These kinds of articles don’t need a date or a season. Parenting isn’t like IPL, where every year there’s a new team or a new trophy to chase. Parenting doesn’t go out of fashion like baggy jeans or return every few years like 90s Bollywood songs. Parenting is a subject that’s lifelong to learn and forever difficult to implement.

And so, Uncle, Auntie—hello. I hope you’re here, reading this. Maybe half-heartedly, scrolling while sitting on the sofa after dinner. I know I don’t have your full attention, but before I lose even that half, let me hit you with the point straight.

Scene 1: The Dream Confession

“Papa, I want to be an artist,” says Arun. “Mama, I want to be a designer,” says Harini. “Papa, I want to be an archer,” says Vinaya. “Papa, I want to be a cricketer,” says Dhanush.

I don’t know if your kid’s name is in this list. But I do know your kid’s dream is hidden somewhere in there.

And I also know your answer. It’s not an outright “No.” And it’s not a real “Yes.” It’s the universal parent response — polite, practical, and perfectly crushing.

“Beta, those dreams are not easy to achieve. Politics is there. No proper future in it. You’ll end up with nothing. So, no.”

And that’s it. The full stop. The end of the conversation.

Your child doesn’t even get to say, “Papa, please let me try…” because you’ve already shut the door. They know there’s no point coming back to it tomorrow. They know you won’t listen.

Scene 2: The Permission That Comes Too Late

Fast forward. Years later.

Your kid has finished graduation. He’s holding that degree — B.Tech, B.Com, BBA, whatever the society-approved certificate of survival is.

Now, you finally say: “Okay, beta, now that you’re done with studies, go try your dream for a year.”

But let’s be honest here, Uncle, Auntie. You’re not permitting because you suddenly believe in them. You’re giving it because you no longer have control. Your child has grown up. They’re independent. You’re in a “can’t-do-anything” position.

Scene 3: The Struggle

So, they try.

They fight alone. They work harder than ever. They finally permit themselves to dream.

But most of the time, they don’t make it.                                                        Why?

Because while someone else was training full-time to be a cricketer, an actor, a designer, your child was trapped inside classrooms, half-heartedly listening to lectures about economics, chemistry, taxation, or operations.

They were bunking, they were confused, they were lost. They didn’t belong there, and they knew it.

And now they regret it. Not regretting failure. But regret the wasted years.

They ask themselves: “Why did I even do that degree?” “Why didn’t I get the chance earlier?”

And sometimes, they lose out on their dream by just one mark, one shot, one performance. Not because they weren’t capable — but because they were never allowed to try when it mattered.

Scene 4: The “Safe” Life

Now look at your child.

He’s working. He’s earning ₹15,000, maybe ₹25,000, maybe even ₹50,000. It looks “safe.” It looks “settled.”

But look deeper. His heart isn’t there. He’s not living. He’s only leading life. Every day, punching in and out, mechanically doing what’s expected.

And you? You’re just watching him do it.

No parent wants to see their child simply “exist.” But that’s what’s happening across this country.

The Alternate Story

Now, let’s rewind to Scene 1.                                                                        Same child. Same dream.

But this time, you say: “Beta, I’ll give you one year. Just one year. Try as hard as you can. Chase your dream.”

Now look at the picture.                                                                                  If your child succeeds — fantastic. You’ll be the proudest parent.

If they don’t succeed, they can join college, continue their education. But with a different mindset. They now know what effort means. They now respect hard work.

Most importantly, they’ll never say in life, “My parents never gave me a chance.”                                                                                                        Instead, they’ll proudly say: “My father trusted me. My mother let me try. They gave me that one year.”

That one year makes all the difference.

Why “One Year” Matters More Than You Think

Uncle, Auntie, you have already given years to coaching for JEE, NEET, and UPSC. You spend lakhs on tuition. You proudly say, “My son is preparing for IIT,” or “My daughter is trying for AIIMS.”

But when it comes to arts, sports, music, and filmmaking, suddenly the budget vanishes. Suddenly, “log kya kahenge” (what will people say?) becomes the biggest enemy.

Why is “dream big” only restricted to jobs at Google, Microsoft, or foreign MNCs? Why can’t “dream big” mean winning an Olympic medal? Or releasing a music album? Or creating a start-up that doesn’t exist yet?

Your fear is understandable. You want security for your child. You want a backup plan. But sometimes, Uncle, Auntie, your security kills the very spirit that makes life worth living.

And then you complain: “My son doesn’t share things with me,” or “My daughter doesn’t open up to me.” How will they? When the first time they dared to open up, you closed the door?

The Harsh Truth of Today’s Parenting

Right now, what’s happening across India is brutal but simple:

• Parents don’t allow freedom to dream after 12th.
• They wait till college finishes.
• By then, the child is too tired, too lost, too practical.

Two or three years get wasted. Degrees are there. But passion is gone.

And you know what happens to people who live without passion? They survive. They don’t live.

All We Ask

Uncle. Auntie. We’re not asking you to gamble our whole life. We’re not asking you to throw us in the dark and hope we come back with light.

We’re asking for one year.

One honest year of effort. Right after 12th. One year where we chase what we truly want. One year to fail with dignity or succeed with glory.

And if we fail — don’t worry. We’ll return stronger. We’ll study harder. We’ll even join your safe road. But at least, we’ll never carry that wound of “never got the chance.”

Because if you don’t let us try, that pain stays forever.

A Final Word to You, Uncle and Auntie

Maybe you’ll argue with me. Maybe you’ll think, “This is idealism. Life doesn’t work like that.”

But think back to your childhood. Weren’t there things you wanted to do? Things you still regret never trying?

That regret is what I’m asking you to save us from.

Don’t just guide us. Don’t just lead us. Please — let us live.

All we want is this:

Just one year, Uncle. Just one year, Auntie.

.    .    .