Not All Families Look the Same

on Growing Older, Chosen Responsibilities, and Why Love isn’t a Competition.

A funny thing happened yesterday when an old WhatsApp group from our MDS days suddenly came back to life after years of silence! It was just a group of three of us – Deep, Anika and me. 

Deep had just become the father of twins while Anika was already carrying her second one, after giving birth to a lovely boy last year! 

It started with congratulations and eventually became an exchange of jokes — “Deep bhai, 1+1 offer laya aapne to! Badhiyaa…“

And then it was pointed out that our group display picture was from 2017… Anika reminded us that 2017 was almost ten years ago!

I said — “F***!! WE OLD!!! “

Deep in his good humour, joked that we had graduated from “dating” to “carbon dating.”

We laughed and collectively realised — Damn… We’re getting older! 

And then Anika typed one message that caught my attention — “Krish jab tak you’re a bachelor you still get to call yourself young. We on the other hand… Do bacho ke Maa-Baap dude!!!“

It was meant in good humour. And I smiled. But it also made me wonder… Is growing older only measured by marriage and children?

Because that’s how our society often seems to measure it.

Single? — You’re still “young.”

Married? — You’ve become an adult.

Children? — Congratulations. You’ve officially entered the next stage of life.

Almost as though life progresses through a universally accepted checklist… 

Marriage – Children – House – Retirement – The End! 

But I don’t think life is that linear! 

—

To me, growing older has never been about ticking milestones. It’s about gradually settling into responsibilities that change who you are. 

Responsibilities you willingly choose. Responsibilities that begin shaping your decisions, your routines, your priorities, and most importantly, your identity! 

So I jokingly replied — “Do bachche to mere bhi hai… Bas chaar pahiye wale!“

(I have two children too… they just happen to have four legs.)

It was obviously a joke. But beneath the joke was a genuine thought. Those two little creatures have changed my life.

They dictate my schedule. I worry when they fall ill. They somehow know when I’m not okay… I plan my travel around them. I rush home because someone is waiting. I have responsibilities today that I didn’t have five years ago.

In my own way… I’ve grown older too.

For those who don’t know, I’m talking about my two kittens — Pride & Glitter!

If you’d like to know more about them, I wrote about them in “A Different Kind of Happily Ever After”, published on 24th June 2026.

—

Unfortunately, that’s where the conversation took a different turn.

Anika said, “Ek baar aur you equate your cats to our kids, I will kick your a**.“

Maybe it was just humour. In all likelihood, it was.

Or maybe it came from not fully understanding how deeply people can bond with animals. Or maybe it came from experiences where pets are seen as temporary companions—loved, lost and eventually replaced! 

I don’t know the exact origin of that thought process. And I don’t think it’s fair for me to assume either! But I do know how it made me feel.

Because I wasn’t trying to compare children with pets. I never was… Those two experiences are worlds apart.

Pregnancy… Childbirth… Breastfeeding… Years of sleepless nights… The emotional, physical and financial commitment of raising another human being. That journey deserves immense respect.

No pet owner can honestly claim to understand that experience.

Just as a parent may never fully understand the unique responsibilities and emotional landscape of someone whose chosen family includes animals instead of children.

They are different journeys.

And that’s perfectly okay.

So I wrote— “Well to each one their own! 😊”

“Yours will grow up and become independent… 

Mine never will… 

Rather they will grow old and become more dependent!”

…which is to say that the hands-on responsibilities and perhaps the eventual pain of separation may only grow with time.

And that’s when Anika said something that felt deeply painful — “And you’ll replace them.“

That sentence stayed with me. Because my answer came almost instinctively —

“If there’s one thing you should know about me, it’s this:

I don’t replace people! “

I wasn’t talking only about my cats anymore. I was talking about love itself. I don’t think relationships are replaceable. Not partners or friends or family, nor pets!

When someone becomes part of your story, they remain part of your story. Life moves forward because that’s its nature… But moving forward isn’t the same as replacing. The people, the souls we love leave fingerprints on us. Those don’t disappear simply because life changes.

In many ways, that is the same emotional space from which I wrote “The Colour of Ink”, published on 9th July 2026.

—

As the discussion continued, another pattern quietly emerged. The conversation shifted from love to difficulty. Parents spoke about the efforts of pregnancy, labour, surgical delivery, sleepless nights, years of sacrifice.

And every one of those things is true. But somewhere along the way, it almost became an argument about whose path was harder.

That’s when I found myself saying — “This is not a competition to win on kiska kitna challenging thha becoming parents.

You have yours, I’ve mine.”

Because it isn’t. Difficulty isn’t a currency that determines whose love counts more. One relationship requiring more sacrifice doesn’t invalidate another relationship’s emotional depth. Those are two entirely different conversations.

—

That’s why I wrote —  “It’s about the sentiments and the paths taken.”

Your path is yours. Mine is mine. We will probably never get each other’s challenges. But that doesn’t take away from the sentiments behind either journey.

And perhaps… We’re not supposed to.

Empathy doesn’t require identical experiences. It only requires accepting that someone else’s experience can be deeply meaningful even if it doesn’t resemble our own.

—

By this time the conversation wasn’t really about cats or children. It wasn’t even about getting older. It was about something much more subtle.

Our strange tendency to measure life using milestones that made sense for us.

Marriage, children, careers, degrees, money… As though everyone is writing the same story.

They’re not! 

Some people become parents. Some become caregivers to ageing parents. Some dedicate their lives to medicine. Some build businesses. Some nurture communities. Some rescue abandoned animals. Some never marry. Some never have children. Some do both. None of those lives are inherently more “grown up” than the others.

They’re simply different ways of carrying responsibility. Different ways of loving. Different ways of finding home.

Perhaps adulthood isn’t something bestowed upon us by marriage or parenthood. Perhaps adulthood begins the moment someone else starts depending on us—and we willingly choose to show up.

—

So perhaps the question isn’t…

“Who had the harder journey?”

Or…

“Whose love is greater?”

Maybe the better question is…

“Why are we so uncomfortable accepting that two very different journeys can both be deeply meaningful?”

Because perhaps growing older isn’t about becoming someone’s husband, wife, mother or father.

Perhaps it’s simply about becoming someone who learns to love—and to carry the responsibilities that love brings—with grace! 

And maybe… Just maybe… Love doesn’t need to be measured before it can be respected.

Perhaps that’s what family really is. Not a fixed structure, but a commitment. Sometimes it begins with birth. Sometimes with marriage. Sometimes with adoption or friendship or companionship.

Sometimes it begins with two tiny paws waiting for you at the door. Not all families look the same. But they are no less worthy of love, responsibility, or respect.

Dr. Krish

Journal entry

7th August 2026

10.30am