There are moments in our daily lives that ask us—gently, almost imperceptibly—to pause. Not because something extraordinary has happened, but because something deeply human has been quietly unfolding in front of us all along.
Since young, I have been observant, always catching the faintest shifts in the air around me. Some might call it being a busybody, but I prefer to think of it as being philosophical lol. Being on call during Raya over the past few days gave me rare moments to sit, reflect—not only on medical diagnostic dilemmas, but on life itself. And so, I finally decided to pen down these thoughts.
A security guard stands under the unforgiving hospital sun, watchful and steadfast. A food delivery rider weaves through traffic during Raya—a season meant for reflection and togetherness—yet still working to make ends meet. Inside the hospital, staff move tirelessly from one patient to another—likely underpaid and exhausted—yet carrying on with a quiet sense of duty.
There is nothing dramatic about these scenes. And yet, they linger.
Because beneath them lies a question that is both simple and unsettling: why does hard work not always lead to a life of dignity?
We are often taught that effort is enough—that if one works hard, stability and comfort will follow. But reality tells a different story. The individuals we see every day—the guard, the rider, the hospital worker—are not lacking in discipline or perseverance. If anything, they embody it. Yet their labour does not always translate into security or opportunity.
Perhaps this is where we must begin to rethink poverty.
Poverty is not merely the absence of income. It is the absence of choice. My brother often unabashedly reminds me that money gives you options in life (besides conveniently pointing out that I am the B40 in the family). With it, time is saved, freedom expands, and the burden of opportunity cost lessens (I can almost hear my economics teacher echoing in my head). Poverty, then, is waking up each day knowing that rest is a luxury, that illness is a risk, and that time—something many of us take for granted—must constantly be traded for survival.
And so the question becomes: what can we do?
There is no simple solution. But there are starting points.
At a societal level, dignity must be built into the systems we uphold. Fair wages should not be aspirational; they should be standard. Essential work should be recognised not only in words, but in compensation and protection. Access to healthcare, education, and opportunities for growth should not depend on privilege, but be extended as a basic right.
At a personal level, perhaps change begins with awareness—truly seeing the people around us, not as background figures in our lives, but as individuals carrying burdens we may never fully understand. Small acts of kindness, tipping your grab drivers, supporting ethical businesses, or even a simple acknowledgment can matter more than we think.
But beyond kindness, there is also responsibility. To question—yes, even if it feels a little anti-establishment. To care. To refuse indifference. Because indifference is what allows inequality to persist quietly, unnoticed and unchallenged.
From the perspective of the less privileged—and something many Asian parents would agree on—education is often the starting point. It offers a pathway to transcend social class, but more importantly, it empowers individuals to think critically, to navigate the world beyond textbooks, and to create opportunities. Whether through traditional careers or modern avenues like investing or side hustles, it becomes a tool for agency in an evolving economy.
As I reflect on these moments, I am reminded that we all live under the same sun. Some, however, bear its heat more heavily than others.
And perhaps the least we can do is not look away.
Perhaps the most we can do is to begin—however small—in making that burden a little lighter.
- I do feel like I am back to my General Paper era with Mr Pang giving remedial classes in the arvo with the rest of the hostelites. Good old days hey. Signing off with my favorite piece of Maksim that I used to play a lot during that time ( ~20 years ago!)
Doctor on FIRE 