I was born and raised in a lower-middle-class family in India. We didn’t have much, but we had enough — enough food on the table, enough dreams to keep us going, and enough fear of slipping backward to make us cautious.
Like most parents of their generation, mine believed in the safe route: study hard, secure a government job or a steady private one, marry at the “right” age, and build a stable life step by step. They had seen struggle up close and believed this blueprint was the surest way out. Maybe, in many ways, they were right.
But I was young, restless, and convinced that my instincts would lead me to something bigger. I didn’t want a predictable life. I wanted freedom, variety, excitement.
So, I ignored the advice. I barely reflected on my strengths or weaknesses. I overlooked the opportunities right in front of me. Instead, I chased what seemed thrilling at the moment: telesales, personal loan sales, retail, customer support, IT marketing, event management, industrial marketing, even a failed startup and freelancing with irregular income. Every time I stumbled, I comforted myself with the thought: “This is part of the journey. Big things take time.”
I even made personal choices against my parents’ wishes, like getting engaged to the wrong person and later walking away from that relationship. Each decision felt bold then. Looking back, it was often reckless.
I brushed off my elders’ warnings as fear. I mistook their experience for limitation. They weren’t against my dreams — they just knew how unforgiving life can be without a safety net.
Now, at 42, I’ve done a little of everything but haven’t built anything solid. I live a decent life, provide for my wife and daughter, and stay afloat. But I carry a quiet ache — the knowledge that I could have grown differently if I had been less stubborn about always “following my instincts.”
I work in a small firm now. No PF, no health benefits. Rent eats up most of my income. Some nights, I lie awake worrying about my daughter’s future and the chances I wasted — not because I tried and failed, but because I ignored guidance that might have saved me from the worst of it.
My friends who chose the “boring” path — government jobs, steady careers — now live in owned homes, have insurance, stable EMIs, and even savings to invest. I don’t envy them, but I can finally see the wisdom in the foundation they built.
There’s nothing wrong with chasing dreams. But when you come from where I come from, you must respect the cost. The blueprint our parents gave us wasn’t glamorous, but it worked. They understood the power of security.
I still have time. I’m not finished. But if a younger version of me is reading this: don’t mistake pride for purpose. Don’t follow trends blindly. Make plans, but don’t let them become cages. Be brave enough to change direction when needed.
And most importantly — listen. Listen to your elders, even if you don’t fully agree. Learn from their struggles. Use your instincts, but temper them with wisdom.
Because sometimes, the safest path isn’t the easiest. It’s the smartest.