I came across this question on Reddit the other day. It asked something simple, but sharp:
That basically meant: “why do Indian parents keep comparing us with other kids, but can’t take it when their kids do the same?” And it just stopped me. It opened a flood of memories. Because I’ve felt that. Haven’t we all?
The post had that familiar frustration about being compared to toppers, cousins, neighbors, random kids on reality shows and about never being seen for who you are, only for who you could have been if you were “better.”
But what stayed with me more was a comment underneath. It was a long one — written from a parent’s perspective. The person spoke about sacrifice: about how hard it is to raise kids in a country like ours, with no safety nets. How parents push because they’re scared. Because they want us to have what they didn’t. And they do it, not for credit, but out of some quiet, relentless kind of love.
I don’t disagree with that. In fact, I believe it. I’ve seen it. My parents did that too.
But the pain in the original question isn’t about being pushed. It’s about the way it’s done. The comparisons, the mocking, the one-way street where parents can compare you to others, but if you do the same, it’s “disrespect.” That is hypocrisy, even if it comes from love.
Here’s the hard truth most of us carry:
Parents may love us deeply, but they can still hurt us.
And children may resent that hurt, while still loving their parents deeply. Both things can be true.
The response is heartfelt, but it also misses the cry in the question. It shifts the conversation from “this hurt me” to “you’ll thank them later”. That’s like telling someone who’s still bleeding, “Don’t worry, the scar will make you stronger.”
Maybe it will. But right now, they’re just bleeding.
Also, the line – “you’ll understand when you become a parent” – is a bit of a wall. Not every child becomes a parent, and not every parent ends up reflecting. Empathy shouldn’t be delayed until parenthood. It should begin with listening now.
What would have made the answer more complete? If it had said: “You’re right. Comparison hurts. And sometimes we, as parents, forget how deeply. I used to think it was harmless motivation, now I’m learning it’s more complicated. Maybe we all need to try listening to each other better.”
That kind of reply holds both love and accountability. And that’s what’s missing in most homes – not love, but accountability for how that love is expressed.
I’m not writing this as a callout. I’m writing it because I know so many of us grew up like this – quietly confused, quietly aching, quietly trying to forgive and understand both our parents and ourselves.
Maybe this isn’t a solution. Maybe it’s just a mirror. But sometimes, that’s where change begins.
The wound is the place where the light enters you.
— Rumi
Editor’s Note:
This story isn’t about blaming parents or dismissing the love that often hides behind pressure. It’s about naming the hurt that so many students have carried without words.
If you’re a parent reading this, maybe today is a good day to ask your child – gently and openly, “Have there been moments when I compared you to others?”
You may not have meant to hurt them but asking with care and really listening, might heal more than you expect.
Because love isn’t just in the sacrifices we make. It’s also in the conversations we’re willing to have.
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