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Sardar Gurucharan Singh, 1994, Jatin Das
At 28, I'm still living in my parents' house in Pune, and the guilt is overwhelming. After my MBA, I landed what seemed like a decent job in IT consulting, making 65,000 rupees per month. My friends say I'm lucky to live at home and save money, but they don't see the complete picture.
Papa retired last year from his government job, and I know his pension isn't enough. Ma never worked outside the home. Every month, a significant portion of their pension goes towards my younger sister's college fees in Bangalore. I contribute to household expenses, but is it enough?
The pressure to fulfill my responsibilities as the elder son weighs heavily. In our middle-class family, the expectation was clear – study hard, get a good job, then take care of your parents. But between helping at home and saving for my own future, I feel stuck. Property prices in Pune have skyrocketed; a decent 2BHK costs over 80 lakhs. Marriage is another looming expectation.
Recently, I overheard Ma telling our neighbor that they're thinking of selling their gold to fund my sister's final year. That night, I couldn't sleep. They've spent their entire lives securing our future, and now, when they should be relaxing, they're still sacrificing for us.
I've started looking for better opportunities, maybe in Bangalore or Hyderabad. The thought of leaving them alone pains me, but I need to earn more. Some of my cousins have moved abroad, but I can't imagine being that far from my parents in their retirement years. There has to be a middle ground.
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Maddy
Maddy
15 Dec
15 Dec
Hi Friend,
Your story hit me like a freight train of familiar feelings - that specific South Asian flavor of filial duty mixed with modern economic anxiety, all wrapped up in a masala dosa of guilt. (And yes, I'm mixing metaphors here because that's exactly how jumbled these emotions are, isn't it?)
Let me tell you something that might sound strange: Your guilt is both completely rational AND totally fucking unfair to yourself. It's rational because you're a caring person who sees your parents' struggles. It's unfair because you've internalized this idea that at 28, you should somehow be Atlas, carrying your entire family's world on your shoulders while simultaneously building your own.
You know what really struck me about your letter? That sleepless night after overhearing your mom talk about selling her gold. FUCK. That moment contains multitudes - the weight of generational sacrifice, the brutality of inflation in India, the quiet dignity of parents who would rather sell their safety net than burden their children. It's devastating. And you're carrying all of that in your chest, aren't you? Every single day.
But here's what I want you to really hear: You are not failing anyone by being exactly where you are right now.
Let me say that again: YOU ARE NOT FAILING ANYONE BY BEING EXACTLY WHERE YOU ARE RIGHT NOW.
The narrative you're wrestling with - this idea that the "good son" seamlessly transitions from dependent child to family provider - is a cultural fairy tale that's about as realistic as expecting every adult to own a house with a white picket fence by 25. The economic reality of 2024 India isn't the same as when this expectation was formed. A 65,000 rupee salary that would've been aspirational a generation ago barely keeps pace with urban costs today. The game changed, but nobody updated the rulebook.
You mentioned your cousins who moved abroad, and I felt that ambivalence in your words - that push-pull between opportunity and obligation. But you know what? Sometimes taking care of your parents means making choices that FEEL like you're abandoning them in the short term. Moving to Bangalore or Hyderabad isn't betrayal - it's strategy. If you can increase your earning potential significantly, that's not abandoning your duties; it's finding a better way to fulfill them.
Here's what I want you to do: Stop thinking about this as a binary choice between being the "good son" who stays or the "selfish son" who leaves. Instead, ask yourself: What does sustainable support actually look like? Because grinding yourself down to dust trying to be everything to everyone isn't sustainable - it's a recipe for burning out before you can actually help anyone.
Consider this: Your parents spent their lives trying to give you and your sister wings. They didn't do that so you could clip those wings in some misguided attempt to repay them. They did it so you could soar - and yes, maybe help lift them up too, but from a place of strength, not sacrifice.
You're not stuck. You're in transition. There's a difference. Being stuck is standing still while feeling trapped. Being in transition means you're actively working through something difficult - and holy shit, are you ever working through it. You're contributing to household expenses while saving for your future. You're job hunting while supporting your parents. You're carrying emotional weight while trying to build emotional wealth. That's not being stuck - that's being brave enough to stay in the complexity of it all.
So here's my radical suggestion: What if - and stay with me here - what if you treated your ambition not as a betrayal of your family obligations, but as an essential part of fulfilling them? What if getting that better job in Bangalore isn't running away, but running toward a future where you can REALLY help, from a place of abundance rather than scarcity?
