It's For Your Future

Growing up, every time I got cash as a gift, it was deposited in my bank. I kept being told “It will help me in the future.” For the first 18 years of my life, I lived with my parents, and one thing I heard repeatedly was that this money was being saved for my future. In the 80s-90s, whatever we had, I’m sure my upbringing was definitely middle class. A part of me might have internalized it too much, so I didn’t think I should throw a tantrum for what I wanted. I just learned to be happy with what I had. I might ask for small things, and I generally got them, and I was content with most of it.

I was an anomaly, that’s for sure, because in India, a single male child is almost always a spoiled brat. Every teacher of mine, upon learning I was a single child, was shocked that I wasn’t. Maybe I should have been more demanding; perhaps it would have been better, instead of me constantly trying to figure out where I could help save money… yup, for the future. I loved books; I certainly got a lot of them. But I would self-justify it by thinking: ‘I don’t want firecrackers, so why not ask for books on Diwali?’ ‘This is super cool,’ I’d think, ‘it might be expensive, so perhaps not worth actually asking for. Maybe I can just ask for another book instead.’

I think I was a perfect kid, sitting in a corner reading, lost in my own world, not causing any tantrums.

Once I left for college, I opted for something that wasn’t my parents’ first choice. They wanted me to be a doctor - Why? Because when I was 3 or 4, I would repeat from a picture book, ‘I’m Lee, I’m a doctor.’ At some point, their projection just made it feel like, ‘I guess that’s what I want to be.’ Did I enjoy biology? Definitely. I enjoyed science and math, and I didn’t think there was any other option. Not to mention that people who take up Arts or Humanities aren’t really celebrated in the country. STEM is the only option, so when that narrative is fed to you over and over again—and when you add to it, ‘Oh wow, you’re so smart, you’re meant to do this’ - you can’t really think you can do anything else. So I obviously started preparing for medical entrance from 8th grade. I think I knew I wasn’t really meant to do it, but it wasn’t something that was going to be up for discussion. I remember that when most of the entrance exams were over, I didn’t really clear for Medical (though I could have used the rank for Dental). But since the latter wasn’t as exciting for my parents, they could be convinced that no, I didn’t want to do that.

So we started looking at the engineering entrances I cleared. I managed to clear a few, and some had exorbitant tuition fees; you’d think all the money being saved for the future could come to use here. Anyway, another result came out: I could study in Bangalore. The tuition and hostel rent were lower, and it was a better choice, since my cousin was in the city too. But as Karnataka usually does, there’s always new drama when it comes to people coming to study or work there, and that year, students were being targeted. It’s a story on its own, and I definitely saw my parents trying to fight the system for me. (There are times where I do appreciate them, and this was one of those times.)

At some point, I felt it might be a sign from God. Just as a conversation, I’d pointed out that maybe if they really wanted me to be a doctor, I could drop a year and prepare for the next year’s entrance. My mother didn’t like the idea and generally berated anyone and everyone considering such an option. So in her pursuit to make sure her son didn’t lose a year, she found some random government quota offering Chem. Eng. I was somewhat fine with it, because, for one, I could escape home. For two, of all the STEM courses, Chem. E. seemed somewhat interesting enough for me. Well, it was a fascinating 10-day experience before we found out the Karnataka government had reworked its policy, and I could apply for a college in Bangalore again. So we got that done and moved there. I suppose all the money that was saved for the future might have finally come to use during the four years there.

Again, I’m surprised I didn’t really go wild and just spend money on things. But whatever little money I would get for the month, I’d never once tell them that it was over, instead waiting 7-10 days until the first of the next month for my allowance. Dad once scolded me that I should ask for money when I ran out of it. However, when you also had to listen to how Dad had to leave his work because of all the trips related to my college, and how he was missing out on his income, it was hard to ask. Part of me still thinks dropping a year might have been better. Maybe I would have actually understood I didn’t want to be in STEM; I would have rather taken up something in a creative field, on my own. Or I might have just done myself in being stuck with them for another year. So for better or for worse, Bangalore was a good middle ground. I was roommates with Architecture students, and I used to love seeing their work and courses. (Honestly, I often helped them finish bunch of their assignmetns). I think I started realizing my interest was more in something creative rather than science, but it was still an inkling thought.

