I'm Struggling Financially

and other money confessions that need air

I read menu cards as if they were written in Arabic, from right to left. Then I pray to the gods of all sects, “Please let the cheaper item be good enough.” 

Ashlyn Anstee on GIPHY

Talking about money is taboo, especially among women from a particular social location. I am certain my thoughts on money are messed up, immature, and stained with blind spots. They will reek of both, (upper-caste, middle-class) privilege and (gendered) negligence. After all, who can afford to not pay attention to money? And who encourages our silent confusion around it? I will make mistakes here, but I’d rather be candid about money than correct. The extreme privacy around money is expensive. So here goes.

Money Memories

Seven years ago, I was a part of a writing group that met on Sunday mornings at a doughnut shop. It took at least three hours for everyone to share their work and exchange feedback. The writing group itself was free, but we paid for our own coffee and doughnuts. Both were as sweet as they were expensive and would distract me from listening to the writers. Either I ate at home before the session or I would happily let my tummy burn and twist until afterwards. One Sunday, the stomach would not sit down. It swirled and bubbled with acids. Dizzy-headed, I was not sure if I could wait till I reached home. At the same time, eating out was not an option at the time. I was recently unemployed and still paying rent in a city like Mumbai. 

Some of the writers were already ideating, “Let’s walk to the Tibetan restaurant..” I had never been to one, nor had I ever had lunch with writers. I hesitated but tagged along. Once we reached there, I studied the menu as if it were a puzzle. Everything was out of my budget. I couldn’t have had the bamboo rice, the pan-fried noodles, or even the fancy tea. I chose to have the soup as it was cheaper, while others ordered with abandon. I had hoped the soup would fill my belly, but the naughty fellow acted like an appetizer. I felt more ravenous than before.

When my friends offered some of the noodles, I wanted to say yes but nodded no. I feared I will have to share the cost of those things. I begged my tummy to relax. When they were done eating over fascinating stories of travel and getting published, the bill arrived. I was ready with my part of the cash. I come from a city where ‘TTMM’ is common (the Tu Tera Main Mera mode of payment). But they didn’t go Nagpuri, they decided to go Dutch. For an aspiring writer, I was rather wordless. I paid with a starved tummy and a confused state of mind. 

hoppip on GIPHY

In college, I went to the birthday celebration of a friend. I made a card because I didn’t want to spend money on a gift. I ate little and didn’t indulge. While I was getting ready to leave, my classmates told me that we owe 300Rs. each for the cake. The birthday boy loved Millionaire Brownies from Theobroma, and they had made a cake with 15 or 20 brownies instead of getting a normal cake. Again, I was startled, as it was double the amount I was prepared to pitch in.

I’ve been on the other side too. I can never forget the sight of a dear friend eating Vada Pav, after the rest of us decided to go to McDonald’s. He had said he is not hungry and will head home. I felt sad because we would have loved to join him at the Vada Pav joint if we knew. 

My shameful silence began in school. Girls were ‘rated’ on the shops their parents can afford. Someone was a ‘Pyramid’ (the most expensive store at the time), someone was a ‘Big Bazaar’, and many weren’t even deemed worthy of being rated. I didn’t call my friends home as I was afraid of how I’ll be judged. We had everything we needed, and yet I grew up hiding my ‘enough’. Once after a friend’s birthday party at a restaurant, I took the cute Tabasco sauce bottle home. I was criticized by the other girls for being so cheap. I was a Monisha Sarabhai, amidst many Maya Sarabhais, but it wasn’t funny.

Money Confusions

I’ve not always been misunderstood or shamed, countless times I’ve been at the receiving end of financial generosity. College seniors, older, more ‘settled’ friends have paid for my lunches. I have received gifts, from earrings to a Kindle. I am grateful for the financial support I have received in times of duress, and for the money I’ve been able to make with my skills and privilege.

But my relationship with money is awful. I don’t think about it while making big life decisions, but small, daily choices are governed by a sense of insecurity. Being employed put me at ease in some ways, but I still struggle to match the standards of my friends. I judge others for how they spend their money and fear others’ judgement on my choices. I am growing aware of the unconscious emotions and biases I lug around. I hate how most friendships have boiled down to meeting and burning cash at a cafe. I am surprised that I know my close friend’s sexual traumas and secret ambitions, but not the methods she uses for savings and investments.

Money Hopes

via GIPHY

I am not equipped to write wise things about money. Nor do I understand the complex nature of class and capitalism — how a restaurant could be a dream venue for someone’s birthday party, and ‘unhygienic’ for someone else; how demonetization and the pandemic affected us differently; how to balance between dressing well and being a slave to brands. I don’t know what’s right. All I commit to is conversation. We need language to express our financial desires and boundaries. I want to learn how to say “No, that’s out of my budget” or “No, I don’t wish to spend right now” or “I am struggling financially” to my friends. I also want to say, “It’s my treat today because I am doing better these days” 

I want to make space for them to say the same thing. I don’t want to be a miser or freeloader, nor do I want to spend recklessly. And that means, before language, I need math. I think numbers are often clearer and kinder than our beliefs about money. Math tells us if we can afford something or if we need to wait. Math directs us to the way small savings add up to a big emergency fund, and to the magic of compound interest.

I love meeting people who are both compassionate and smart around money. I am eager to learn healthy money habits and to talk to you about them, over chai.