All in the Name of Aging Parents!
Lately, I have noticed an interesting phenomenon among some of my fellow Indians who have spent twenty, thirty, or even forty years in America. After building successful careers, buying homes, raising children, and accumulating considerable wealth, they have suddenly discovered the irresistible charm of India. They are packing their bags and heading back to the motherland. Nothing wrong with that! What fascinates me, however, is the explanation. Almost invariably, it comes wrapped in an emotional story about family, sacrifice, Indian values, and, of course, aging parents.
"I want to spend time with my aging parents." How touching! Someone please bring out the tissues and nominate this gentleman for the Indian Son of the Year Award! But I have one small question. Where were you when your parents were actually growing old? When your father's hair was turning gray, your mother's steps were becoming slower, and their visits to the doctor were becoming more frequent, you were busy building your American dream. Nothing wrong with that either. But did your parents suddenly start aging last Tuesday? Or did you receive an email announcing that the aging process had officially begun and your immediate presence was requested?
Then come the other heartbreaking explanations. "I missed my cousin's wedding. I couldn't attend my uncle's funeral. I missed so many family occasions." Missing a loved one's funeral is genuinely painful, and I would never make light of that. But your cousin's wedding? Really? My friend, if attending every cousin's wedding were a requirement for being a good Indian, half the Indian diaspora would have to resign from their jobs immediately! By the time you attend the last cousin's wedding, the first cousin's daughter will probably be getting married. At this rate, you might as well make wedding attendance your second career!
Another popular explanation is the sudden rediscovery of Indian values. "I want my children to grow up with Indian culture and traditions." Wonderful! But weren't these the same children you raised in America, educated in American schools, and encouraged to pursue American careers? You celebrated when they landed wonderful jobs in Silicon Valley, and now, after thirty years, you have suddenly remembered Indian values! Did someone discover an old suitcase in the garage labeled "Indian Values — Handle With Care"? Respect for elders, kindness, generosity, and family relationships are beautiful values, but surely they don't require an Indian PIN code!
And then comes my favorite: "I want my children to spend time with their grandparents." A beautiful thought, indeed. But aren't you now doing to your own children exactly what you regret having done to your parents? You are moving to India because you missed watching your parents grow old, while your children remain in America and miss watching you grow old! Brilliant! We have solved one generational problem by creating another. And when you turn eighty, will you expect your children to abandon their American lives and move to India? At this rate, the only guaranteed beneficiaries of our family values are international airlines!
Some say they want to reconnect with their roots. Apparently, our roots have a rather interesting financial calendar. They remain remarkably quiet while we are building careers, paying mortgages, and accumulating retirement savings. But the moment our investments mature and the 401(k) looks healthy, the roots suddenly begin calling! "Come home, my son! The soil is waiting!" Others say they miss Indian festivals, family gatherings, and authentic Indian food. Now, if you tell me you are moving to India because you want hot idlis, crispy dosas, and fresh filter coffee without having to cook or clean afterward, I completely understand. I might even help you pack! But please don't describe your craving for pongal as a spiritual awakening.
Now, ladies and gentlemen, let us discuss the one explanation that rarely receives the publicity it deserves. Money! You spent thirty years earning in dollars, investing in American real estate, stocks, and retirement accounts. And then you made a wonderful discovery. Those dollars can go a remarkably long way in India! Depending on where and how you live, a few thousand dollars a month can provide comforts that would cost considerably more in California. In America, you were a successful executive who still had to drag the garbage cans to the curb every Thursday. In India, you could have someone take out the garbage, someone cook your meals, someone clean your house, and perhaps even someone supervise all three! Yesterday, you were clipping grocery coupons. Today, you are practically a maharaja!
And you know what? There is absolutely nothing wrong with that! You worked hard, saved diligently, invested wisely, and earned the right to enjoy your retirement. If you want to live comfortably in India, surrounded by old friends, familiar food, and the luxury your American dollars can buy, congratulations! I would be the first to applaud you. But why must a perfectly sensible financial decision be presented as an extraordinary sacrifice? Why not simply say, "I made my fortune in America, and now I want to enjoy spending it in India!" Beautiful! Honest! I might even ask for your financial advisor's telephone number.
Of course, some people genuinely return to care for parents who need them, sometimes at considerable personal and financial sacrifice. I respect that enormously. And I understand that family, culture, nostalgia, and financial comfort can all be genuine reasons for returning. My objection is not to moving back to India. My objection is to the unnecessary halo some people place around their decision. Not every retirement announcement needs a photograph of elderly parents, sentimental background music, and hundreds of comments proclaiming, "Such a wonderful son!" My friend, you are retiring comfortably in India. You haven't joined Mother Teresa's Missionaries of Charity!
But beyond all the humor, there is one question I genuinely want to ask my fellow Indians. Our parents allowed us to leave India and pursue our dreams. They accepted the distance, missed our presence, and watched us build our lives thousands of miles away. Are we prepared to extend that same freedom to our own children? Or will we expect them to reverse their migration when we become old? We cannot celebrate our independence at thirty and demand our children's geographical loyalty at eighty. Perhaps the greatest family value we can pass on is the freedom to build a meaningful life wherever one's dreams lead.
So, to my fellow Indians returning home after decades in America, I wish you a wonderful retirement. Enjoy the family gatherings, the friendships, the festivals, the freshly prepared dosas, and the comforts your hard-earned dollars can provide. And if spending time with your parents is genuinely your priority, may those years together be beautiful. Just remember, you don't need a noble excuse to make a sensible decision.
"I made my money in America. Now I want to live like a maharaja in India!"
There! Was that so difficult? No violin music, no emotional documentary, and no lifetime achievement award for family values. Just a successful Indian enjoying the fruits of decades of hard work. And frankly, that is a pretty good story all by itself!
P.S. If you are moving back because you missed your cousin's wedding, please check how many unmarried cousins are still left in the family. Otherwise, your peaceful retirement might turn into a full-time wedding attendance program!
P.P.S. And if you are moving back to teach your children Indian values, please inform them first. They might already be busy teaching their own children the American values you spent thirty years helping them acquire!
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