The Body Debt We Inherited: A Middle-Class Indian Dilemma

For the longest time, I wondered why fitness felt like a struggle.

Why taking care of my body felt like a burden.

Why rest felt like guilt.

Why asking for space felt like rebellion.

Why self-care felt… selfish.

And then I realized — I wasn’t raised to think my body mattered.

Like many middle-class Indian children, I was raised to please.

To be obedient.

To adjust.

To serve.

We weren’t taught to prioritize our well-being — we were trained to anticipate others’ needs.

We learned to say yes before we even knew we wanted to say no.

We learned to avoid conflict by blending in.

We smiled to keep peace, not because we felt joy.

This is what psychology calls the fawn response — appeasing to survive.

In our culture, it’s a virtue.

In reality, it’s a wound.

And so, we grew up learning to silence our own needs.

We were taught to save money, but not our joints.

To protect our reputation, not our nervous system.

To be employable, not emotionally available.

We were taught what to wear, but not how to feel.

What to score, but not how to breathe.

What to say, but not how to sleep.

We learned that sugar is a treat — not a drug.

That skipping meals was productivity — not neglect.

Speak up, and you were labelled disrespectful.

Ask for help, and you were weak.

Say “I need space,” and you were rude.

Take time for yourself, and you were selfish.

So, we internalized it.

We learned to hustle, not to heal.

To perform, not to process.

To compare, not to connect.

We were constantly reminded:

“Your parents never did this.”

“You should be grateful.”

“You have it easy.”

And when it came to others?

Complaints came easier than compliments.

Criticism felt natural, but appreciation felt awkward.

That’s how we treat ourselves too.

We dismiss our progress.

Ignore our pain.

Devalue our needs.

This is the cultural samskara — the imprint, the groove — passed down silently across generations.

A pattern so deeply embedded, we don’t even question it.

We eat what’s cooked.

Rest only when sick.

Move only when forced.

Health becomes an afterthought.

Something we tend to only when it breaks.

We’ll travel 20 kilometers for biryani, but resist walking 20 minutes for our health.

We’ll haggle over the price of a yoga class, but spend hundreds on snacks for guests.

We’ll save every rupee for “the future,” while ignoring the very body that must carry us there.

And yet — this cycle can be interrupted.

For me, that interruption came through yoga and mindfulness.

Yoga helped me begin a conversation with my body — one I had avoided my whole life.

Mindfulness taught me to pause, to breathe, to notice.

It allowed me to shift from fawning to feeling. From pleasing to processing.

From surviving to choosing.

I now understand that self-care is not selfish — it’s sacred.

It’s how I show up for myself and for others — fully, honestly, compassionately.

And that’s what I now share with the kids and adults I teach:

Awareness.

Agency.

And the courage to rewrite inherited scripts.

Because if we don’t challenge these patterns now, we’ll pass them on — not just as habits, but as identities.

Let’s teach the next generation that strength isn’t just endurance — it’s expression.

That boundaries are not rejection — they’re protection.

That rest is not laziness — it’s wisdom.

And that caring for your body, your breath, your mind, is not rebellion.

It’s remembering who you truly are.

(This blog was inspried by a forwarded message- resonated with the Indian middle-class in me)