Palm trees, warm weather, and one massive party. Sound familiar?
Needless to say, the Monash Business Club and MUSA’s Activities department went full throttle in planning and marketing this one. The prelude to the music started with a sprawling bazaar encompassing the entirety of the campus. Pair that with the carnival games in the badminton court, and the student body was in for a treat, not to mention the roster of performers vying for their spot on stage.
Monchella arrived at the perfect time. Half the world away from the sun-soaked sands of the Coachella Valley, a similar musical storm brewed in our very own tropical paradise here at Sunway City. Right when deadlines had begun stacking on top of each other, when the semester was becoming more about submissions than sleep, and when every conversation somehow circled back to assignments, students found an excuse to put all of that aside for a few hours.
This year’s theme seemed to lean towards beach vibes. Cowboy boots appeared where they probably shouldn’t have. Rhinestones caught the evening sunlight. People walked across campus dressed as if they were heading to a music festival rather than classes. Dressed in their best Valley girl getups and knee-high boots, people were snapping pictures on the astroturf as they eagerly waited for the serpentine line to fade. Nobody seemed to mind waiting.
Being distinguished members of the Monash Gazette, we fought our way past the moccasins and leather, flashing our Writers badges to get past the tight security guarding the doorway to the main stage. Volunteers moved quickly between stations while the first groups of students wandered in. The smell of popcorn drifted through the air long before the performances began. Somewhere in the distance, music was already playing, loud enough to reach people before they even arrived at the venue.
There were bull rides spinning students around while their friends laughed from the sidelines.
Cotton candy and popcorn stalls stood beside game booths. Instead of darts, people tossed soft sticky balls at giant balloon targets.
Every corner seemed to have something happening. A clown in full costume wandered through the crowd, making balloon creations for anyone who asked. Nearby, students queued for photos beneath decorations that looked as though they had been carefully designed for Instagram. The photo booth line stretched endlessly, and everyone was taking pictures.
Friends photographed friends. Strangers photographed strangers. Cameras appeared from every direction. It became difficult to tell who belonged to the media team and who simply wanted to remember the evening. Before the performers even stepped on stage, the audience was already performing in their own way.
We managed to snag some time off a member of the security team who was working overtime and had been there since the carnival games were being set up earlier that day. Common workplace complaints included the heat, the slight drizzle, and the exhaustion of everyone’s social battery. Conversely, the PR-trained volunteers comprising the ground staff described the scene as colorful, energetic, interactive, and memorable, pointing to the crowd spilling out of the student lounge and into the venue.
The general admission area began filling faster than VIP. Wristbands flashed under the evening light as people found places to stand. The space between groups slowly disappeared. Everyone who’s anyone showed up at Monchella.
One student mentioned that his favourite part of the event was simply watching everyone enjoy themselves:
“It’s nice seeing people put effort into their outfits and have fun. Though food stalls inside the venue would’ve been nice.”
Another student described the event as a small escape, a “good break from all the stress.” That seemed to be the common feeling; not necessarily excitement, but relief.
For a moment, the entire venue looked like something from a coming-of-age movie. As the sky softened into evening, the hosts stepped onto the stage. A countdown began.
Edits to Justin Bieber flashed across the screens, immediately earning cheers from the audience. “Bieberchella,” it is.
The Suffering Students, opened the show. With members consisting of familiar faces from around campus, they set the scene with a more alternative aesthetic. Their vocals carried across the venue while students continued settling into the evening.
The vocalists were preaching rock and pop hits as the crowd built up to fill the grounds. At first, the crowd listened more than they participated. But little by little, people began singing along. Heads nodded.
Friends swayed together. The atmosphere felt less like a concert and more like a gathering slowly finding its rhythm.
Following the opening act, TY:DEL brought their own brand of Malaysian indie pop to an increasingly engaging audience. The venue grew warmer. Walking through the crowd became increasingly difficult.
The VIP section, surprisingly slow to fill earlier, gradually became crowded as well. Yet from a distance, both sections felt similar. Everyone was there for the same reason. Some were focused on the stage. Others were focused on their friends. But many seemed perfectly happy doing both.
