The Weight a Boy Carries

Last year, when I was in college, I got my first job. It felt like a turning point in my life a moment of pure joy. I was thrilled, celebrating with my friends, feeling like I was finally stepping into the real world. Life was exciting.

A month later, I received my first salary. That called for a celebration dinner, a party, a night full of laughter with my friends. At that time, I had no idea that this happiness was just the calm before the storm the storm called responsibility.

Everything was going smoothly until, one day, my family sat me down and said, "Now that you're working, you need to start saving for your future." And just like that, the weight of my first real responsibility was placed on my shoulders. I didn’t argue after all, they were right. So, I opened an SIP account and started saving a small amount every month.

But life was still fun back then. I was earning for the first time, so I was eager to explore this new world of freedom. I saw how bachelors live — dinners, clubs, movies, weekend outings. It was all new to me, and I was loving every second of it. Every day was an adventure, every night was a party. Life felt perfect.

A few months passed, and then, out of nowhere, my family dropped the next bombshell. "You should start contributing some of your salary to the household expenses now," they said. And just like that, the second big responsibility landed on me. I was upset not because I didn’t want to help, but because it came without warning, without reason. But it’s family, so I said nothing. I just accepted it.

Time went on. Life continued balancing work, personal expenses, savings, and now family contributions. And then came the third blow questions about my savings.

"How much do you have in your account?"

"That’s all? With your salary, you should have saved much more by now."

It felt like my money wasn’t mine anymore. It felt like my bank account had become a prison, where my salary was locked away, with no freedom to spend it on myself.

Eventually, I switched jobs. With the new job came a salary hike a breath of fresh air, or so I thought. For a brief moment, I felt relief more money meant more freedom, right? Wrong.

The family’s response? "Now that your salary has increased, you should increase your savings too."

Responsibility number three had just gotten heavier. Another SIP was started, and my dreams moved further away.

By now, I was exhausted. Why was my life not mine? Why couldn’t I do things my way? Until now, I hadn’t bought anything for myself — not even a new phone. Every plan, every personal wish, was postponed indefinitely.

Then, one day, out of nowhere, came the biggest shock responsibility number four.

"We are buying a new house. From now on, 60-70% of your salary should go towards that."

I was stunned. I had never even imagined this.

I had simple dreams a new phone, a new bike, a slightly better life, maybe even think about a car someday. But none of that ever happened. Not even close.

What I realized the dreams you build in your mind rarely survive the weight of real-life responsibilities.

When responsibilities come crashing down on you one after the other, you stop thinking about yourself. There’s no space left for your own wishes, your own happiness.

I couldn’t fight it. I just kept doing what they asked because they’re family.

Because responsibilities, once handed to you, are never yours to question only yours to carry.