The fatigue behind the shine, away from the homeland, breathing in instalments – the pain of migration, the home is ours, but the country is alien.
As glamorous as the lives of Indians living abroad appear, they are equally full of struggle. The story of Rajesh Nandal, a Canadian resident, reveals this reality—while there are high-end apartments and amenities, every breath is burdened by instalments. The distance from family, rising expenses, and memories of his homeland exhaust him to the core. This story is that of every Indian expatriate who loses emotional stability in pursuit of financial stability—because the truth is that even breathing abroad comes in instalments.
Today I had to see a physiotherapist. Before making an appointment, you have to choose a time and person from an online panel. Three names appeared on the screen—I noticed one of them sounded Indian. A natural thought came to my mind—”Well, it must be someone from my country.” Meeting your countrymen while living abroad always provides a unique sense of intimacy. I finalized that name.
The appointment was set for 11:30 p.m. The next morning, I arrived at the appointed time. As she approached me, I could tell from her easy smile and accent that she was Indian. As we began our conversation, I discovered she was from a village near me. It was as if the distance vanished in an instant, and we began a heartfelt conversation.
Her name was Rajesh Nandal. She explained that she had studied nursing at a medical college in India, passed the exam, and then moved to Canada in search of better opportunities. But upon arriving, she faced a stark reality: the Canadian government doesn’t recognize Indian diplomas. So, to get a job, she had to redo her physiotherapy diploma here.
Rajesh said with a smile, “Studying and taking exams here aren’t easy, but I had the passion to do something, so I did it. Now I work as a physiotherapist, but the challenges aren’t over.”
I asked, “Do you work full time?”
She said, “No, I have two daughters right now—the older one goes to school and the younger one is in day care. So, I can’t work a full day. I take hourly shifts. I drop the older one off at school, then drop the younger one off at day care and go to work. I pick them both up in the evening and return home.”
There was a glimpse of a normal routine in his words, but there was an echo of struggle behind every sentence.
Then he slowly began to unravel the layers of his life –
“We came here twelve years ago. Things were fine then, and expenses were manageable. Five years ago, we bought a house here. Buying a house is every NRI’s dream—it seems like it will symbolize our settlement and stability. But now, that very house has become our biggest challenge.”
I asked, “Why?”
She said, “Earlier, interest rates were low. Then, suddenly, the bank interest rate increased. Now, the monthly instalment has doubled. The house, car, children’s education, insurance, and daily expenses have increased so much that if both of us, husband and wife, don’t work, it becomes impossible to run the household.”
He added with a slight laugh – “Here it seems that even breathing happens in instalments.”
I froze at that sentence. It contained both pain and reality.
Rajesh further said –
“After buying the house, we haven’t been able to visit our loved ones in India. We used to visit our family back home once every two or three years, but now it’s been five years. Ticket prices have risen so much that even a round trip for a family is prohibitively expensive. Then, when we go back, gifts for family, clothes, and children’s things—all of this adds up to so much expense that we have to save for months. But where can we save here?”
His eyes were filled with tears.
“Our family thinks we’ll be very comfortable living abroad, but how can we tell them that even though we work hard day and night, we’re just living off instalments. For us, ‘saving’ is just a word. Every month begins with hope and ends with worry about how we’ll pay next month’s instalments.”
I asked – “Do the girls meet their grandparents?”
She said, “No, they’ve only seen him on video calls. Neither of them has ever been to India. The younger one just looks at the screen and says, ‘Is this Nana from India?’ It makes me sad, but what can I do? The mountain of expenses keeps us tied down.”
Rajesh remained silent for some time, then said –
“Sometimes we wish we hadn’t bought a house. Perhaps we would have been more at peace if we had rented. Owning a home was a joy, but then responsibilities bound us. Now, even if we sell it, we’ll incur a loss, and if we keep it, the instalments will suffocate us.”
Somewhere in his voice, the pain of every Indian expatriate was reflected.
Indians living abroad are often considered financially stable, but their emotional world always remains incomplete.
This story isn’t just about Rajesh, but about millions of Indians who earn their living through hard work in Canada, the United States, Australia, Europe, or the Gulf countries. They become part of society there, but their roots remain in India. Deep within their hearts, they always yearn to return one day, but circumstances prevent them from doing so.
This is the biggest irony of migrant life –
People who reach the land of dreams get trapped in their own dreams.
Rajesh said, “We have everything here—good roads, amenities, systems, but there’s not the same sense of belonging that we get in our own country. We celebrate festivals here, but where is that joy? We light lamps on Diwali, but the memories of home burn in our hearts. The children have grown up in this environment; they may never experience the earthly feeling that connects us to our motherland.”
He continued, “Whenever my mother says on a video call, ‘Come this time, son,’ my eyes fill with tears. But vacations are limited, expenses are exorbitant, and the system here is so strict that even if I really want to, I can’t fly.”
His words shook me to my core. I felt like this wasn’t just Rajesh’s story—it was the story of every Indian who has left their roots in search of a better future abroad.
Rajesh’s words—”Here, even breathing comes in instalments”—are not just a sentence, but a complete philosophy of modern migrant life. This sentence reveals that while there is a search for economic stability, there is also a deep emotional instability.
There’s a strange paradox in the lives of Indian expatriates—everything seems rosy on the outside, but the lines of struggle deepen inside. Their everyday becomes a calculation of responsibilities.
From morning to night, they manage to survive amidst the hustle and bustle—on one hand, a job, on the other, a family; on the one hand, a dream home, on the other, memories of their motherland.
Their life is a constant compromise –
Between dreams and reality, pleasure and duty, mind and society.
After this conversation, Rajesh’s words echoed in my ears for a long time after I returned home. I thought—perhaps this is the fate of the modern immigrant.
Living for home even while being away from home.
Feeling the absence of loved ones despite having every facility.
Despite keeping track of monthly income, one suffers loss of emotional relationships.
After listening to Rajesh’s story, I felt that it might be easy to settle abroad, but it is very difficult to settle the mind.
