonexistent or temporary dupes, and lighting cues were not yet programmed.

This period of rehearsals stretched long and weary–up until November, when things finally clicked: we had to perform. We had to learn our lines now. We had to get into costume now. If we didn’t, the entire performance would be at stake. And as a member of the main cast with plenty of lines and blocking to memorize (plus with a mountain of homework to complete as a result of simultaneously being an IB Diploma Programme student), I was terrified.  

This anxiety was prevalent in not just cast members, but also–and likely even more so–the crew. Aladdin’s crew consisted of over 50 wonderful, hardworking individuals. The sheer hours of work that they have sacrificed in order to ensure that Aladdin ended up as vibrantly magical as it did will forever astound me, and on behalf of all those who participated in and watched Aladdin, I give them my gratitude: thank you to Faith, Mr Roshan and Sogo in the booth, who spent tireless hours programming light cues (this especially brought our play to life; I cannot imagine how bland our performance would have looked without its vibrant reds and evil greens). Thank you to Campbell and her costume crew, who measured every cast member, scoured online shops and fabricated the gorgeous costumes of the main cast members (namely the costumes of Jasmine, Aladdin, Sultan, Genie and Jafar). Thank you to the three teachers–Mr. Simon Norton, Ms. Gin Tan and Mr. Kenny Shim –who directed the show and guided us towards utilizing our individual talents as performers in order to make it endlessly, uniquely special. 

This was my last show. And after having played several roles in several plays, I can confidently say that Aladdin Jr. was my best one–both in terms of my own performance and the impact that it had on me. Yes, it was grueling. Yes, there were challenges and, at times, I felt like giving up. But during the last curtain call of our last performance, with the roar of the crowd flooding my ears as I gave my last bow, every single bit of effort I’d put in was completely and utterly worth it.