Part 8 of 19 in How to Coach Your Child: A Handbook for Indian Parents← Part 7Part 9 →
Autonomy Inside an Indian Home
Last week, I found myself in a heated discussion with a dear friend over a cup of chai. She was lamenting the rebellious streak of her teenage daughter, who had refused to follow an age-old family custom. As we conversed, I couldn’t help but recall countless similar scenarios I’ve encountered, both in my professional life as an IVF specialist and in my personal interactions. The recurring theme is the tension between tradition and the emerging sense of autonomy among the younger generation.
I’ve often observed that Indian homes, despite their warmth and vibrancy, sometimes struggle with the idea of individual autonomy. This isn’t about Western ideals clashing with Indian values. Rather, it’s about recognizing that autonomy is a fundamental human need—a right to be the person inside one’s own skin. It’s the ability to own one’s feelings, efforts, and even mistakes.
Consider the case of a young boy, Dev, in Kochi. At ten years old, he was coerced by his mother to touch the feet of a visiting great-uncle, a man he’d only met twice. His reluctance was met with a sharp pinch and a whispered admonition: “Do it, people are watching.” Dev complied with a stiff back, and the uncle seemed satisfied. But what about Dev? A year later, when a tuition teacher stood too close for comfort, Dev didn’t feel he could share his discomfort with his mother. The lesson had begun with a simple act of touching feet—his body was public property at the door.
This incident is a microcosm of a larger issue: the fear that granting agency to children will erode respect for elders. But the greater danger lies in raising a generation that can’t make choices for themselves. A coach can honor family customs without compromising the child’s autonomy. It’s possible to say, “In this house, we greet elders. You can say namaskaram with your hands together. You don’t have to touch feet if that feels wrong today. I will not pinch you into it.”
The idea of autonomy isn’t about handing over the keys to the kingdom on an eighteenth birthday. It’s about gradually offering slices of agency as the child grows. A four-year-old can choose between a red cup or a blue one, but not the entire dinner menu. A nine-year-old can decide the order of their homework or whether to use a pencil or pen for a project. As competence develops, the slice of autonomy should widen, not retract at the first sign of failure.
Joint families, a common setup in India, can complicate this process, but they don’t make it impossible. A grandparent may insist on feeding an eight-year-old by hand, while the parent can gently assert, “Amma, he will feed himself. If he leaves food, the kitchen is still closed.” It’s unnecessary to undermine a grandparent publicly. But sacrificing a child’s autonomy to maintain peace is a heavy price to pay. Children notice who holds the final say over their plates, clothes, hair, and friends.
Privacy is an integral part of autonomy. A diary, a closed door after a certain age, or a chat that isn’t subject to surprise audits—these are not indulgences. They are the foundations upon which a person learns to think independently. Of course, safety can override privacy, but it needs to be real, not driven by anxiety. “I will read your phone tonight because I am anxious” is not a legitimate reason. “I am worried you are talking to an adult we do not know; we will look together” is a different matter. The rationale must be clear and linked to a genuine risk.
For parents who never experienced privacy themselves, a child’s insistence on it may feel like an affront. But it’s not. It’s the child practicing being someone when nobody is clapping or correcting. Coaching means enduring that discomfort.
In parenting, the critical question is: what is the smallest piece of a decision the child can own without harm? Handing over that piece in words is crucial. For instance, “The party ends at 8. How you use the time before that is yours. I will not plan your afternoon to ensure you are ready.” Readiness may be imperfect. That’s the point. A coach who only allows the player to bat after the shot is already correct is not coaching. He’s performing.
In the realm of investing, I’ve seen parallels. Founders who are micromanaged by investors often feel stifled, unable to pivot or innovate freely. The best outcomes arise when investors trust founders to make decisions, even if they’re not perfect. Similarly, in education, autonomy fosters creativity and critical thinking. I’ve written before about how the Indian school system often stifles curiosity. Allowing children to own their learning journey can lead to remarkable outcomes, as I’ve explored in stories of learning by doing.
Returning to the home, the cost of snatching back autonomy is steep. It leads to children who grow up without the confidence to navigate the world independently. They become adults who second-guess themselves and rely on others to make decisions. In contrast, children raised with a sense of agency learn resilience. They understand that failure is not a catastrophe but a stepping stone to growth.
The journey towards fostering autonomy in Indian homes is not without challenges. It requires patience, understanding, and a willingness to let go of the reins, even when it feels uncomfortable. But the rewards are substantial. We raise children who are not only respectful but also self-assured, capable of making informed decisions and standing by them.
As I reflect on my conversation with my friend, I am reminded that change begins at home. The small choices we offer our children today lay the foundation for the adults they will become. It’s a journey worth embarking on, for it leads to a future where respect and autonomy coexist harmoniously.
In the end, the question isn’t whether we should allow autonomy in Indian homes, but rather how we can facilitate it in a way that respects our rich traditions while preparing our children for a world that demands independent thinking. It’s a delicate balance, but one that is undoubtedly within reach.