Where Is India Headed?

I Am Young, And I Am Afraid

I do not know how to start this without sounding broken, because I am broken.

I am young, and I am afraid for the future of this country. Not afraid in a dramatic, end-of-the-world way. Afraid in the quiet way that settles into your chest and refuses to leave. The kind of fear that comes from watching things fall apart slowly while everyone around you pretends this is normal.

I want a place to scream. A place where I can scream without being told I am anti-national, ungrateful, privileged, or dramatic.

Because what the hell is even going on.

A Nineteen-Year-Old Should Not Die For A Language

Arnav is gone. Nineteen years old. A kid with his whole life ahead of him.

He died because some people thought it was acceptable to harass and beat him for not speaking a particular language.

Read that again.

A boy died because of a language.

Language was never meant to hurt. It was meant to connect people. To help us understand one another. Somewhere along the way, we turned it into a test of belonging. A weapon. A reason to humiliate someone until they see no way out.

The most disturbing part is not just that it happened. It is how quickly it became another headline.

When Even Death Does Not Stop The Noise

Just yesterday, a Wing Commander lost his life when a Tejas aircraft crashed during a demonstration.

An aircraft went down in flames. A man serving the country died. And before the fire had even gone out, the arguments began. HAL. Pilot error. Politics. Blame.

Not even a moment of silence. Not even a moment of humanity.

What have we become.

Language As A Test Of Belonging

My father is a migrant from Uttar Pradesh. Mumbai gave him and me everything.

I am grateful for the Marathi I know and I speak it with respect. But I still remember being pushed in a local train because I responded to someone in Hindi. The shouting continued until I replied again, this time in Marathi.

Suddenly, he calmed down.

Nothing about me changed in that moment except the language.

So what exactly was being tested before that second sentence. And why did that sentence decide whether I deserved safety.

Aren't we all Indians.

Violence, Normalized And Defended

Violence has always existed in this country. But something has changed.

What scares me is not violence itself. What scares me is how easily it is justified.

India today feels angry and numb at the same time. We see so much tragedy that tragedy no longer shocks us. A blast happens and people fight over governments before the injured reach the hospital. A teenager dies and people pick sides instead of grieving.

Where is the pause. Where is the grief. Where is the basic human response.

When Deprivation Becomes Routine

Thousands of people die in this country every day because of broken medical systems. We barely notice anymore.

I remember my grandfather. After a road traffic accident, we rushed him to the biggest hospital in Lucknow, the KGMU Trauma Center. When we asked for a stretcher, we were told to find one ourselves.

In a trauma center.

We found one on another floor because a guard took pity on us and let us through. My grandfather later died.

In other countries, ministers resign over preventable deaths. Here, death has become background noise.

Trying To Build, And Hitting A Wall

I tried to do something.

I built IndianPotholes.com. I built EmpoweredIndian.in. I believed data and transparency could create pressure. That maybe even a 0.1 percent change would matter.

People cared. They shared. They discussed. And then they moved on.

Interest was intense and short-lived. The system absorbed the criticism and stayed unchanged.

That realization hurts more than failure.

Patriotism Is Not A System

I do not believe India is inherently ungovernable. I refuse to believe that.

I am not asking for perfection. I am asking for basics. Roads that work. Hospitals that function. Police that are accountable. Citizens who feel safe.

Patriotism is what keeps many of us here. But patriotism cannot replace institutions.

The Future I Am Afraid Of

If nothing changes, I do not see myself raising my children in India.

I want them to grow up without fear. Without worrying about the language they speak, the road they walk on, or the hospital they might need one day.

What terrifies me is not that India will collapse.

It is that it will continue exactly like this and call it normal.

That we will keep lowering our expectations. Keep excusing failure. Keep mistaking noise for progress. And keep losing humanity, one incident at a time.

I love this country. Deeply. Painfully.

That is why I am afraid for it.