Featured Trending Thoughts Media Contest November 2024 Contest October 2024 Contest September 2024 Contest April 2024 Health & Wellness Politics Science Religion Technology Culture Business Finance Sports Art & Illustration Beauty & Fashion News Music Faith & Spirituality Climate & Environment Literature Travel Parenting Philosophy Comics International History Humor Education Miscellaneous thinkspot
recent image
Marrying in One’s Early 20s
Sadhika Pant
 November 26 2024 at 05:48 am
more_horiz
post image
Where I come from, a corner of urban India nestled within the educated, middle-class fold, there’s an implicit understanding: it’s seen as almost wrong for young people to marry in their early twenties. Not every family thinks this way of course, and neither does every social class or state. India has variations, not least because it is a developing country and some parts develop faster than others. There are states where marriage comes early, places where it’s expected, and others where a young woman nearing her thirties, still unmarried, invites random people to speculate why she has still not tied the knot. This, though, has not been my burden to carry. My friends and I, we're the lucky ones, spared the same weight of expectations that pressed down on our mothers, or on others our age. But lately, I’ve found myself questioning whether this is an entirely good thing. All things considered, I'd say it's a step in the right direction that young people from urban, educated families in India are under less pressure to marry than their parents were a generation ago. That being said, there is another side to this. The idea of marrying in one’s early twenties isn’t just dismissed—it’s often ridiculed, sometimes even by elders, which strikes me as an odd and counterproductive way of looking at marriage. There's this notion, especially among the older generation, that by postponing marriage, their children will naturally spend those years climbing the career ladder, gaining financial independence, and gathering all the wisdom that will somehow make them financially more prepared and more mature when the time finally comes. And sure, that does happen sometimes—but it is often not the case. It’s very likely that these young people, who don’t even see marriage in their twenties as a valid life choice—on par with pursuing a second degree, starting a business, or landing that big promotion—end up pushing it away with such disdain for the institution that they never feel ready for it. By the time they hit their mid-thirties, their parents are left feeling hopeless, wondering if their children will ever “settle down” and start families of their own. Many get so accustomed to the bachelor’s life, the freedom of answering to no one, that the thought of giving it up for the next stage of responsibility and commitment seems like a self-imposed sacrifice. Folks from the West might wonder why I’m bringing parents into this, isn’t marriage supposed to be between two people? But in India, marriage isn’t just a union of two individuals—it’s a joining of two families, especially in arranged marriages. And parents, for better or worse, stay deeply involved in their children’s decisions and lives well into adulthood. That has its upsides and its downsides, like most things do. The trouble with this way of living is that privacy and the right to choose your own path often get crowded out by the voices of too many others. A young person’s life isn’t their own entirely; it’s shared, debated, and shaped by the family. Sure, you can push back—strike out on your own if you’ve got the money to stand firm—but that kind of rebellion doesn’t come cheap. It buys you freedom but costs you peace, leaving behind quarrels and the weight of guilt. Still, there’s something to be said for it, this system. A marriage here isn’t just two people trying to make it work. Its success is not left upon the strength of love, strong as love might be. It’s the hopes and ties of many, all pulling to keep the thing together. In my view, it's a bit shortsighted to encourage young people in their twenties to see marriage as something that will hinder their fulfilment or achievements, and then expect that they’ll somehow want to settle down when the time is right. I propose we shift how we perceive marriage, presenting it as a valid option for those in their twenties. Yes, it comes with responsibility and sacrifice, but it also imparts valuable lessons—lessons that my generation conveniently avoids until their thirties, if they marry at all. These are lessons that earlier generations learned much sooner. Our adolescence is drawn out, leaving us self-centred and immature for longer than we should be. I work in the corporate world, surrounded by people who earn well. After paying rent, insurance and other bills, and setting aside money for monthly investments, many are still left with a good chunk of disposable income, which gets funnelled into an endless cycle of consumption—alcohol, clothes, cars, video games, travel. Just the other night, I found myself unable to sleep and, on a whim, ordered two different types of coffee on Amazon. A minute later, I was filled with disgust. We don’t even think twice before indulging these fleeting desires, something our parents, at our age, could hardly afford. They spent more on their children than they ever did on themselves. I remember the first time I bought cinnamon, 100 rupees ($1.19) for 50 grams. It struck me then why my mother had always said it was expensive and to use it sparingly. Suddenly, I realised that back when she and my father were managing a family’s entire expenses, cinnamon was an extravagance, one of the many things that couldn't be taken for granted. It is not lost on me that if young people choose to marry in their early twenties, they might not get to travel as much or have wardrobes as full as we do now. It’s also true that a married couple in their twenties would face more