Tag: raising children

The Many Races of Childhood and Why I Choose to Slow Down


When I was a kid, life was simpler. We had one or two races to run—maybe a 100-meter dash at school, or the occasional race to grab a front-row seat on a bus ride. But today’s kids?

They’re sprinting in every direction.

  • A race in academics
  • A race in sports
  • A race in arts — music, dance, painting, coding… you name it.

Yesterday, I accompanied my daughter to her football zonals. I love watching her play, but what caught my attention wasn’t the game—it was the sidelines.

One parent was passionately talking about his daughter. She’s a topper in taekwondo, athletics, football, badminton. He wasn’t bragging but he was relentlessly calculating. He had recently moved her from her existing badminton club (where my daughter trains) to a “better” one, calling ours mediocre. You could see the pressure in his eyes and probably in his daughter’s shoulders too. He was pushing her to conquer all the milestones he missed in his own childhood.

Then there’s a friend of mine, a doting father. He’s got his daughter enrolled in every possible online class from Odo, Hindi, math, coding. He proudly told me she’s a Hindi pandit at 12. I casually mentioned, “Languages are beautiful, but if not practiced, they fade.” That offended him. He insists I’m being inefficient as a father because I don’t push my daughter like he does his.

Let me be clear—I’m not saying they’re wrong.

Their intentions come from love. They want to give their kids a better life, a stronger start, and more opportunities. But here’s my honest question:

Why make them run in every race?

Why can’t a child just choose one path—be it football, painting, dance, math—and go deep into it? Why must we chase breadth when they crave depth?

Childhood is not a battleground of unfinished parental dreams. It’s a playground for self-discovery.

We all want our children to succeed. But what if success isn’t standing on the winner’s podium in five fields at once? What if it’s simply being joyful, curious, and deeply good at one thing they actually  love?

In a world full of rat races, I choose to let my daughter jog, walk, pause, even skip… as long as she enjoys the journey.

When Parenting Engulfs You: My Silent Struggle Raising Two Young Kids Alone


Finding joy, even in the hardest days.

When people see a smiling parent with a child on each arm, they often think of joy, completeness, and warmth. But behind that photo, there can be stories of exhaustion, frustration, and a kind of loneliness that’s hard to describe.

From the very beginning, even before our second child was born, there were challenges. My in-laws strongly believed that having a second child was a bad idea, and they convinced my wife the same. Every time there’s an argument between us now, this topic comes back: that she didn’t fully analyze the challenges ahead. It makes me angry because, in my heart, I always believed I didn’t want to raise a single pampered child. I wanted my first child to have a sibling, a lifelong companion. This decision was never just about me — it was about building a family with deeper bonds, even if it meant going through harder days.

From the day my second child was born, life changed completely. We had no support system. No parents or in-laws stepping in to help, no extended family to call on, no trusted house help to share the load. It was just us, and every day felt like a survival mission.

People often say, “it takes a village to raise a child.” With my first child, I had that village. My in-laws supported us, and those memories felt like heaven — a beautiful, light-filled chapter of parenting. But with my second child, that village was gone. I became everything: the caretaker, the cook, the cleaner, the comforter, the entertainer, the teacher. From sleepless nights to endless school preparations, every moment demanded my full energy and presence.

In the process, my professional life took a huge hit. I went into procrastination because of constant mind fog. Work deadlines felt heavier, focus slipped away, and important opportunities quietly passed me by. My business struggled, and while outsiders only saw the missed targets and failures, they didn’t see the mental battles and emotional exhaustion that led me there.

At home, the constant focus on the kids created a silent gap with my spouse. Conversations turned into pure logistics: who would handle which meltdown. The small, loving moments that kept our bond alive quietly faded, replaced by stress and quiet resentment.

Yet despite all the anxiety, frustration, and helplessness, I cherished every moment with my second child. Even in the chaos, I found joy. I built precious memories, laughed through exhaustion, and watched my child grow closely every single day. It truly felt like a heaven inside a hell — beautiful moments glowing in the middle of struggle and darkness.

With support, those years could have been even better, perhaps closer to the lightness I experienced with my first child. But despite everything, I wouldn’t trade those moments for anything.

Parenting is beautiful, but when done alone and without support, it can swallow you whole. If you’re going through this, I want you to know: you’re not alone. You deserve understanding, you deserve support, and you deserve to cherish those beautiful moments without the heavy weight of judgment.