Amazing Kids! Magazine

The Best Performance

By Muskan Vedi


Heads craned, and necks tilted as she vigorously pranced up the steps and into the spotlight.


Her voice rumbled across the red-shrouded four walls and penetrated everyone’s heart and soul. She was unlike any turnout. She was an unfettered plume, buoyant upon life’s zephyrs, fluttering along the breeze, heedless of her next destination.

She began with a mighty grin, scrutinizing the audience with her hollow, blue eyes.

“I’m Caroline. And, well…You all know why I am here, right?”

She stopped and giggled at her own little joke. The gathering crowd blankly gawked at her like little babies who hadn’t a clue of what was going on. Least perturbed by the callous audience, she continued.

“Yup! I’m a nominee for playing the role of director during the grand annual skit. I love acting and taking charge of such dramas. It’s my deepest passion. I hope I get selected, for which I need your support. So, put a thumbs-up for me!”

She vehemently waved her hands in the air, jumping up and down like a kangaroo and twirling as though performing a ballet, before earnestly bowing and showing the last glimpse of her white teeth.

The audience rose into a thundering ovation chummed by merry cheers and hails. Her address was neither too prodigious nor too imposing—yet she brought the house down!

She was just an ordinary girl with an extraordinary quirk. She retained something we had all long lost. A pleasure that could never be revived. The pleasure of being…human.

I mean precisely! We no longer had our own thoughts, our own ideas. Innovativeness and creativeness had practically abandoned us in a desert of nothing but rules and protocols. We had become more zombie than alive. If we were told to go one way, we’d follow without questioning. She was different, unique. Though it’s hard to confess, she was truly the only person who took heed of her own heart.

As all had envisaged, she was voted for the most. You could see it on her glowing face the next morn, not mentioning how briskly she spread the news.

Auditions for partaking in the play were conducted that very evening. Throngs of students from all grades crowded in the gym. Kids like Knyra and Robert, who despised acting, were willing to take part, too. In fact, they were amongst the first to arrive.

With the team selected, practice began. The squad consisted of diligent lads who worked their tails off to make the show a success. They arranged for the background, the lightings, the costumes, the photographers, the sound system—everything from ground to sky. They even took it a step further, enough work to turn milk to butter, persuading all to attend.

The day of the performance was looked upon with immense elation and glee. Kids to teachers, all clad in the best of their apparels, came in on time and settled in their seats. On the stroke of six, the lights plunged, and the curtains slowly unfurled. Silence blanketed all.

“Hello, everybody!”

Slight whistling and applause were heard from the back of the hall. Perking up the zest, the voice pursued.

“Welcome to the 52nd Grand Annual Skit! I see there is a large gathering this year, and I am bubbled up. Without much adieu, I say, let’s begin with our play on Romeo and Juliet from the commendable writer Shakespeare.”

The glaring lights dimmed again, and soon the pastiche commenced.

“Gregory, o’ my word, we’ll not carry coal.”

“No, for then we should be colliers.”

“I mean, an we be in choler, we’ll draw.”

“Ay, while you live, draw you neck out o’ the collar.”

It wasn’t long before I noticed that the crowd’s heed had drifted off to the other end of the room. Surprisingly, my eyes followed to a Stygian corner. Adjusting to the light, I tried to see what they were being amused by, and to my utmost astonishment, I saw Caroline, elegantly mounting the part of the troupers.

The adroitness in her enactment was remarkable. By the time the clock struck seven, most bystanders were gazing at her own little performance. So much that even the theatrical actors noticed. Their ardor seemed to abate as they inconspicuously tried to imitate Caroline’s actions.

So puerile yet ebullient, she was a youth nature created by hand. An ivory dove surpassing man’s sight. Dwelling in a world Utopian for all, though the air, water, and land were the same. Her bizarre occult enraptured both body and mind. She still remained herself while we all unknowingly changed.

The clock struck nine in the blink of an eye, and the show terminated. Stentorian cheers rattled every part of the room. The performers triumphantly bowed at their seemingly laudable performance, but it was us who knew for whom the revere was meant.

The hall started to clear out, and I glanced around, hoping to get a word with Caroline, congratulating her, and there she was on stage, waving her hands, capering and whirling around, for all one is worth.

Once the hall was isolated, she ardently bowed and projected a wide grin. I gave her a big hand. She deserved it.

In the midst of my appreciation, her brows slowly rose high, and her forehead puckered.

“Why didn’t you clap for the performers?” she innocently asked.

I turned and ran away. I had no answer. She knew! All the time, she had known!


  1. Disha /

    Well Done,Muskaan.
    Keep it up.

  2. Shalini Bhatt /

    Excellent work!!! I wanted the story to some how continue… & never end. Thoroughly enjoyed reading it.!! Muskan—an author in the making 🙂

  3. Ashok Dullu /

    Travelers, there is no path, paths are made by walking.”
    ― Antonio Machado