Why my father wants a 9-to-5 for me

Understanding the generational thinking gap

I read by my balcony every morning. My father joins me thirty minutes into the session, and I instinctively intensify my gaze on the paper, hopefully appearing engrossed enough to dodge another monologue. And that is not for the lack of interest, but because he’s used the same lines enough times for me to have them memorized (with punctuations).

Facing the prospect of his son starting a job, papa has taken it upon himself to deliver daily lectures on ‘safe income’ and the pleasures of service-class lifestyle. Salary — Savings — Mutual Funds has become analogous to Parampara — Pratishtha — Anushasan. And as boring as things sometimes get, I’ve come to appreciate his impulses.

My grandfather was the quintessential success story. He’d moved to Guwahati in the 1960s with pocket-change, slept on government school benches in his initial days, and worked through the turmoil caused by the armed insurgencies of the 1970s and the 1980s to establish a successful business, build a home, and raise a family. My father had followed through, practicing as an Advocate in the Gauhati High Court before taking charge of the business.

Two generations later, my family had progressed enough to afford a spoilt kid that had them buy attire and equipment for cricket, football, taekwondo, and every other sport available at school, only to lose interest in a few weeks and move to the next one. I once cried for a guitar so bad that they got me one by the evening, only to have me never learn to play it.

But for all the good fortune that business had brought us, it also acquainted my father with the stresses, uncertainties, and seasons associated with the trade. My grandfather had no choice but to go in, he had nothing to lose and much to gain. And my father had chosen continuity over career, largely in an effort to provide better for his family. But now, with stable finances, it is natural for him to want a comfortable, even if less exciting, life for me. He still sees me as the kid who’d cry over a bruised knee, and cannot control the impulse to hold my hand when crossing roads.

There’s another aspect to his thinking that might be subconscious. A lot of human thinking is molded by the formative years, and the world wasn’t as full of opportunities when my father was my age. Indian roads had more carts than cars, and a sarkari naukri was indeed the most attainable ticket to a peaceful life. The realities of the time did indeed warrant prudence over passion. In constant company of friends and colleagues from those olden times, it is reasonable for papa to harbor a desire for ‘safety’.

We, particularly the Gen Z, need to understand that we’ve been made into passionate go-getters not just by our enhanced capabilities, but by the enhanced times that we live in. That it is easier to feel motivated for entrepreneurship in the age of Flipkart and Paytm. And that it is easier to quit jobs to pursue passions when jobs are plenty. The generational thinking gap in India is largely due to the rapid economic transformation of the country.

Now, did I bring all of this up with my father? Obviously not. That would’ve called for one extra monologue.