No one really prepares you for the day you move out of your parents’ house.
There is no ceremony. No official announcement that says, “You are an adult now.” It happens quietly — through packed suitcases, folded clothes, and one last look at a room that held every version of you.

It has been three years for me now since I moved out of my parents’ house and started living alone.
And in these three years, I have heard many opinions.

Some people my age and older still live with their parents, well into their thirties. And often, the explanation given is culture. “That is how Indian culture is.” “Moving out is a Western concept.”

I have always found myself questioning that.

Is it really?

Because if that were true, how did my grandfather — and so many others from his generation — move from small towns to big cities like Mumbai, dreaming of a better life, better work, and bigger opportunities?
How was that not part of our culture? How was that not courage?

I sometimes feel that culture becomes a shield — not to protect values, but to avoid discomfort.
To avoid confronting the fear of independence, loneliness, or self-responsibility.

Moving out takes guts.

It means choosing a lifestyle where you are responsible for everything — groceries, rent, cleanliness, laundry, bills, repairs, emotions, and silence.
And yet, in society, it is often described as “cutting ties” with parents.

That part confuses me the most.

Because the more I have lived alone, the closer I have felt to my family — just in a different way.

I remember my mother’s cooking more now than I ever did while living at home. I call her to ask for recipes I never bothered to learn earlier. Sometimes those calls turn into one-hour video calls just to make sure the dish turns out right.

I call my father to ask how to fix a pressure cooker or tighten a tap — even though the internet exists. Somehow, asking him feels easier, warmer, more familiar.

I ask my grandmother how she used to drape her sarees because I want to wear them the way she did. I talk to my sibling — maybe not for practical help, but for gossip, comfort, and shared memories.

Living away has not distanced me from my family. It has made me notice them more.

Yes, living alone means handling everything yourself.
Yes, it is exhausting at times.
Yes, staying with parents is financially easier.

But living independently teaches you things that comfort never does.

It unlocks parts of you that you did not know existed. It holds up a mirror — showing you your vulnerable side, your impatient side, your capable side.
And I think many people are afraid of meeting themselves that honestly.

When someone has never handled groceries, never paid a bill, never cleaned a house, never cooked a full meal — not because they cannot, but because someone always did it for them — independence feels threatening.

And no, this is not gender-specific. It should not be. But we all know reality is not always that balanced.

Imagine two people.

Person A lives with their parents, which is perfectly fine, but has no idea how the household functions. No idea what groceries cost, where to buy essentials, how to manage a home independently.

Person B lives fifteen minutes away from their parents. Knows how to manage a house, host people, take responsibility, make decisions, and still shows up for family when needed.

Who is really more independent? Who is really more prepared for life?

Choosing where and how to live is personal. There is no single correct path. Staying with parents is not wrong. Moving out is not rebellion.

But having the option to live on your own, to experience life independently, while still having parents by your side — that feels like balance to me.

Moving out is not about rejecting where you come from.
It is about becoming someone who can stand on their own feet and still bow their head in gratitude.

You do not leave home to escape it. You leave home to understand it better.

And maybe that is the real growth no one talks about.
I would love to know your thoughts.
If you had the choice, would you move out and live alone, or does living with parents feel right for you?

While the night settles in and my late–night thoughts kick open the door, here I am again — thinking of the one thing that scares every human more than ghosts, heartbreaks, and even WhatsApp last-seen updates… greed.

What really happens when greed hits you?
When you know you can make money, achieve something big, or get what you want… but the path to it feels wrong? How far can you go from your own eyes just to win?

I am not naïve — I know the world has bad people, shortcuts, and tricks. Things don’t always work the way we wish. But one thing I have always believed in, deeply, stubbornly, is karma.

And not the “someone hurt me so let me hurt them back” kind.
That’s not karma — that’s ego wearing a mask.

Karma doesn’t need your help.
Karma doesn’t need your revenge.
Karma simply holds everyone accountable in its own time.

Sometimes you don’t see someone’s downfall publicly because people hide their pain behind pride, family, reputation, or fear. You never really know what someone is going through behind closed doors. So thinking “they got away with it” is never the full truth.

I am not saying lose your fire or your ambition. Dream big. Work hard. Want more for yourself.
But wanting more and becoming greedy are not the same thing.

Achieving 80% with a calm heart is better than achieving 100% by hurting people — and living with that stain forever. I’ve grown up hearing one line from elders: “Collect blessings, not curses.”

And honestly, it’s true.
You will be the villain in someone’s story someday — I am too.
But how many stories? How many times? And for what reasons? That matters.

The world says, “People are not good anymore,” but whenever I have lost direction, someone always shows up to help me. Whenever I have felt hopeless, something shifts the next morning. Whenever I think “I can’t,” somehow I manage.
There’s a power — call it God, universe, energy, anything — that holds me when I fall, guides me when I am lost, and feels my pain louder than I do.

So maybe I won’t earn 100%. Maybe I’ll just earn 80%.
But if that 80% lets me look myself in the mirror and feel peace, maybe that’s exactly my purpose.

Because greed can take you places — but it can’t keep you happy there.
And unkindness might get you the win — but it won’t let you sleep at night.

I don’t know how life works fully… but one thing I am certain about:
Greed doesn’t end in a happy ending. Kindness usually does.