In 1945, a family in Delhi queued in silence outside a grocer and the mother handed the ration book to the grocer.
"Chawal milega kya?"
"Ek kilo. Uske saath thoda sa daal."
Bargaining didn’t exist. Complaints had little scope. Grocer decided the menu.
Eighty years later, her grandson scrolls through nine food apps.
"Chinese?"
"Had it yesterday."
"Pizza?"
"Too heavy."
The phone goes dark. Nobody orders. Appetite fades into indecision.
We used to long for more. Now we’re suffocating under abundance. From 300 toothpaste variants to 30 OTT platforms, we are surrounded by options and starved for clarity. Every choice offers promise but breeds paralysis. What to watch, whom to date, which city to move to, even which identity to perform today.
This is not a supply chain issue. It is a cognitive debt. The middle class got everything it once dreamed of. And forgot how to want one thing. Every yes comes haunted by the ghost of a better no. Every option we select feels like self-betrayal. So we scroll. We pause. We live with tabs open in browsers and in life.
Choice inflation began as privilege. It ends in anxiety. Our grandparents lived with shortage. We are undone by surplus. They ate what was available. We skip meals because the menu is too long.
Even love now runs on algorithms.
"Tu uske saath serious hai kya?"
"Pata nahi yaar. Achha hai, but I keep thinking... maybe there’s someone else out there."
Dating apps promise freedom but deliver FOMO. Relationships don’t break because of fights. They dissolve under the pressure of imagined upgrades.
We treat people like policies. Swipe left for later. Swipe right in fear. Unmatch in boredom. Our generation doesn’t fear heartbreak. We fear choosing wrong.
Our grandparents waited six months for a trunk call. We leave messages on read, reply in our heads, and disappear. They committed because there were no shortcuts. We hesitate because we think there’s always a better deal coming.
We romanticize potential. We avoid presence. We confuse optionality with security.
"What if I pick the wrong job?"
"What if I move to the wrong city?"
"What if I say yes, and then change my mind?"
We want guarantees. But life doesn’t deal in refunds.
Freedom is not keeping all doors open. Freedom is choosing one and locking it behind you. Without panic. Without backup.
So if you feel stuck, the issue may not be lack. It may be overload. You have too many options and no mechanism to commit.
You’ve forgotten how to want one thing. Fully. Without searching for an exit.