Student
Story

Some years ago, I was on a bus ride that I’ll never forget. The heat was unbearable, pressing down on everyone like a heavy blanket. Kids sat quietly, wiping sweat from their faces. Among them was a little girl, maybe six years old, clutching a teddy bear. I started talking to her, and for a moment, the discomfort of the journey began to fade. She told me about her teddy, whispering to it, “It’s too hot.”
Then, without warning, she collapsed. Her small body slumped against the window with a dull thud. The entire bus seemed to freeze. The other kids watched in wide-eyed horror, their fear raw and real. Someone screamed. In the chaos, her teddy bear fell to the floor, trampled and forgotten.
Help came eventually, but the image of that moment never left me. I kept thinking—could I have done something? Should I have known what to do?
Years later, during my orientation week at BMU, I came across the Youth Red Cross (YRC) at the club fair. Their mission—to help those in need—immediately resonated with me. Maybe this was my chance to make a difference.
I joined the club and got involved in various initiatives—volunteering at shelters, organising blood donation drives—but the memory of that little girl stayed with me. It wasn’t enough. I wanted to do more.
“What if we organised a free health checkup for children?” I suggested one day.

The team was on board. We worked tirelessly, reaching out to doctors, spreading the word, and making sure everything was in place. As the event day approached, a nagging worry began to creep in. What if no one showed up? What if we failed?
But they came—mothers carrying infants, kids with persistent coughs, elderly individuals in need of care. I saw gratitude in their eyes, relief in their smiles. A mother broke down in tears when a doctor handed her free medicine. A little boy, after getting a vaccination, turned to me and grinned bravely. For the first time in years, that heavy weight in my heart eased a little.
As we distributed medicines and checked heartbeats, I realised something important. This wasn’t just about healthcare; it was about showing up for people, about being there when they needed help the most.
At the end of the day, I was exhausted but fulfilled. I looked down at my hands—just ordinary hands—but they had done something meaningful. That moment on the bus had changed me, but this experience gave me a sense of purpose. And I knew then, I would keep going, keep helping—because that day, my heart, which had once stopped in fear, had started beating with hope again.