Kya paya, kya khoya? The bargain of nothing.

I belong to a generation where most of us didn’t have much money, but we had dreams—big, limitless dreams. We believed in sharing, in caring, in standing by each other no matter what. We worked hard, tirelessly, driven by a common purpose: to conquer the beast called money. Not for greed, not for power, but to finally have what was once out of reach. We wanted security, comfort, and the simple joys that scarcity had denied us.

The journey was tough. There were struggles, sacrifices, and endless hours of work. But we fought. And in the end, almost all of us won. We tamed the beast. We built homes filled with everything we had once longed for—beautiful furniture, modern appliances, the latest gadgets. The void of material lack was filled, yet something else, something far more precious, quietly slipped away.

In chasing wealth, we lost the deep connectedness that once defined us. We used to live for each other. We were present, truly present. We shared meals, stories, and laughter—not through screens or planned meetings, but spontaneously, effortlessly. We laughed without needing comedy shows, because joy wasn’t something we consumed—it was something we created together. We listened to each other, not out of obligation but because we cared, because every voice mattered.

Our world was one of hope. Every day felt bright and full of possibilities. The future was unknown, yet exciting. Words like stress, anxiety, depression, loneliness, and separation were absent from our dictionaries. We had only one problem: we didn’t have enough money. But we had each other.

Now, we look around and realize—yes, we won the battle with the beast, but at what cost? We no longer fear financial insecurity, but we find ourselves longing for something money cannot buy. We have traded uncertainty for comfort, but in doing so, we have lost the simple, unshakable hope that made every tomorrow feel worth waking up for.