There’s this funny thing that happens. We spend our entire 20s and 30s in a state of hyper-vigilance, right? We’re like financial commandos, dodging EMI bullets, calculating every chai ki tapri expense, and trying to turn our savings account into a six-pack abs of compounding interest.
We read the books. We watch the videos. We become masters of delayed gratification. We tell ourselves, “No, I don’t need that fancy watch. I don’t need that trip to Goa.” We do it with a noble, almost spiritual conviction.
Our mantra: Save, save, save.
And then, it works.
After a few years, something shifts. The scarcity mindset—the one you worked so hard to cultivate—becomes your default operating system. You’ve successfully reprogrammed your brain from a “spending machine” to a “saving machine.” Mission accomplished. Or so you think.
That’s when the real trouble starts.
Because now, every small, normal joy feels like a crime.
- A simple dinner at a new restaurant? The voice in your head says, “That’s two mutual fund units you just flushed down the toilet.”
- Buying a new shirt from a flea market, just because it’s cool? “You have ten other perfectly good shirts at home, you capitalist pig.”
- Planning a movie night with popcorn and overpriced soda? “You could have watched that on a streaming service later for free, you fool.”
It’s like you’re the owner of a massive water tank you filled up over years of hard work, only to feel guilty every time you use a bucket of water to bathe. It makes no sense. The water is supposed to be used. The money is supposed to bring you some joy.
This might sound like a first-world problem, and I get it. To someone struggling, my inner struggle might look like a superpower. “Oh, you can’t spend money? What a horrible problem to have!” I get it. I really do.
But trust me, it’s a different kind of trap. The trap of over-correcting.
You become so good at putting the brakes on your life that you forget how to let go of the pedal. The same discipline that built your wealth now holds your happiness hostage. The guilt isn’t about the money itself; it’s about breaking a rule you spent years internalizing.
The truth is, learning to spend, to truly enjoy the fruits of your labor without a nagging inner voice, is a skill. It’s a different kind of financial maturity. It means understanding that money isn’t just for stacking and watching grow. It’s also for living.
For the late-night tea with a friend. For the random road trip just because. For the new shoes that make you feel like you can conquer the world. These are not expenses. They are deposits in your emotional bank account.
So, maybe it’s time to recalibrate. Give your inner accountant the day off. Tell the voice in your head, “Chill, bhindi. We earned this.” Because the point of the race wasn’t just to cross the finish line with a full wallet. It was to enjoy the run.
And sometimes, that means stopping for some sugarcane juice on the side of the road.
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