The stage features became progressively more eccentric over time as the night dragged on. TY:DEL’s stellar performance saw the first notable recruitment of the bubble machine, tiny, floating, pearlescent reflections drifting above the crowd, catching the last bits of sunlight before disappearing into the air. Paired with their head-bobbing setlist, the heavier instrumentals rolled through the venue while sunset colours faded from the sky; the stage lights began taking over.
At times, it felt as though the audience was paying equal attention to the music and to each other. People waved lights, others took pictures, and some simply sat on the grass and watched. The bubbles returned occasionally, floating above hundreds of heads before disappearing into the darkness.
Then came the rain, not enough to stop the event immediately. Just enough to make people glance upwards.
Umbrellas appeared here and there. A few attendees left. Most stayed. There was something oddly beautiful about watching students stand beneath a cloudy sky, refusing to let a little rain interrupt their evening.
Those who remained seemed to bring even more energy, perhaps because everyone knew they had chosen to stay. As darkness settled over the venue, the lights from the stage became brighter.
Next came Midnight Fusic, drawing most of the crowd to the front of the barricades, trying to sneak a glimpse of the rockstars. Even those outside the venue in the smoking area clambered onto the benches and peered in through and above the holes in the campus fencing; it has to be admitted that one of the onlookers included a MONGA writer as he happily enjoyed his smoke break while still being a part of the action.
Gazing at the audience and stage, one could see not only the cold spark and bubble machines working overtime, but the diversity and unity of the crowd at play. Phone flashlights were on, movements and waves were in unison, and they belted out lyrics to songs they didn’t even know the words to.
Audience participation was at an all-time high, with hosts sauntering around the grounds interviewing and asking questions, which were met with only the most boisterous remarks.
Outside the main performance area, the Monchella Bazaar remained busy. Students slipped away for snacks before returning to join their friends.
Inside, the atmosphere felt different now. More intimate, the bright daylight energy had faded into something softer.
The commercial break after Midnight Fusic’s set also saw one of our dear writers greeted by one of the event staff, who asked if he’d like to take part in a “quick quiz for a chance to win 100 ringgit.”
Who could say no to such a proposal?
After blindly saying yes, he was then taken by ground staff and rounded up in a back room with two associates from the photography and design department, who were also covering the festival. They were then ushered hurriedly onto the stage in front of a crowd of hundreds to be quizzed on the local operations of O’Brien’s, a multinational Irish Sandwich Cafe chain that, as they were told, would provide them each with 100-ringgit vouchers for furthering their capital interests. Suffice it to say, none of them would have received those life-changing 100 ringgits over the upcoming days after the festival.
Following the brief kidnapping, dance performances courtesy of the Sunway Dance Club drew some of the strongest reactions of the evening. The moment familiar K-pop tracks played through the speakers, cheers travelled across the crowd. People who had spent the previous hour standing quietly suddenly found themselves singing along.
The audience knew the songs.
The songs knew the audience.
By the time the beloved MSDS appeared, the loudest cheers of the night echoed across the venue. Students climbed onto barriers for better views. Phones rose above heads like tiny glowing lanterns.
At the very back, some people complained they couldn’t see much at all. Yet somehow they stayed, because the experience had become bigger than simply watching the stage.
It was about being there. Being a part of it.
Later, when the DJ finally took over, the crowd seemed to forget how tired they had been only hours earlier. Hands rose into the air, people danced, and friends pulled friends and those in the proximity into impromptu mosh pits.
The bubbles made one final appearance, floating above the crowd while lights flashed beneath them.
For just a moment, everything felt suspended.
Assignments would still exist tomorrow.
Deadlines would still be waiting.
Exams would still arrive.
But on that particular evening, nobody seemed interested in thinking about any of that, and perhaps that was the real purpose of Monchella.
Just a few hours where students could exist somewhere between stress and celebration, beneath strings of lights and drifting bubbles, feeling a little lighter than they had the day before.
Photos by Brandon Y., Dickson Tey, Ryan Isaac