Because here's the truth that's harder to swallow than your mom's best khichdi: You can't pour from an empty cup, and right now, you're trying to serve drinks at a family feast while your cup has more cracks than contents.
Fill your cup first. It's not selfish - it's fucking necessary.
Maddy
P.S. And about that real estate FOMO? The same property that's "skyrocketed" to 80 lakhs today might be the property you'll wish you could buy for "only" 80 lakhs three years from now. Don't let that particular anxiety drive your decisions. Focus on growing your income first. The rest will follow.
Hi Friend,
Your story hit me like a freight train of familiar feelings - that specific South Asian flavor of filial duty mixed with modern economic anxiety, all wrapped up in a masala dosa of guilt. (And yes, I'm mixing metaphors here because that's exactly how jumbled these emotions are, isn't it?)
Let me tell you something that might sound strange: Your guilt is both completely rational AND totally fucking unfair to yourself. It's rational because you're a caring person who sees your parents' struggles. It's unfair because you've internalized this idea that at 28, you should somehow be Atlas, carrying your entire family's world on your shoulders while simultaneously building your own.
You know what really struck me about your letter? That sleepless night after overhearing your mom talk about selling her gold. FUCK. That moment contains multitudes - the weight of generational sacrifice, the brutality of inflation in India, the quiet dignity of parents who would rather sell their safety net than burden their children. It's devastating. And you're carrying all of that in your chest, aren't you? Every single day.
But here's what I want you to really hear: You are not failing anyone by being exactly where you are right now.
Let me say that again: YOU ARE NOT FAILING ANYONE BY BEING EXACTLY WHERE YOU ARE RIGHT NOW.
The narrative you're wrestling with - this idea that the "good son" seamlessly transitions from dependent child to family provider - is a cultural fairy tale that's about as realistic as expecting every adult to own a house with a white picket fence by 25. The economic reality of 2024 India isn't the same as when this expectation was formed. A 65,000 rupee salary that would've been aspirational a generation ago barely keeps pace with urban costs today. The game changed, but nobody updated the rulebook.
You mentioned your cousins who moved abroad, and I felt that ambivalence in your words - that push-pull between opportunity and obligation. But you know what? Sometimes taking care of your parents means making choices that FEEL like you're abandoning them in the short term. Moving to Bangalore or Hyderabad isn't betrayal - it's strategy. If you can increase your earning potential significantly, that's not abandoning your duties; it's finding a better way to fulfill them.
Here's what I want you to do: Stop thinking about this as a binary choice between being the "good son" who stays or the "selfish son" who leaves. Instead, ask yourself: What does sustainable support actually look like? Because grinding yourself down to dust trying to be everything to everyone isn't sustainable - it's a recipe for burning out before you can actually help anyone.
Consider this: Your parents spent their lives trying to give you and your sister wings. They didn't do that so you could clip those wings in some misguided attempt to repay them. They did it so you could soar - and yes, maybe help lift them up too, but from a place of strength, not sacrifice.
You're not stuck. You're in transition. There's a difference. Being stuck is standing still while feeling trapped. Being in transition means you're actively working through something difficult - and holy shit, are you ever working through it. You're contributing to household expenses while saving for your future. You're job hunting while supporting your parents. You're carrying emotional weight while trying to build emotional wealth. That's not being stuck - that's being brave enough to stay in the complexity of it all.
So here's my radical suggestion: What if - and stay with me here - what if you treated your ambition not as a betrayal of your family obligations, but as an essential part of fulfilling them? What if getting that better job in Bangalore isn't running away, but running toward a future where you can REALLY help, from a place of abundance rather than scarcity?
Because here's the truth that's harder to swallow than your mom's best khichdi: You can't pour from an empty cup, and right now, you're trying to serve drinks at a family feast while your cup has more cracks than contents.
Fill your cup first. It's not selfish - it's fucking necessary.
Maddy
P.S. And about that real estate FOMO? The same property that's "skyrocketed" to 80 lakhs today might be the property you'll wish you could buy for "only" 80 lakhs three years from now. Don't let that particular anxiety drive your decisions. Focus on growing your income first. The rest will follow.
Share your story - because, in the end, there will always be story or two to tell. About being broken. Rising. Falling. Growing. Disappearing. Waiting. Surviving. Changing. And other human fears.
Submit a Story