compromises if they decided to pursue a master’s degree or take risks like starting a business after tying the knot. But I’m not convinced that marriage rules out small mistakes or risk-taking altogether. If anything, marrying young gives you a longer road for making mistakes and learning from them. Making the same mistake at the age of 25 is different from making it at 35. By then, the costs are greater, the expectations are higher and the responsibilities are much more. Marriage shouldn’t be seen as something you only enter after life has been fully lived, all of your mistakes have been made, and all the wildness is behind you. Youth, with all its risks and missteps, can be woven into marriage, and perhaps it’s even better that way. The mistakes will be smaller, and subordinate to the higher purpose of nurturing a family and building a home. Sure, you can’t sleep with whoever you please if you’re married, but you can still go on the occasional reckless shopping spree. You might not go on solo trips or clubbing with friends as often, but you can still save up for a family vacation or enjoy a quiet date night with your partner. Fewer hangovers, yes—but that doesn’t mean no fun at all. Encouraging young people to consider marriage—or at least not dismissing the option altogether—could also offer a more thoughtful solution to the challenges posed by birth control. In recent years, we've begun to understand the far-reaching effects of the pill, not only on women’s bodies but also on brain chemistry and even partner selection. Studies have revealed that hormonal contraceptives can influence attraction and relationship dynamics in ways we’re only beginning to grasp. At the same time, we’re seeing a generation that is having less meaningful sex than ever before. So what’s the alternative? Barrier methods, perhaps. But alongside that, shifting the narrative around marriage could be part of a broader, more balanced approach. Marriage, for those in their twenties, need not be seen as the loss of freedom, but as a step that offers both emotional intimacy and stability. It might just be a saner, more human option in a world where deeper connections are becoming increasingly rare. In the end, marriage is not merely an obligation. It is, at its heart, an opportunity—an invitation to grow, to build something enduring. It’s a chance for adventure, for romance, for discovering meaning not just in another person, but in the shared life you create together. It’s a call to take oneself seriously. Somewhere along the way, we seem to have let this truth slip through our fingers. It’s time we remembered. Image Source: Fiddler on the Roof (1971)
5 4
tip thinker
recent image
The Trade-Off in Capitalism
Sadhika Pant
 October 30 2024 at 05:51 pm
more_horiz
post image
Have you ever stood at a point where you are able to agree (to some extent at least) with two opposing sides of a debate? It’s a strange place, uncharted and raw, a land scattered with ideas that you’ve seen from afar but never had the nerve to wrestle down. To walk this line—timidly at first, dipping just a toe into that unknown—is a thrill like no other. The easy road is to dig deeper into what you already know, to fortify your arguments for the side you’re already on. Lately, I’ve been straying into that strange terrain myself, turning over ideas that clash with my own, stretching them out, writing through them. This piece is one such endeavour, and the idea I’ve been contemplating on — capitalism. I suppose, before all else, I should square with where I stand. As someone entrenched in the corporate world, it would be hard to argue against the very framework that sustains my livelihood without sounding like a hypocrite hacking at the branch I’m sitting on. I work in a field that wouldn’t exist as it does without capitalism’s promise of profit, a force that fuels both innovation and competition. I’m inclined to believe capitalism is the most fitting economic system we have. There’s a certain allure to its promise, a belief that the best rise through merit, that opportunity is there for the brave and resourceful to seize. And isn’t it true that many of the comforts we now take for granted—electricity, indoor plumbing, computers, vehicles, refrigerators, air conditioners — are the fruits of a market-driven system that constantly seeks to outdo itself. These aren't just luxuries—they are the standards by which we measure our quality of life. And capitalism has been the most fertile ground for this innovation to grow. Even the critics of capitalism, who lay at its feet problems like environmental degradation, income inequality, poor workplace conditions, and rampant consumerism, are its beneficiaries. Few, if any, would willingly relinquish the comforts of our modern, developed, and thoroughly technological societies—the luxuries, big and small, that capitalism’s engine has afforded. Critics of capitalism are aplenty; I’ve debated with several and pored over the writings of others. What I rarely see, though, is a critique of capitalism that doesn’t rush to present socialism or communism as the alternative. The goal isn’t necessarily to discard capitalism just because it has its share of flaws; rather, it’s to sit with those flaws, to study them long enough that we might carve out solutions. As for the common grievances often pinned on capitalism, I won’t dwell on them here. Heaven knows there’s been enough ink spilled on those already. My complaint with capitalism, one that I feel often slips through the cracks, is the sense of detachment people feel in their workplaces under its demands. Sure, some might argue it’s naïve to attribute this to capitalism’, as people are predisposed to feel discontented with their work now and then. But this detachment isn’t just a byproduct—it’s a structural issue. When profit becomes the sole driver, the value of human experience can get lost in the shuffle, and workers may feel like mere cogs in a