I’m sixteen, and this summer I visited India. It wasn’t my first time, but it was the first time I actually paid attention to how people there handle money.
And honestly? It changed how I think about spending, saving, and what “enough” really means.
The Street Vendor Who Taught Me About Margins
On my second day there, I bought paani puri from a street vendor. It cost 30 rupees—less than 40 cents.
I watched him expertly fill each puri, dip it in the spicy tamarind water, and hand them to me one by one. The skill, the speed, the care he put into making each one perfect.
Thirty rupees. For all that work.
I did the math later. If he sold 100 plates a day (which is a LOT), that’s 3,000 rupees, or about $36. Per day. And that’s assuming he sells out, has no expenses, and works every single day.
Back home, I’d spend $5 on a snack without thinking twice. This man was working incredibly hard for a fraction of that.
That’s when I realized: the value of money isn’t universal. It’s relative to where you are and what you’re earning.
My Aunt’s “Nothing Goes to Waste” Philosophy
I stayed with my aunt for a week. She’s not poor—she has a comfortable life. But the way she handles resources blew my mind.
Leftover food? Never thrown away. It becomes tomorrow’s lunch or gets repurposed into a completely different dish.
Old clothes? Cut up and turned into cleaning rags, or given to someone who needs them.
Plastic containers? Washed and reused for storage instead of buying new ones.
Shopping bags? Reused until they literally fall apart.
At first, I thought it was just being frugal. But then she explained: “Why waste money on something I already have? Why throw away something that still works?”
It wasn’t about being cheap. It was about being intentional.
I thought about my room back home. How many things do I have that I used once and forgot about? How much did I spend on stuff that’s just sitting there?
The 80th Anniversary That Made Me Rethink “Necessary” Expenses
My grandparents celebrated their 80th birthday while I was there. The family threw them a joint celebration, and it was beautiful, vibrant, full of love. But here’s what struck me:
They didn’t rent a massive venue. They used our family home and the courtyard.
The decorations? Mostly flowers and simple fabric draping, elegant but not elaborate.
The food? Homemade by family members and neighbors, not a fancy catering company.
And yet, it was one of the most joyful, memorable celebrations I’ve ever been to.
Back home, I hear people stressing about parties costing thousands of dollars. Elaborate decorations that get thrown away. Catered food. Professional everything.
This celebration probably cost a fraction of that. But the happiness? Exactly the same. Maybe even more, because everyone contributed something personal, and no one went into debt for it.
It made me wonder: how many things do we think are “necessary” that really aren’t?
The Bargaining Culture Shift
In India, bargaining is normal. You negotiate prices at markets, with auto drivers, at small shops. It’s expected.
At first, I felt awkward. Wasn’t I being rude by offering less?
But then I realized: it’s not about being cheap. It’s about knowing the value of things and not overpaying just because you can.
Back home, we accept whatever price tag we see. We don’t question it. We just pay.
But in India, I learned to ask: “Is this really worth what they’re charging? Can I get it for less? Do I even need it at all?”
That mindset shift followed me home. Now when I see something priced at $20, I don’t automatically think “okay, that’s the price.” I think “is this actually worth $20 to me?”
The Kids Who Were Happy With So Little
I met some kids in my aunt’s neighborhood. They were playing cricket in the street with a plastic bat and a tennis ball. No fancy equipment, no organized league, no expensive gear.
They were having the time of their lives.
I thought about kids back home who have closets full of toys, gaming consoles, expensive sports equipment. And yet, I don’t know if they’re any happier than those kids playing street cricket.
Happiness and money aren’t as connected as we think they are.
Those kids taught me something important: joy doesn’t require a big budget. Sometimes, it just requires creativity and community.
What Changed When I Came Home
I returned home with a different perspective. My room, which felt normal before, suddenly looked excessive.
I had:
- Clothes I’d worn once or never
- School supplies I bought because they looked cute but barely used
- Snacks I’d forgotten about in my drawer
- Stuff I couldn’t even remember buying
Meanwhile, I’d just spent weeks with people who made every rupee count, who used things until they truly couldn’t anymore, who found joy in simple moments.
I felt kind of gross about my own spending habits.
The Changes I Made
I started asking: “Do I need this, or do I just want it because it’s available?”
In India, you can’t buy everything on impulse because resources are more limited. That limitation creates intentionality. Back home, where everything is available instantly, I realized I needed to create my own intentionality.
I became okay with “good enough.”
I don’t need the newest version of everything. I don’t need the aesthetic option if the basic one works fine. Good enough is actually… good enough.
I stopped equating spending with caring.
In India, people show love through time, effort, and presence—not expensive gifts. My aunt spent hours cooking my favorite foods. My cousin took days off work to show me around. That meant more than any gift ever could.
I got better at appreciating what I have.
When you see people living full, happy lives with so much less, it makes you realize: you already have more than enough. More than most people in the world, actually.
The Uncomfortable Truth
Here’s what I learned that I’m still processing:
Most of us (myself included) live in incredible privilege. We have access to resources, opportunities, and choices that most of the world doesn’t.
And yet, we’re constantly feeling like we don’t have enough. We want more, newer, better.
Meanwhile, people with a fraction of our resources are making it work. They’re happy. They’re building lives and families and communities.
I’m not saying poverty is noble or that having less is better. I’m saying that our baseline for “enough” is completely skewed.
What India Taught Me About Money
Money isn’t about how much you have. It’s about:
- How intentional you are with what you have
- Whether you’re spending on things that actually matter
- If you’re confusing wants with needs
- Whether you appreciate what you already own
- If you’re finding joy in expensive things or in experiences and people
India didn’t teach me to spend less (though I do now). It taught me to spend better. More thoughtfully. More gratefully.
The Perspective I Carry Now
Every time I’m about to buy something, I think about that paani puri vendor. About the effort behind earning 30 rupees.
I think about my aunt reusing containers and making leftovers into new meals.
I think about those kids playing cricket in the street, happy with almost nothing.
And I ask myself: Do I really need this? Or am I just buying it because I can?
That visit to India gave me something more valuable than any souvenir: a completely different relationship with money.
And honestly? I think it made me richer, even though I’m spending less.
Have you ever traveled somewhere that changed how you think about money? What did you learn?