Am I Becoming My Indian Parents? The Evergreen Topic of Inflation and the Role it Plays in South Asian Socialization

As a first generation South Asian immigrant, it wasn’t uncommon for us to hear our parents frequently discuss finances. Whether it was with friends, family, or directed directly at the television news, it was a common topic in Indian households across the board.

The overpriced subzis at the store, feeling robbed anytime we had to fill the car with gas. How could eggplant have gone up $.20 overnight? And tomatoes? Don’t get us started. 

As children, we grew up to think our parents were cheap, they would never be satisfied with their salaries, bank balance, and we would have to hear these complaints for the rest of our lives. 

Growing up, I wanted to be the type of child that did extracurricular activities year round, the one that I was most passionate about was dance, and when a new, shiny studio opened up across the street, I nagged my father until I lost my voice, “papa please, I want to dance” and he gave in.

I started my first acro/ballet class when I was ten, and although I felt like everyone was better than me, I was as happy as could be knowing that I was doing something I loved. When the 2008 recession hit, my parents lost their business and I was abruptly taken out of dance classes, told my parents could no longer afford the monthly fee, I sobbed.

“We have to save for your marriage too, don’t we?”

I felt anger, resentment, frustration, after that, I joined free extracurriculars like debate club after school, but I always felt a void. 

When I came to college I joined Rutgers Bhangra and reignited my love of dance, only for it to be soiled by politics and mean girls. When I graduated college, and began to earn my own income, I thought I would be able to afford dance classes for myself, but only then did I realize what my parents had gone through.

I moved to Jersey City, NJ, where the city was steps away and my friends were a short PATH ride away. I thought I had made it, I’m out of the house and I can do as I wish, spend as I wish. After a few months in a very overpriced city, I quickly began to empathize with the decisions my parents made over ten years ago.

Nowadays anytime I meet up with friends one of our primary discussion topics are our expenses, how have eggs become so expensive, and why is rent so absurd in this area? Our conversations began to revolve around proposals, marriages, the cost of a ring, a home, how will any of us afford children? And that’s when it dawned on me…I’ve become my father.

At the ripe age of 27, I look forward to quiet evenings on the couch, opt to cook at home rather than go out and drop $50 on a meal that won’t even fill me up, and I contribute more to my Roth IRA than I spend on myself.

When I turn on my 8am Cheddar News segment, I hear about inflation, our ongoing recession, and I also want to scream at the TV, “WE”RE TRYING OUR BEST” and it still just never seems like it’s enough.

In the households of other ethnicities finances may seem like a taboo topic, but I’m grateful that in our community it’s something openly discussed. My parents never kept me in the dark as to their financial situation, they didn’t hide their struggles from me, and through that transparency I was able to absolve my resentment and move forward with respect, even pride for who my parents were and how difficult of a life they endured to get me here. We’re all just trying our best, and sometimes, that’s enough.

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