vast, unfeeling machine. Capitalism, with its talk of opportunity and self-made success, has an implicit promise —that the individual, through hard work and ingenuity, can find a place where they not only earn a living but derive a sense of purpose. Yet, so often, this promise falls short; instead of a fulfilling vocation, many find themselves caught in a relentless cycle of profit-driven tasks, feeling little connection to the work they do or the people they do it for. So, while capitalism has undeniably lifted the material standard of life, it leaves this question lingering: is there a way for it to serve both the pocket and the soul, to create not only prosperity but genuine fulfilment? We might catch glimpses of restlessness now and then—perhaps in the quiet of a long commute, or in that fleeting moment between tasks. Perhaps we fear that, if we looked too closely, we might find ourselves more entangled than liberated by the very system promising us opportunity and happiness. Still, there’s dignity in a hard day’s work, some structure to the day and savings that will likely get us through retirement, so corporate workers find much to be thankful even in a career path that may not be their ultimate dream. And it’s not as though companies are oblivious to the discontent and detachment their employees experience. Corporate offices, like those I’ve encountered, can be quite remarkable. Many feature buffet-style meals, meditation centres, gyms, lounges filled with video games and ping pong tables, and coffee bars—all aimed at crafting an enticing work environment. At times, it seems these perks are designed to encourage employees to linger longer within the office walls. Companies don’t just market their products to consumers; they also sell their workplace as an attractive lifestyle to their employees. Capitalism leans not only on the visible market economy that drives consumer demand, but also on an unspoken, shadow economy that subtly shapes its producers, drawing them into cycles of labour and loyalty that sustain the very system they serve. The job becomes rebranded, transforming from employment into a complete way of life. I have friends who clock in over 12 hours a day at the office, with little room left for a social life outside of work. Their weekdays revolve around the job; they exercise at the office gym, and on weekends, they unwind with colleagues over beers or participate in office sports leagues, playing cricket on Sundays. This trend seems particularly pronounced among unmarried men and women, who often find their social circles wholly intertwined with their workplace. One might argue that working in such an office is far more enjoyable than toiling away in a place where the only focus is on the grind, where the atmosphere is as drab as the fluorescent lights overhead. Surely, one could contend that at least these companies show some care for their employees’ entertainment and well-being. But should offices really take it upon themselves to fill the void in their employees' lives? Shouldn't the workplace serve its purpose and then step back, allowing employees to reclaim their leisure hours? Imagine if offices operated with fewer demands on their time, granting employees the freedom to cultivate their lives outside the workplace—spending time with family, engaging in social activities, pursuing hobbies, and gathering experiences that enrich their souls. I’ve witnessed colleagues pour their lives into the office culture, yet when conversations shift to their dreams outside of work, there’s a palpable hesitation, as if they’re unsure how to articulate what truly matters to them. I’ll steer clear of commenting on the overused notion of “work-life balance,” a phrase that’s sparked countless heated discussions in corporate circles. Truthfully, I even suspect it’s sometimes stretched too far, serving as a crutch for fresh graduates who feel entitled to high-paying, fulfilling careers without much perseverance or sacrifice. My concern isn’t whether companies overwork their employees; rather, it’s whether these companies should become both the “work” and the “life” of a professional. I don’t particularly challenge the belief that team-building activities and office perks boost productivity over time. Instead, I question whether maximising productivity should eclipse the maximisation of purpose. In the end, the responsibility of finding purpose rests squarely on the individual, as it should. After all, why should the burden of personal goals, creative pursuits, or the search for meaning fall on the shoulders of a profit-driven enterprise? Such enterprises are, by nature, self-serving—whether by crafting a product that few truly need and convincing people otherwise, or by inspiring a sense of grandiosity in their employees, coaxing them into believing they’re part of something monumental, while distracting them with superficial rewards and distractions, and banking on their complacency to stifle any inner voices yearning for something more. For the first time in the history of the human race, work is, for many, no longer a means to an end, but an end in itself, and perhaps, we don’t know how to live with this new reality. “What is the solution?” one might impatiently ask. If there is one, it’s far from foolproof. Perhaps it lies in nurturing our ability to introspect. To read the fine print, if only to avoid the disappointment of waking up two decades later with only faint recollections of neglected hobbies, lost friendships, or those small dreams we once promised ourselves we’d chase someday. Or by making our jobs a smaller part of our lives and our identities, so that we might want more for ourselves. Ultimately, the answer may be simply to want more. More meaning, more purpose, more depth in existence. Image Source: His Girl Friday (1940)
13 8
tip thinker

Trending Topics

Recently Active Rooms

Recently Active Thinkers

open_in_newAll Thinkers

Please confirm your account