We Are Boys, Sir

A boy was born in a middle-class family, in a home where love existed, but dreams were always measured. Where desires had a cost, not just in money, but in endless scoldings, in being told, "You don’t need this." A home where the weight of expectations was far heavier than any burden he could carry.

As a child, he watched other kids in his neighborhood play with remote-controlled cars, their laughter echoing through the streets. He wished for one too, but knew better than to ask. "We don’t waste money on such things," he was told. Festivals came and went, but the colorful boxes of new toys never arrived at his doorstep. School was no different no fancy notebooks, no magic compasses, just old books passed down from seniors.

If he insisted on something, like a new bicycle, it didn’t come easily. First, there were days of pleading, then compromises"Not the one you want, this one is cheaper." Every small wish came with a struggle, every joy was half-earned and half-lost in the process.

And then came the pressure of studies.

Board exams were not just about passing; they were about proving something. "At least 90% marks," they said. "Otherwise, what future do you have?" The weight of numbers crushed him, but he never resisted. He was not supposed to. When he scored well, a new expectation arose"Choose science. Become an engineer or a doctor." His dreams, if they existed, were never asked about.

College was supposed to be freedom, but it wasn’t. Exams, placements, more pressure. The fear of not securing a job loomed over him like a shadow. It was exhausting, suffocating. The only relief? Friends. The moments spent laughing, sharing fears, joking about life’s miseries it was the only thing that kept him sane. Because at home, there was no space for such conversations.

Money was always a subject of discomfort. He could never ask for personal expenses without guilt. "Why do you need money?" was always the first question. Pocket money? Nonexistent. If he needed something, it had to be justified. "You’re wasting money again?" was the inevitable response. Even a small desire, like going out with friends, felt like a crime. If he did ask, it came with an argument, a lecture, and a reminder of sacrifices made for him.

Then came the job a moment of pride, yet another source of pressure. The joy of earning was overshadowed by workplace stress, the demands of a boss, the exhaustion of responsibilities. And at home? "You have a job now, you should help more." There was no end to expectations. No room to breathe.

And love? Love was an unspoken taboo. If a girl was his friend, it was a problem. If he spoke to one too often, questions arose. "Who is she? Why are you talking to her so much?" Having a female friend felt like an offense, as if he was violating some sacred family rule. Even when he found someone, she eventually moved on, married someone else, and he was left with nothing but memories.

Because that’s how life was for him. For boys like him.

Struggles didn’t end. They only changed forms. Childhood was about toys he never got, teenage years were about expectations he never set, adulthood was about responsibilities he never chose. He carried everything. And he endured.

Because he was a boy. And boys don’t complain. They just survive.