The Other Side of Global Dreams
For years, I’ve noticed a familiar pattern in Indian families, especially in smaller cities and close-knit places like Mangalore. There is a sense of pride in announcing where one’s children have “settled.”
“My son is in New Zealand.”
“My daughter is in Australia.”
These words are spoken with joy, almost as if migration itself is proof of successful parenting. And in many ways, it is. It shows independence, growth, and the ability to thrive in new environments.
But what we often ignore is the other side of this story — the parents who stay behind.
Most of them encouraged this move. They wanted better opportunities for their children, a life beyond the limitations they themselves faced. Yet, as the years go by, what begins as pride often fades into something quieter and heavier: empty afternoons, vacant chairs at family meals, and celebrations that never feel complete.
Elderly parents rarely admit this openly. They continue to say they are happy their children are doing well abroad. But in private, loneliness sets in. Health issues begin to surface. Their need for care and companionship grows. And slowly, what was once a noble sacrifice turns into a daily struggle.
Mangalore, now slowly evolving into a retirement hub, reflects this silent crisis. The demand for caregivers and senior care services has surged. Unfortunately, the reality is troubling. Many caregivers lack training. Services are inconsistent. Aged care homes are understaffed, with little accountability. Too often, the needs of the elderly — emotional as much as physical — are reduced to transactions and checklists.
This system is fragile. Families remain unaware of the depth of the problem or choose to avoid it because it is too uncomfortable to confront. None of this is a criticism of children who move abroad — life naturally pulls people in different directions. But it is time we speak honestly about those who are left behind.
We must ask: how can we remain connected even from a distance? How do we build stronger, more compassionate systems of care? How do we ensure dignity in the later years of life?
The emotional toll on our elders is real. Many silently suffer from anxiety, feelings of abandonment, and a loneliness that can deepen into depression. Irregular communication, combined with health concerns and shrinking social circles, weakens not just the body but also the mind. Elder care cannot ignore this. Mental health must be treated as essential, not optional.
As a community, we can and must do better. It begins with acknowledgment — with seeing what we often choose not to see. And above all, it begins with one reminder: take care of your parents.
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