By Dipti Rathod<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Some people feel drawn to stillness. Mirra is not among them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She feels drawn to motion, the hum of voices down the corridor and the rustling of papers at the registration desks. To her, the Model United Nations, at the American University of Sharjah, is not an event; it is a heartbeat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
With her lanyard askew at the neckline and her phone buzzing endlessly, she stood behind the registration desk, commanding quiet order amid the clamorous crowd. Her task was straightforward in concept but not so much in execution: to ensure that each delegate, advisor and chair located their spot.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The logistics team, she joked, was like ghosts with spreadsheets, omnipresent, invisible, resolving issues and receiving no gratitude.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But, she never said that in a tone that suggests complaints towards her job. Her tone always conveyed her love and acceptance for her work.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI enjoy the chaos,” she said to her teammate Aisha at one time, chuckling while they piled up folders that the hectic morning would shortly disrupt. “It\u2019s enjoyable really. There\u2019s joy in the chaos.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That morning, chaos arrived, embodied by a man wearing a navy blazer and impatience.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cOur school deserves seats in the front row,” he stated, his voice firm. “We signed up for this months ago.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mirra glanced at her clipboard. “Actually, sir, your registration came later than other schools. The schools that registered first will be seated at the front. Your group will sit a bit back, but the view remains quite similar, so please don\u2019t be concerned.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThe opening ceremony is the reason we attend AUS MUN,” he argued. “Viewing it on a projector doesn\u2019t compare.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mirra grinned, a smile that concealed her fatigue. “It\u2019s live, sir. You won\u2019t miss a thing.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He remained still. His students lingered uncomfortably behind him, one perched on crutches.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mirra\u2019s tone grew gentler. “Let\u2019s have your students take their seats. He shouldn\u2019t remain standing for long.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The advisor paid her no attention. She exhaled deeply and placed a brief call. “Khaldoon, could<\/p>\n\n\n\n
you come to registration? We have a situation.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Khaldoon appeared within minutes, as composed as ever. Switching to Arabic, he met with the advisor\u2019s complaints with unwavering patience. The advisor\u2019s demeanor eased after he directed his students to their places.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou\u2019re magic,\u201d Mirra told him,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He grinned, “I\u2019ve got your back no matter what. Don\u2019t worry, okay?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mirra nodded with a gentle smile.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The day unfolded in that manner, with one issue merging into another. A microphone failed. A bus showed up behind schedule. Amidst everything, Mirra ran from building to building, clutching her clipboard as if it were a compass.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
By midday, her feet ached, but her eyes still held the spark of someone who thrives in motion.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“You have to laugh about it,” she said, half out of breath. “Otherwise, you\u2019ll go crazy.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That day, she noticed a young volunteer at the desk with trembling shoulders.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mirra knelt next to her. “Hey, what\u2019s going on?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The girl wiped her eyes, inhaling sharply and heavily. “An advisor yelled at me. Said I was<\/p>\n\n\n\n
useless.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mirra offered her a tissue. “You\u2019re not. Some people forget that we\u2019re volunteers. Don\u2019t let them ruin your day.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The girl nodded weakly, but with a reassuring smile.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cLet\u2019s hurry,” Mirra urged. “Our seniors said we get first dibs on the buffet. Let\u2019s go before the delegates find out.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It was small gestures like that which kept the logistics team together. They functioned as one pulse\u2014exhausted, laughing and stubbornly united.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Nonetheless, not every confrontation was peaceful. In the middle of a committee meeting, several advisors stormed in mid-debate, cameras clicking as students paused their speeches.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cExcuse me, ” Mirra said, moving closer. “Taking photos isn\u2019t permitted. The students haven\u2019t provided permission.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
An advisor dismissed her with a wave. “We’re merely taking pictures.\u201d \u201cIt violates the rules,” she said again, calm yet resolute.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
As they disregarded her, Khaldoon stood next to her. “Let’s have a little talk,” he stated softly, and the tension lifted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
By the end of the day, the hallways looked like the remnants of a festivity: discarded badges, tangled wires and volunteers resting heavily against the walls. Mirra eventually took a seat, the fatigue of the two days finally settling over her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Khaldoon asked whether she would take part in the AUS MUN ever again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She chuckled and grinned playfully as she said, “I already have. I registered for next year.\u201d \u201cWhy, after all that?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She tilted her head. “Because it teaches you. You notice how challenging people can be but you manage regardless, and when you do, you emerge more resilient. The students justify it. They depend on you. It\u2019s messy, but it\u2019s meaningful.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
To Mirra, the chaos wasn\u2019t noise. It was cadence, a beat, a practice, in endurance and people. She mastered staying composed amid the turmoil and fixing problems before the panic could grow. “I used to be overly anxious,” she remarked afterwards. “Now I just focus on the present. Address what\u2019s before me. The future will handle itself.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In her sophomore year, she realised the extent of her transformation.” I can talk to anyone now,”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
she said. “I used to dread small talk, but I\u2019ve learned how to connect. You just adapt.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
If she had the chance to talk to her younger self, the anxious beginner gripping a clipboard and hoping not to mess up, she knew what she would say.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cCalm down, take everything as a learning experience. Don\u2019t fixate on the bad parts. You\u2019ll be okay.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The closing came and went, fading into tired laughter as the applause subsided. The delegates departed, and the banners came down. The registration desk, once alive and bustling with sound, now stood bare.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mirra paused briefly, glancing around the atrium. The fluorescent bulbs buzzed softly above. Her clipboard rested on the table, smeared with ink blots and coffee stains.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She smiled softly, an expression blending weariness and contentment equally.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cFun in the chaos,” she whispered to herself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then she turned off the lights and stepped into the evening, ready for the next storm that would call her name.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
By Dipti Rathod Some people feel drawn to stillness. Mirra is not among them. She feels drawn to motion, the hum of voices down the corridor and the rustling of papers at the registration desks. To her, the Model United Nations, at the American University of Sharjah, is not an event; it is a heartbeat. […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":5460,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[60,28,43],"tags":[33,82],"class_list":{"0":"post-5459","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","5":"has-post-thumbnail","7":"category-feature-articles","8":"category-features","9":"category-magazines","10":"tag-aus","11":"tag-aus-campus"},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/mcmmediahub.aus.edu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5459","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/mcmmediahub.aus.edu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/mcmmediahub.aus.edu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mcmmediahub.aus.edu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mcmmediahub.aus.edu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=5459"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/mcmmediahub.aus.edu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5459\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mcmmediahub.aus.edu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/5460"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/mcmmediahub.aus.edu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=5459"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mcmmediahub.aus.edu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=5459"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mcmmediahub.aus.edu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=5459"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}