After the powerful performance that had the whole auditorium on fire, Nishanth joined me backstage, still slightly out of breath, sweat glistening on his forehead, and that unmistakable post-performance high on his face.
I handed him a small towel and said, "Now, hurry, go change and come back. You're glowing like a disco ball."
Nishanth grinned, "Can't I just stay in this costume? I mean, come on… It's cool. Folk style. The crowd loved it."
I gave him a look. "I don't want the kuthu lungi look next to me. This is our first official project. I want a traditional dhoti look. Classic. Clean. Professional."
He groaned dramatically. "Okay, okay, Miss 'Auspicious Start'."
But he didn't argue beyond that. A few minutes later, he returned in a crisp red shirt and a neatly folded white dhoti. His hair was a little damp but combed back, and he had that familiar Nishanth smirk as if to say, Happy now?
And I was.
With my red half-saree and his red shirt-dhoti combo, we looked like we had coordinated on purpose. Like a proper team. Even Computer Sir looked at us and smiled, shaking his head slightly. "Magazine editors or chief guests?" he asked jokingly.
I laughed, but left Nishanth there to assist Sir with the pictures. I had my own task—I moved to the side of the backstage, where I had clipped a few sheets of paper and a pen to note down quick observations and one-liners for each performance. These would be the soul of the article I'd later write—authentic moments, things only someone backstage could witness.
After a few more lively dance performances, there was a piano solo by a senior boy—melancholic yet powerful. Then came a string of singing acts—one group, one solo. There was even a girl from Class 8 who recited the periodic table from start to finish—in under a minute. The crowd clapped in disbelief. Even the teachers exchanged surprised glances.
But then it was time.
My girls were up.
Prerna, Pavani, Sree Lekha, and Mahathi were huddled together, their excitement laced with nerves. When they reached backstage, they rushed to me, eyes wide and searching for reassurance.
I didn't say much.
I simply pulled them all into a tight hug.
"You've got this," I whispered. "Just remember the music. Forget the crowd. You're going to shine."
They smiled, nodding. And then they stepped out.
From backstage, I watched.
Their colorful costumes shimmered under the stage lights. For a second, they hesitated, just a flicker, standing in their starting position. But once the song began, something shifted. Their faces lit up. The hesitation melted. Their steps hit the beat exactly right, their arms moving like poetry. They weren't just performing—they were living the dance.
The crowd cheered louder with every turn, every beat drop.
I scribbled down a single line for the article:"From trembling feet to dancing queens—the moment they owned the spotlight."
And I meant it.
They didn't just perform.They belonged on that stage.
Once the performance ended, the girls bowed to the audience, breathless and beaming. The whole auditorium erupted into cheers. Their nervousness had vanished, replaced with radiant smiles and the kind of joy that only comes after a successful performance. They came skipping off stage with their costumes fluttering behind them like victory flags.
I wanted to pull them all into a huge hug and celebrate with them properly, but I couldn't. They were supposed to go back and sit in their assigned seats.
Pavani caught my arm for a moment and whispered, "Can't you tell us the surprise now?"
I shook my head with a small smile. "Not yet. Wait for me."
They groaned in unison but started moving towards their seats obediently. I gave them one last proud look before turning back to check if Computer Sir needed help.
But then, out of nowhere, a senior sister tapped on my shoulder.
"Hey, the Principal is calling you."
"Me?" I asked, confused.
She nodded. "Yes, hurry up. You're the only girl in a red half-saree. It's easy to spot you."
My heart skipped. Why is the Principal calling me?Did I do something wrong? Did someone complain about the notes I was taking?
I turned back quickly, caught Nishanth's attention across the backstage area, and gestured with my hand that I was stepping out. He replied with a thumbs up and a dramatic hand-on-heart pose, mouthing "I'll take care."
I smiled and turned to follow the senior.
The Principal and Vice Principal were seated in the front row, near the edge, with a view of both the stage and the students. I approached them slowly, my notebook still in hand.
"Ma'am," I said respectfully.
The Principal looked at me calmly. "Show me that notebook."
I handed it over nervously. My pages were full of scribbled performance notes, thoughts, one-liners, titles, and review points—nothing suspicious, but it probably looked strange for a student to be documenting so much during a cultural event.
Before she could say more, I decided to speak up.
"Ma'am, can you give me an appointment with you, please? I want to explain what this is about, but I need more time—and I need my team with me."
"Team?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.
"Yes, Ma'am. It's me, Nishanth—my classmate—and a staff member. It's not official yet, but we've been working on something. We wanted to present it properly."
"You can't explain it now?" she asked, sounding genuinely curious.
"We've actually prepared a presentation, Ma'am. It's still halfway done. I think if I try to explain now, it might sound confusing. But when we present it together, with proper visuals, I promise it'll make sense."
She looked intrigued. "Why would it be difficult to understand?"
"It's not difficult, Ma'am," I said quickly, "but you might not believe that such a small team is capable of this project—or that it's even possible—without seeing what we've done."
At that point, the Vice Principal, who had been listening silently beside her, raised her eyebrows in amusement. She clearly hadn't expected that response. But she didn't interrupt.
The Principal leaned slightly back in her chair, thinking for a second.
"Alright," she said at last. "Monday. 3:30 to 4:00?"
"Ma'am… would it be possible to extend it by half an hour? Just in case we need more time to explain. And…" I paused. "If possible, can Vice Principal Ma'am also attend? She's already heard part of it…"
The Vice Principal looked at the Principal, half-surprised, half-impressed. The Principal turned toward her.
"Will you be available?"
She nodded once. "Let's hear what they're up to."
"Granted," the Principal said. "Monday, 3:30 to 4:30. Both of us will be there. You may come with your team."
"Thank you so much, Ma'am," I said, the excitement bubbling inside me.
I gave them a respectful nod and practically floated back toward the backstage. My feet were barely touching the floor.
The second I spotted Nishanth, I ran to him, notebook still clutched to my chest. He and Computer Sir were arranging a camera angle near the wing, but they turned when they saw my face.
"What happened?" Nishanth asked, already sensing something big.
I grinned. "She said yes."
"Who?" he asked, confused.
"The Principal. Monday. 3:30 to 4:30. Both she and Vice Principal Ma'am are giving us time to present the magazine."
Computer Sir gave me a surprised look. "That's great, Nila. And gutsy."
Nishanth blinked. "Wait. You got us an official slot? Just like that?"
"It wasn't easy," I said. "But I told her the truth. That we need to show, not just tell."
He gave me a low whistle and extended his hand. "Now that's what I call a mic drop moment."
I high-fived him, heart pounding with excitement. Our project was no longer just a dream. We were about to make it real.