Growing up in a large joint family in Kolkata, I learned the value of thrift from an early age. Whether it was clothes, furniture, or electronics, my grandparents would scour the local markets for the best second-hand deals. "Why buy new when you can get the same for half the price?" Dadu would say, beaming with pride at his latest bargain.

Now, as a young professional earning ₹55,000 per month in Delhi, I find myself instinctively following in their footsteps. My colleagues are always upgrading their gadgets and home decor, but the thought of paying full price for something new makes my heart race. Instead, I spend hours scrolling through OLX, Quikr, and local Facebook groups, hunting for pre-owned gems.

Last month, I found a barely-used Macbook Pro for ₹45,000, nearly 60% off the original price. My officemates were impressed, but I couldn't help feeling a little embarrassed. Do they think I'm cheap? I know my frugal habits stem from a deep-rooted fear of financial insecurity, something ingrained in me since childhood.

During the pandemic, when my company announced pay cuts, I was grateful that my second-hand furniture and appliances meant I didn't have to dip into my savings. While my roommate struggled to replace her dying refrigerator, I was able to find a perfectly good used one for ₹8,000.

Sometimes, I worry that my obsession with bargains is becoming unhealthy. My girlfriend, Priya, often teases me about my "junkyard chic" apartment decor. "As long as it works and makes you happy, that's all that matters," she said.

I know not everyone understands my quasi-hoarding tendencies. But in a city as expensive as Delhi, every rupee saved is a step closer to my dream of financial independence.