There are only two certainties in life: death and middle-class family dramas. The former is a tragedy, and the latter—well, it’s somewhere between a comedy and a horror film, depending on the day.
I come from a proud, slightly dysfunctional, unapologetically chaotic middle-class Indian family. If you’ve ever lived in one, you know that our lives are governed by three universal truths:
Plastic Is Forever Somewhere in an alternate universe, scientists are baffled that plastic survives for centuries. Meanwhile, in every middle-class home, we have accepted that plastic must be reused until it files a restraining order. Ice cream tubs become storage boxes, biscuit tins transform into sewing kits, and fancy gift-wrapping paper is carefully folded for future use. My mother still has a collection of bags from stores that closed down a decade ago—probably waiting for an archaeological team to discover them.
The Power of Bargaining Forget Wall Street, the real masters of negotiation live among us. My grandmother could bargain a shopkeeper into existential crisis. I once witnessed her reduce the price of vegetables by simply sighing loudly. The guy looked like he was rethinking every financial decision that led him to this moment.
Unsolicited Advice Headquarters If Indian middle-class homes had a tagline, it would be: “Beta, do this.” It doesn’t matter if you’re buying a phone, choosing a career, or ordering food—someone will always have an opinion. My uncle once gave me a 20-minute lecture on why I should never buy white shoes, because “dust will ruin your reputation.” (Still not sure how my entire personality depends on footwear, but okay.)
And let’s not forget marriage suggestions. The moment you hit your twenties, distant relatives you’ve never met will suddenly develop an urgent interest in your wedding. “I know a good boy,” they say, completely ignoring the fact that you’re still trying to survive your Monday deadlines.
At the end of the day, for all the quirky habits and unsolicited life tips, there’s an undeniable warmth to this madness. We fight, we bicker, but ultimately, we stand together—whether it’s hunting down lost Tupperware lids or pretending we have extra income to buy mangoes during peak season.
We may be chaotic, but we’re beautifully, hilariously us.

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