By Neha Singh

“How much is life?”

The classroom went silent—not because we didn’t want to answer but because we didn’t know how. It’s absurd, isn’t it, to even fathom the thought of putting a price on the life we are given?

I think we complain a lot. I complain a lot—very Singaporean, I know.  

I complain and worry about everything under the sun: family not being supportive of my journey (yet); my medical expenses being three digits monthly; the mountain of admin work my job requires me to do; my medical condition, etc. 

“Would you cut off your left limb in exchange for a million dollars?” 

“Would you lose your eyesight for a million dollars?” 

Suddenly, the things I was complaining about disappeared. Alhamdulillah for life and astaghfirullah for even entertaining such irrelevant matters. At the end of the day, we shouldn’t trade life for anything. We cannot enjoy life without being given life.

Money is actually poorer than us. 

Temporary

I work with infants and toddlers with special needs. Alhamdulillah for my job; it truly brings me so much joy despite the mountain of admin to do. I love my students—they are absolute angels. I was given the privilege by Allah ﷻ to nurture His adorable little creations in their functional development. 

“Isn’t it hard to teach children with special needs?”, they ask. 

“Alhamdullilah, He makes it easy.” I say.

For the past 3 weeks, however, I have been going back and forth in a constant state of anxiety because my student—S, who is 3 years old—has been going in and out of the hospital. 

S has Down syndrome, which makes him very susceptible to viruses and illnesses.

S’ condition declined rapidly. Consequently, I was tasked with arranging for family counselling in the event he does pass on. 

It was hard to see S unlike himself. He was not smiling, had no interest in the toys he used to love, had no appetite, and kept crying for hours on end. I would visit him and feel hopeless, sometimes on the verge of tears, because it all happened so suddenly.  

I had planned to visit S after class. Over the lunch break, I was sharing with my friends about the situation. As I was thinking out loud, I recalled that even if S does pass on, he goes straight to jannah. SubhanAllah. 

That brought me so much ease. S has a golden ticket to jannah. He would be under the care of Ibrahim AS and free from all the pains he felt in the Dunya.

Alhamdulillah, I visited S not expecting him to be well based on the updates his mom relayed to me the day before, but SubhanAllah S was in the pink of health. He was giggling, eating well, smiling and demanding that I sing him songs, which I gladly did and at every pause I got, I thanked Allah ﷻ for healing S. Thank Allah ﷻ for easing his affairs and, in return, easing ours as well.  

This whole saga got me thinking about a phrase posed in class: 

“Plan your journey in proportion to your destination.” 

Am I prepared for my destination? It’s going to come one day, sooner or later. I felt at ease with S’ situation because I knew his guaranteed outcome. 

Me? I have no golden ticket to jannah. 

BUT I WILL CONTINUE TO DO MY LEVEL BEST TO BE MINDFUL AND GRATEFUL TO ALLAH ﷻ FOR ALL HE GIVES ME, HAS GIVEN ME, AND WILL GIVE ME. BECAUSE WHAT AM I WITHOUT HIS HELP AND HIS GUIDANCE?

Do You Believe in One God
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