Over the four years, I realized I could not do a regular 9-5 job as an engineer or anything, and an easier way to escape that was to do a Master’s and then maybe a PhD abroad. (Part of me was still trying to be as far away from my parents.) s luck would have it, I managed to get into an IIT for an integrated Master’s + PhD course, which meant I was meeting most of my expenses with my scholarship. I even saved up and got myself a DSLR. That was a turning point for multiple reasons. The way academia works is just another form of bureaucracy, especially when you’re working on a topic your professors aren’t attuned to. They really can’t help out like they can their other students. So, especially when you have to wait one month to see your experiment-related results and you can only test 4 samples, it’s even more frustrating. (This is one of the things I’ve wanted to write about for a long time: the research that should go into choosing a post-graduate program before you jump in.) I digress, but the idea, again, was that the money saved for the future wasn’t really needed to be tapped into and could be further used.

So I started moonlighting as a photographer and I started saving up some money, for the future. Since I still needed to focus on my degree (because my parents would be so proud of it), I would just take small projects, and sadly, for way less than I should have charged, even as a beginner. But you do realize that a lot of people you want to work with are like, ‘Let’s do this for less, and then for future work, you can charge more.As I wised up to this trick, it also meant that I wouldn’t take up a lot of work because someone would always undercut me. Anyway it didn’t matter so much as I still didn’t have to worry about rent or other expenses since most of it was met with the scholarship.

At some point, I moved out of the hostel and in with S, and that’s when getting more work started to matter. I did manage to get work often, except for the one issue all freelancers experience. Nobody wants to settle invoices on time. I was somewhat lucky enough to find some clients who would pay on time, and some who would give an advance, which helped balance out the ones who took forever to pay.

At this point, I first considered upgrading my camera and went the Amazon route. Big mistake; there was a lot of drama. We did get the money back, and I just chalked it up to the universe not wanting me to block my money into it. A few years later, a friend asked me to work on projects—mostly production-related work with them—and it was a good gig. I got to work on ad films and stop-motion animation, and honestly, these projects paid handsomely. I could save up some for the future while I could invest some in the present. So, when the friend asked me if I’d like to join them on their other startup venture, I honestly had faith in the team as well as in the product, and I said yes.

I made a mistake, which I can trace back to the ‘saving for the future’ phenomenon from childhood. When offered to work as a partner, I was offered sweat equity, but instead, I would be paid somewhat less in the present. I was literally just making the bare minimum to run things. Then COVID hit, and I was kind of grateful for the regular income; I still had faith in the project paying big in the future. So I could soldier on. Fast forward a few years, we managed to get some mid-sized projects. As my minimum requirement went up, I could ask for a raise to manage things. So finally, when the startup seemed to be running out of steam, we hit a crossroads where I was hoping for a future, putting my sweat into something that could have gone big and paid off handsomely, but instead, we lost a major client, which then meant being asked to manage for a few months as they were trying to roll into a different project. The sweat poofed into thin air.

FA few months later, I felt that whatever differences my parents and I had, they were trying to make amends or seem more accepting. They would have conversations like, ‘Oh, why don’t all four of us go to Australia? And don’t worry, we’ll pay for it all!’—which would make you think they had the money. Perhaps the money they had saved up was for this current future. So, I thought, maybe if I could ask them to help me upgrade my equipment and invest in myself, I could actually use some of the money saved for the future now, when I actually needed it. I was told they didn’t have any money. Instead, perhaps I should just get a normal, entry-level job in some engineering firm. Perhaps I could just walk around to these companies with my CV and ask them for a job. It was like all those memes playing out in front of my eyes.

Somehow, they were always telling me, ‘Ah, you want to do photography? Maybe you can go study it for a few years, and we can pay for the whole tuition.’ But asking them for monetary help just showed their true colors. Thanks to even more exasperating conversations in the following weeks, the relationship just went from bad to worse. Then, out of the blue, they messaged to say they had sold one of their houses… I doubted it was so they could help me, but perhaps so that this money could be there in the future, when I’m old and need help. There was a follow-up conversation where they offered to buy me equipment from the gray market¹, since it would be cheaper and ‘just as good’ (unless it failed during the warranty period). And, ‘Yup,’ they said, ‘the rest of the money can help you in the future when you need it.

I tried to discuss the status of my PPF, and they pointed out they were hoping it could stay there so it could help me in the future when I’m old.

I’m not sure why parents feel that we must save for the future when we will need it, rather than now, when we do need it to upgrade and update our means of work. Is my choice to starve today so that I can be safe in the future, when I might not even be around? Is that the vision they have for their son?

The last year has been tough, and S has done a lot to keep us afloat, especially during the periods when there hasn’t been constant work or long waiting periods for payment to clear. I’m truly lucky to have her in my life.

I know I wrote a lot, and if you’ve read up to this point, let me give you a picture of a pretty bird.

An Indian Roller.

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Oh and if you can relate, feel free to buy me a ko-fi or pick something from the shop, or get a print from Darkroom, so I can use the money in the present to make money for the future!