Home ? In my life, that’s just a word. Not a place, not a person—just a word. Because for me, home is no one.
No matter how much you do for your family, it’s never enough. The taunts never stop, the comparisons never end. You could break your back trying to earn respect, and still, they’ll find a way to make you feel like a failure.
Even after everything I’ve achieved—this job, this title, this so-called success—I’m still not good enough. I’m not the golden child. I’m not like my cousin or my father's friend’s genius son.
That’s how life works. If you’re not successful by a certain age, society writes you off. But worse—your own family joins in. They stop asking if you’re okay and start asking why you’re not like someone else.
And if—if—you finally make it? If you build yourself from the ground up and reach every milestone they once prayed for? Even then, it’s not enough.
You’re still not enough.
Because in their eyes, you’re either perfect or a disappointment. And I… I’m just tired of chasing a version of myself they’ll never accept.
I was having dinner with my family after a long, draining day.
“Did you hear? Nehal got promoted. He’s moving to New Jersey,” Aai said to baba, who simply nodded as he ate.
“Nehal is just 25 and already working abroad with a promotion. Meanwhile, our son is stuck in the same manager post for years,” Aai added, shaking her head in disappointment.
The bite I had just taken got stuck in my throat—but her words, they stabbed deeper.
“ Aai ,dada is trying,” my younger brother Vignesh said, trying to defend me.
“Don’t start with me. You’re both the same. We raised you from nothing, and this is what we get in return?” Aai said
“Then who told you to give birth?” Vignesh snapped.
“VIGNESH!” Baba's voice thundered through the room.
Vignesh stood up, eyes burning. “Can we not have just one peaceful dinner, Aai? Every day you compare us to someone else's child. We’re trying. Dada is doing overtime. I’m working hard too. But you don’t see our effort—you only see what we’re not.”
Aai’s voice trembled as she began to cry. “Look at how he talks to me now. I didn’t raise you two to see this day.”
“Aai, we never asked you to raise us. And if you did—it was your responsibility. That doesn’t give you the right to throw it in our face every time.”
He stormed off, slamming the door behind him.
I stood up silently, picked up my plate, and walked to the kitchen. I placed it in the sink and just… stood there.
I drank water and walked towards Vignesh's room.
“ You shouldn't talk to her like this.” I said sitting beside him.
“ So what dada , everyday it's everyday drama. No matter how much you sacrifice aai and baba they are never gonna get satisfied.” he said
I lay on the bed staring at the ceiling.
“ Dada ,I have made a decision.” He said laying beside me
I hummed to continue
“ I'm going to move out." He said
I snapped at him , “ What?”
“ I can't handle this everydays drama , aai and Baba are never gonna get satisfied,after moving out at least I would live peacefully.”
“ Have you looked for the apartments?” I asked
Vignesh nodded, his eyes fixed on the ceiling just like mine.
“Yeah… last week. There’s a 1BHK near my office. It’s not that big, but it’s enough for peace of mind.”
I stayed silent for a moment, letting his words sink in. The thought of him leaving felt like a slap—but a part of me understood him. Fully.
“You’ll leave me here to handle everything alone?” I finally asked, voice low.
He turned to look at me. “You were never meant to handle it alone, dada. You just took it all because you love them too much.”
“I still do,” I whispered. “No matter how many times they hurt me.”
“I love them too, but loving someone shouldn’t mean losing yourself.”
I didn’t reply. Because maybe… maybe he was right.
“You’ll come to visit, right?” I asked, half-teasing, half-serious.
He chuckled softly, “Only if you make rajma chawal.”
That made me smile. “Done. But if you screw up, I’m dragging you back here.”
He laughed, “Fair enough.”
I wish I had guts like you Vignesh,I wish I also move out but if we both move out then who is gonna look after them. I thought.
“ Dada ,why don't you get married?” He asked suddenly.
“ Aata mazhya lagnacha vishay achanak kuthun aala?" “ Now from where does my marriage topic come from?” I asked
He chuckled , “ C'mon dada you are already 28 you should get married.” He teased
” Marriage is a responsibility ,after I get married one more person is gonna add to our family.”
“ Dada if you get married then please choose the girl you want not who aai and baba choose because what if she turns out like them."
I looked at him, surprised by his words. His face was calm but there was a storm in his eyes—a reflection of my own fears.
“Kay boltoy tu?” “ What are you saying?” I asked softly.
He turned to me, voice firm. “I’m serious, dada. You’ve already spent your whole life adjusting for them, for us. Don’t do the same with your marriage. At least let that be your choice, your peace.”
I exhaled deeply. “Aai and baba won’t agree.”
“Then don’t ask for their permission. Just inform them.”
I smiled faintly, the weight of his words heavy on my heart. If only it were that easy.
“I don’t even know what kind of girl I want,” I admitted.
“You’ll know,” he said, placing a hand on my shoulder. “She’ll be someone who doesn’t want perfection. Someone who makes you feel like… home.”
“Home?” I scoffed lightly.
He smiled. “Yeah. A home that doesn’t judge you, doesn’t compare you… just understands you.”
I stared at the ceiling again, the word home replaying in my mind. Maybe it still exists. Maybe in someone. Just not here.
“Sleep now, dada,” he teased, nudging me.
I chuckled. “Only if you stop talking like a Bollywood script writer.”
We laughed, and for the first time in a while, the silence between us didn’t feel heavy.
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