They could have lived my life. I could have been living theirs. The only difference between us is the circumstance of where we were born.
Sometimes life gets busy, and we forget to show gratitude to our Creator.
But when we return to our homeland, we truly realise the opportunities and privileges God has given us.
Recently, I returned to my homeland, Chennai, India after spending most of my life in Western countries, where I became accustomed to Western ideologies and norms without realising the immense privileges I had access to simply because of where I was born and raised.
Returning home is a humbling experience. It reminds me of the profound inequalities that exist in a place I have always considered home.
I often found myself questioning how, in a world of such abundance and resources, so many people are still denied life’s most basic necessities.
Growing up in Australia, it is uncommon to see children begging for money, working from such a young age, families delaying medical treatment because they cannot afford it, or education becoming a financial burden.
These realities are not only uncommon to me but to many people living in developed nations. They are circumstances that many struggle to comprehend, as we have become accustomed to living in a world where self often comes before community.
Whenever my family and I return home, our relatives enjoy taking us to new places around the city. A few days ago, my sisters and I visited the beach.
We were there to have fun, play games, and enjoy good food. Yet I couldn’t ignore the guilt I carried inside.
As my younger sister laughed while playing one of the beach games, I couldn’t help but notice the little boy running the stall. He wasn’t much older than her, yet while she was there to play, he was there earning a living.
Nearby, elderly vendors pleaded with passers-by to stop and buy food from their stalls. Their desperation was just as difficult to ignore.
What I witnessed that evening wasn’t an isolated experience. It reflected a much larger reality faced by millions across India and around the world.
It is astonishing that, in 2026, poverty, health inequity, and poor sanitation remain at such alarming levels.
Around 350 million people in India live on approximately $4.20 a day (Abhishek Waghmare, 2025).
Living on such a small income makes it difficult for families to save for healthcare, insurance, or education-related expenses.
Many government hospitals in India are overcrowded and overstretched, often leaving people with little choice but to seek treatment from private hospitals.
Private healthcare is often prohibitively expensive in India. As a result, sudden medical emergencies push millions of people into poverty every year (Oxfam, 2022).
The contrast between my life in Australia and the reality many people face in India is impossible to ignore. It reminds me that progress and poverty often exist side by side. One street is lined with modern, luxurious homes; the next is home to families sleeping on the pavement.
No one should have to live in such dire and demeaning conditions.
The Ummah is often described as one body. When one part of the body feels pain, the whole body feels pain.
Perhaps that’s why I keep asking myself the same question:
Why them, not me?
Maybe this question isn’t meant to fill us with guilt.
It’s meant to awaken responsibility.
If one part of the Ummah is suffering, then our response should not be indifference; it should be action.
We must take it upon ourselves to help one another, create initiatives that promote equality, and work towards reducing these disparities for everyone.
Because every child deserves a childhood. Every family deserves access to healthcare. Every person deserves to live with dignity.
Perhaps the real question is no longer, “Why them, not me?” but rather, “What will I do with the blessings God has given me?”
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