We shall meet again

No matter who you are and what you do, it is very easy to get caught up in the day-to-day activities that take up our energies.

Our youthful stamina and live-for-the-moment attitude can blind us to this simple fact of life: that we are only human and we are fragile.

The visit to the ICU proved to be one of the most painful episodes in my career this far.

Lying on the bed was a student of mine.

I remember how she would walk down those steps to the parade square with her regular group. I remember how sometimes she would walk past me and greet me. And I would greet her back. I know she's a good girl.

Yet now she lies in her current comatose state.

It is something that I find it impossible to reconcile.

No one should have the right to snuff out a young person's vitality and essence. No one.

No one could have predicted this to happen.





Standing in the ICU ward with colleagues and her mum, I bent low, looking at her countenance. Her eyes are closed, and I can hear the breathing apparatus and the whrring and humming of the medical equipment that are designed to keep her alive.

It was heart-wrenching to see her like this.

My colleague and I gazed at her, both of us willing her to just open her eyes, to sit up, to have a conversation with us.

We had so much to say, but we found it virtually impossible to articulate our thoughts out. The silence in the room choked our words.

When I could finally speak out, all I could utter was, "Cindy."

Her mum stood with us and her undying love and patience was apparent to all. She kept talking to her beloved daughter. She massaged her limp hands, saying the same things she always said to her.

Her dad stood outside, arms crossed, looking in. He looked gaunt and worried.

It is very very tough on the parents.




We left the hospital, our mood sombre, and we dread to think how we could have handled this if it had happened to our own family. As it is, the family needs our support, and in the most practical sense, they need the financial support to pay the hefty medical bills.

It is good that the school is rallying support and the momentum is building up for fund-raising efforts for Cindy. As a collective soul, the school can do great works and make a substantial contribution to help the family tide through this crises, if every Fajarian takes a step forward and gives sincerely.

You see, Cindy is not just another Fajar student. She is a unique individual, she is loved by many around, and she has many unfulfilled dreams and potential in her. She deserves all the support and encouragement that she and her family can get.




As I spoke to her in the ICU, I never wondered whether she could hear me or not.

I know that Cindy hears every single word that we say to her.

Cindy, you must break free of the coma. The human body is capable of miracles and a body that is broken can be made whole again. I know you are able to hear us all.

Come back real soon, yea?

We all can't wait to see you back in school again.