I know someone who’s a year older than me. He’s family, and I’ve known him since childhood. He grew up in a tier-2 city and, like me, is an only child. He was brilliant at academics. The kind of kid my mom constantly compared me to, while I struggled to keep up. Every summer, we’d either visit his place or he’d come to ours. We’d play games, watch a couple of movies in the theatre, and just have fun.
After high school, we ended up at the same engineering college. I moved from a tier-1 city and stayed in a hostel, while he remained a day scholar. Despite our childhood bond, we barely interacted in college. I was adjusting to life away from home, and I wanted to explore the coastal charm of Karnataka. But with limited funds, my adventures were mostly limited to weekend visits to his place. We were simply different. Nothing wrong with that.
After college, our lives took completely different paths. He joined a major Indian software company in his hometown. I moved to Bangalore. Over the next two decades, I switched jobs, went through a divorce, picked up a serious hobby, traveled like a vagabond, became a pet parent, left Bangalore to find myself, survived a health scare, recouped and learnt about nutrition — and here I am today. I’ve changed multiple times over. But him? He got married, had two kids, and still works at the same company he joined as a fresher, in the same tier-2 city.
I’m not looking down on his life. He’s a great father, and his life has its own richness. But there’s a difference between experiencing life from within your comfort zone and riding a rollercoaster — willingly or not.
Over a decade ago, when he was looking to get married, he surprisingly struggled to find matches. On paper, he was ideal — academically gifted, employed in a good company, owned a house, son of a well-known personality. But his location was a deal-breaker. Many women didn’t want to move to a tier-2 city, and he never wanted to leave it.
Eventually, he did find someone from a tier-1 city. Her journey, from the outside, seems one of struggle. But that struggle has paid off. I won’t go into specifics, but let’s just say her face is now on billboards. Her story began with stepping out of her comfort zone. His never required that.
When I meet him now, our conversations haven’t evolved. We still talk about the same old things . Sports, TV, office life, the newest pubs and restaurants. Maybe he’s traveled more now, thanks to family vacations. And yes, my mom still thinks he’s the person I “could have been.”
I thought of him after a recent chat with someone on a matrimony app. She ‘rejected’ me after just one conversation. This wasn’t the first time — something similar happened a couple of months ago. Both women were divorcees like me, worked in IT, and had parents who’d retired from PSUs and had property in the older parts of the city, thanks to early investments before real estate exploded.
Both seemed to lose interest when I spoke about how moving out of Bangalore changed my life. I don’t blame them — this city is their home. Their cocoon, lovingly built by their parents.
What surprised me was the way they rejected me. No message, no closure — just silence. It was as if something about me completely spooked them.
I’m not claiming to be above comfort zones. I have mine too. But my instinct is to challenge them — to swim against the tide. From the time I got my first paycheck, I was pressured to buy a house. (Though my first earnings actually went towards paying off my dad’s EMIs.) But owning property didn’t feel like an anchor — it felt like a burden. Today, after two decades, I’m finally ready to invest in property, and I realize how wrong all that early advice was. If I’d followed it, I’d have taken a mortgage, tied myself to EMIs, and missed out on everything I’ve experienced since. I have more to say on that. Maybe in another blog.
It’s comforting to have shelter, financial stability, a steady income, and no need to wander far from home. Stability is boring but boring is what people are. Some do manage to work on that kind of foundation built by parents and become techbros who launch startups, artists chasing passion without a plan, or even unemployed but socially vibrant. When your their basics are covered, you can choose to make your life as interesting as you want it to be.
Old-time Bangaloreans, with PSU jobs and smart property investments, are now enjoying stable retirements funded by pensions and rent. Their children, like the two women I mentioned, have had stable, linear lives, despite the detour of a failed marriage. But that’s just it: both extremes — too much childhood instability or too much stability — can stifle growth later in life.
Of course, there are beautiful stories of people from the ’80s who have kids and lead normal lives. But the outliers with failed marriages — like those two women — I wonder about them. And I wonder about me too. Is my struggle my identity? When will I drop the generational trauma around money and shelter? How long will I be in a state of uncertainty about where I want to “settle down?” Right now my cats are a priority. Even when looking for a home to buy, I keep them in mind. I am sure this sounds ridiculous to people I talk to. One thing I can say for sure – nobody is interested in your journey. If you are not telling people what they want to hear, you are not getting what you want.
