Monash Cultural Night, MUISS’s flagship event, was held on 12th October 2025, the night many international students had been anticipating all year, unfolding in the TSR Conference Hall bathed in blue. Not the calming, meditative blue of a wellness app no one opens after Week 3, but a curated, cinematic shade that made shadows linger and corners feel unexpectedly alive. The photobooth, unsurprisingly, was packed, leaving some students without a single commemorative photo, though it hardly mattered. The lively buzz of the hall made MCN feel like its own little universe, a Schrödinger’s cat of student events: at once familiar and unpredictable, comforting and electric.

Before performances kicked off, MUISS tried a committee-intro skit. Names were announced, roles waved at the crowd, and effort was displayed just enough to convince you it wasn’t entirely improvised. And then the skit ended with Ibrahim lifting Farrel, literally. Just two people, who in every sense, had carried MUISS this year, hoisting each other in a three-second tableau that said more than any scripted introduction ever could. The night had technically begun, but this brief tableau felt like a prologue written by someone who loves metaphors.

The performances began in earnest. Korea opened. And for a hot second, it looked like they were about to subvert every expectation the crowd dragged in with them. No instant K-pop blast, no synchronized hair flips or neon-saturated drama. Just a slow, careful lead-in. The kind that tricks you into thinking, oh, maybe they’re doing something soft and sentimental this year. 

Give them a moment. 

Because when everyone settled into that quiet, Korea did what Korea does: they pivoted straight into the K-pop they were clearly itching to unleash.

Myanmar and Bangladesh slid in next, quietly, like two guests who arrive on time to a party and somehow go unnoticed until you see them leaving. Their performances were brief ripples in the night, gentle, purposeful, and gone before you fully realized you were watching. Myanmar, especially, leaned into a curated storytelling vibe, the kind that forces you to remember real people lived lives before TikTok ruined our attention spans. 

Then came Maldives. Their first time performing at MCN, or at least, that’s what the whispers said. You wouldn’t guess it. Their costumes were clean, precise, miraculously cohesive for a debut. Their performance had an interactive pulse, not overt, but enough to make the audience lean in subconsciously. It wasn’t desperate for applause; it simply existed with quiet dignity. A rare moment in an event where most are trying very hard to be memorable. Brunei’s turn arrived with singing and visual cues that made sense if you were paying attention. Not flashy, not obnoxious, just… there. 

And then, like the returning monarchs they are, India x Nepal walked in. MCN 2024 winners move differently, with a confidence so subtle it almost looks like humility if you tilt your head. Their blending of traditions and movements had the effortlessness of a group that decided to rehearse every day since last year. There was pride, precision, and enough energy to remind everyone that winning last year didn’t make them complacent. 

Mauritius and Pakistan followed, steady, structured, comforting in the way a family recipe is. Mauritius surprised nobody by having more supporters on the sidelines than performers on stage. Their real performance was the cheering section: a parade of flags, screams, and patriotism manifesting as cardio. Pakistan’s piece was consistent and controlled, with performers mostly confined to two straight lines, as if symmetry alone could carry the show. Together, the acts offered a contrast of exuberant support and rigid formality. 

And then the room shifted. 

China walked on stage. 

Their costumes weren’t costumes; they were a thesis statement. Clean lines and bold colours made you rethink your wardrobe. Every movement was so precise it bordered on unfair. You could feel the crowd’s allegiance snap instantly. Murmurs. Leaning forward. The collective hum of oh, this is the one. Their performance was a curated punch, elegant but forceful, like someone edited a music video with surgical precision and then performed it live. Personally? They were my favourite. The confidence was almost cinematic. The crowd knew it. I knew it. China knew it. 

Sri Lanka followed, and somehow the energy didn’t dip. It evolved. A series of dances from different states blended with transitions so smooth they felt like someone had ironed time. Every movement showed hours of practice. Cohesion like that doesn’t just happen, it is willed into existence. They weren’t performing, they were establishing a boundary of identity. Mix them up with India and they’d correct you. Yet here they were, weaving in songs created in India without hesitation, and they wouldn’t care because they could carry them without losing themselves. By the end, it was obvious why they walked away with the night’s biggest win. 

Japan performed next, and it was… wholesome. The kind of wholesome that makes you want to smile politely while quietly judging your own life choices. Their energy was warm and welcoming, every movement measured but inviting, like they were quietly saying, come, enjoy this with us, it’s okay to exist here for a few minutes. 

Indonesia closed the performance segment, and it was painfully obvious they had spent enough money to fund at least three other countries’ entire MCN budgets combined. Costumes gleamed, sets sparkled, and every movement radiated confidence so polished it practically reflected the ceiling lights back into your soul. The Indonesians in the crowd matched the spectacle, waving flags and cheering with a patriotism that was almost performative itself. Their energy filled the hall, leaving a mark that Sri Lanka would later refine with precision rather than pure cash.

Amid all the performances, the logistics quietly fought for their own spotlight. Lines twisted, trays vanished mysteriously, and certain MUISS committee members attempted to shepherd the crowd with varying levels of success. One in particular seemed… less patient than usual, their instructions carrying a sharper edge than the congealing curry in the buffet trays.

MCN 2025 was, in short, exactly what its theme promised: Celebrate till midnight in a constellation of cultures. Every group, whether consciously, unconsciously, or by sheer osmosis, fell into the same rhythm: states, regions, cultures unfurling like slides in a presentation no one asked for. The formula is comforting, like reheated leftovers that somehow taste better the second time around. MCN thrives on this repetition, a loop of familiar gestures, polished steps, and predictable crescendos that somehow still manage to delight. 

Sri Lanka won because they executed it like a master chef following a recipe, but with just enough improvisation to make you think it was genius rather than methodical. The secret to victory is deceptively simple: adhere to the pattern, but sprinkle in small flourishes, the little sparks that catch new eyes without upsetting those already watching with knowing smiles. For fresh audiences, it’s a revelation; for the veterans in the room, it’s a déjà vu served with whipped cream, quietly satisfying in ways only a formula perfected over years can be. Meanwhile, Indonesia claimed king and queen, Mauritius the prince and princess, China won the crowd’s heart, South Korea took best female, Japan second runner-up, and Indonesia first runner-up. A constellation of small victories punctuating a night of polished chaos.

Apologies for all the culinary metaphors,  I was starving by the time the night ended, and honestly, why did it feel like it would go on forever

Written by Jananee Jagadeesan

Photos by Crystal, Daven, Regine, and Nadhif