In the grand saga of the Indian family, there’s no shortage of love, traditions, and the occasional melodrama. It’s a place where everyone has a role to play, a script to follow, and God forbid anyone deviates from it. The family structure, often hailed as the bedrock of Indian society, is a complex web of expectations, comparisons, and unspoken rules that everyone just seems to 'know', whether they like it or not. But beneath the surface of this seemingly perfect system lies a series of biases and struggles that shape the lives of every member, especially the children. Welcome to the great Indian family system.
Let’s start with the elder child. So the elder one; often seen as the unspoken heir to all things responsible and respectable. They are the ones who are expected to be the ‘good’ child, the one who sacrifices, who understands, who quietly shoulders the burden of family expectations without so much as a sigh. They are the trailblazers, the ones who pave the way, not because they want to, but because they must. After all, how else will the younger ones know what’s expected of them?
But here’s the thing - why is the elder child expected to mature faster, to give up their own childhood in the name of ‘setting an example’? Why is their success taken for granted, while the younger sibling’s achievements are celebrated with greater fanfare? It’s almost as if the elder one’s worth is measured in their ability to take on more, to be more, but never to be 'enough'. Their identity becomes wrapped up in responsibility, and their individuality slowly fades into the background, unseen and unappreciated.
In a society where patriarchy runs deep, gender discrimination isn’t just about who inherits the family name. It’s about who inherits the family’s expectations. Boys are often raised with the belief that they are the future heads of the family, the protectors, the providers. Girls, however, are often seen as future wives and mothers, their worth tied to their ability to nurture, to serve, to support.
In many Indian families, this bias is so ingrained that it often goes unnoticed, even by those who perpetuate it. A boy’s education is prioritized because, after all, he will be the breadwinner. A girl’s education, while important, is often seen as secondary, a mere addition to her ‘marriage prospects’. And let’s not even start on the ‘eldest daughter’; the one who, by virtue of her birth order and gender, is expected to take on the role of the second mother, often sacrificing her own dreams and desires for the sake of the family.
The eldest daughter, caught between the roles of a child and a caregiver, grows up with the unspoken understanding that her worth is tied to how well she can manage a household, even before she’s had a chance to step out into the world. It’s almost as if her entire existence is geared towards preparing her for a life of service, to her future husband, her future children, and of course, the parents.
Now, let’s talk about the younger one; the child often seen as the free spirit, the one who doesn’t have to bear the brunt of the family’s expectations. But this freedom comes with its own set of challenges. The younger child often grows up in the shadow of the elder one, constantly compared, constantly measured against the standards set by their sibling. If the elder child is successful, the younger one is expected to follow suit, and if not, they are burdened with the fear of repeating the same mistakes.
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But here’s where it gets even more complicated. If the elder one dares to step out of line or fails to fit into the norms, questions the family’s wishes, or takes a path that doesn’t align with expectations; it’s the younger one who usually pays the price. The younger sibling’s freedom becomes conditional, as if the family’s trust has been irrevocably broken by the elder’s choices. Suddenly, the younger one is no longer the carefree, beloved child but a potential risk, someone who must be closely watched, controlled, and guided to prevent another ‘disappointment.’
The younger one’s crisis, then, is not just about living up to expectations but also about navigating the unintended consequences of their elder sibling’s choices, which often result in a tightening of the reins around their own life. Their so-called freedom is constantly under threat, always dependent on how well the elder one conforms to the family’s ideals. They are caught in a paradox; expected to learn from the elder sibling’s mistakes yet punished by association. Their individuality is overshadowed by the elder one’s legacy, and their freedom is no longer their own, but a privilege that can be revoked at any moment.
Now, let’s turn our attention to the sons of the family - the golden boys, the future heads of the household, the ones who will carry the family name forward. Sounds like a dream, doesn’t it? But scratch the surface of this ‘privilege,’ and you’ll find a weight that no one talks about. From a young age, boys are taught that they are the protectors, the providers, the ones who must never falter. They are expected to be strong, stoic, and successful because, well, what else is a man good for?
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But here’s the kicker: this unyielding mantle of masculinity is a double-edged sword. While sons are given the freedom to pursue education and careers, this freedom comes with a set of invisible shackles like shackles of expectations, of never showing weakness, of being the pillar of strength for the family. Crying? That’s for girls. Expressing vulnerability? Not a chance. Sons are conditioned to bottle up their emotions, to wear their ‘manliness’ like armor, even as it slowly weighs them down.
And let’s not forget the unspoken rule that they must one day take over the reins of the family, whether they want to or not. The son who dreams of a different life, one that doesn’t involve carrying the family business or living up to the patriarchal ideals, often finds himself at a crossroads. The freedom to choose his path is an illusion, as any deviation from the expected course is met with disappointment, judgment, and, of course, the ever-present guilt of letting the family down.
So, while the sons may appear to have it all, the truth is far from it. They are trapped in a cycle of expectations; expected to succeed, to never falter, and to carry the family name with pride, all while suppressing their own desires and emotions. It’s a crisis of identity, a struggle to reconcile who they are with who they are expected to be.
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So, let’s take a moment to celebrate the elder one, shall we? The one who is expected to be perfect, who is often overlooked because, well, they should know better. The one who is expected to take care of their younger siblings, to be the responsible one, the mature one. And let’s not forget the daughters, because what’s more rewarding than growing up with the knowledge that your worth is tied to how well you can manage a household, even before you’ve had a chance to step out into the world?
And while we’re at it, let’s not forget to celebrate the younger one; the one who is constantly told to be like their elder sibling, to do better, to make up for the elder one’s mistakes or to match their successes. The one who is often coddled but never truly allowed to be themselves. Because after all, what’s more fun than living your life as a constant comparison, never quite good enough, but always expected to be right?
And of course, a round of applause for the sons - the brave boys who carry the weight of the world on their shoulders, who must never show weakness, who must live up to the impossible standards of masculinity set by society and family alike. After all, what’s more fulfilling than living a life where every emotion is stifled, every dream is second-guessed, and every failure is met with a questioning glance that asks, “But you’re a man, aren’t you?”
The elder child, the younger one, the daughter, the son - these are not just roles, but complex identities shaped by family dynamics, expectations, and societal norms. Their struggles, their sacrifices, are seldom acknowledged because, well, that’s just the way it is. But it’s time we start listening to these unheard voices. It’s time we start questioning these norms, these expectations that are so deeply ingrained in our culture that we don’t even see them as discriminatory anymore.
Because every child, regardless of their birth order or gender, deserves to be seen, to be heard, to be valued; not for what they can do for the family, but for who they are as individuals. The elder one, the younger one, the daughter, the son - they are not just roles to be fulfilled; they are people, with dreams, with aspirations, with a need to be loved and appreciated for who they are, not just for what they can give.
So, the next time we find ourselves falling into the trap of these biases, let’s pause and reflect. Let’s recognize the elder child’s contributions, not as obligations, but as choices they make out of love. Let’s celebrate our younger children, not by comparing them to their siblings, but by acknowledging their unique strengths.
In the great Indian family system, every child - elder or younger, daughter or son; deserves to be valued for who they are, not just the roles they’re expected to play. It’s time we break the cycle of conditional love, expectations, and comparisons, and instead embrace each person’s individuality. Real change starts at home, with understanding, acceptance, and unconditional love. Let’s be the generation that rewrites the script.
Wishing you all to have a good day.
Thank you :)