"A 29-year-old Bangalore techie recounts the true story of how his manipulative, destructive sister in Mumbai slowly eroded his morals, turned him against his loving family, and turned him into an unwilling accomplice in their downfall."

The Story of a Zillennial Boy (29):

A Journey of Isolation and Regret

I wasn't always confident. During school, I was the introverted, quiet boy who felt like he didn't fit in. As the eldest son of a middle-class family, I often found myself standing in the shadows, overshadowed by the busy lives of my parents. My mother was constantly engaged with kitty parties and clubbing, and my father was almost always abroad, consumed by work and travel. It left me to navigate my world on my own.

College: A Turning Point

When college came around, everything changed. Management studies, friendships, short films, and even modeling opened doors I hadn't even imagined. My life in college was full of joy and discovery, and for the first time, I felt like I could be someone else, someone more outgoing and confident. I enjoyed the attention, the fun, and the relationships. My studies went smoothly, and I even had a few relationships that taught me about love and loss.

Then, my father, perhaps seeing my growing independence, gifted me a car. It was a significant moment - something that set me apart from my peers and marked the beginning of my adult life. I drove it proudly, feeling like I had arrived.

The Transition: From College to Career

But the transition after college wasn't as smooth as I had hoped. My first job at a bank felt off. It was uncomfortable, and I quickly realized it wasn't the right fit. Two job changes in under two years left me frustrated, confused, and disillusioned with the corporate world. That's when I decided to take a leap of faith - moving to start a business with my elder sister. My father's connections helped us secure the initial business, but keeping it afloat proved to be a struggle.

After the business failed, I returned to a job in an ed-tech company, and later, I found an opportunity in Hyderabad to start an electric vehicle (EV) charging venture. Just as things were beginning to take shape, the pandemic hit, and everything crumbled. The next two years were a blur of loss and failure, and I found myself back home - broken, both physically and emotionally.

Family Pressures: The Strain of Expectations

During this time, my father, always hopeful for me, suggested that I settle down. It was his way of telling me that it was time to build a family, to get my life together. I proposed to my college girlfriend - she was two years older than me - but it didn't work out. Soon after, another proposal came, but my mother rejected it for reasons I never understood.

Then came another call - to return to Gwalior. This time, it was for another girl. She was kind, and I thought things might work out, but once again, the engagement collapsed. My mother and her brother were the ones who tore it apart. It felt like I was destined for failure in the one thing I had hoped would give me some stability.

A Cry for Help: Asking My Father for Money

Frustrated with the lack of direction, I reached out to my father. I asked for financial help - not for survival, but for a fresh start. I needed a new job, a better place to live, and a new car. My father, without hesitation, gave me ?5 lakhs for the car and ?1 lakh for the house security deposit. I used the money to transform my life, and within months, I was settled into a new apartment, with a new car and new hopes for the future.

But then, something changed. When my father came to visit me, I noticed something in his eyes. It wasn't the pride I had always seen. It was sadness. The kind of sadness that only a father who knows his son is slipping away can feel. I realized that, despite everything he had given me, despite all his sacrifices, I had become someone he no longer recognized.

The Turning Point: Pushing Him Away

Still, in my bitterness, I turned him away. Encouraged by my sister and my mother, I told him to leave. I watched him stand there, suitcase in hand, looking at me with hope in his eyes, and I turned him out of my house. He cried, but I didn't care. I convinced myself that I would join him soon, but I put him in a hotel instead, leaving him to wait, alone.

Weeks passed. Festivals like Dussehra and Diwali came and went, and I ignored his calls and messages. The guilt didn't hit me. In fact, I felt nothing but a strange sense of relief - like I had finally taken control of my life, however twisted that control may have been.

Then, one night, he came to see me again. I insulted him, yelled at him, humiliated him in ways I never thought I could. I forced him to leave, and I felt a twisted sense of satisfaction as I did. My sister's plan, the one I had been following without realizing it, was working. The isolation, the manipulation - it was all coming together.

The Final Break: A Message That Haunts Me

Later that night, I sent him the divorce papers - documents drafted by my sister's lawyer. I couldn't even bring myself to look him in the eyes one last time. Instead, I sent it by message. I let him know that everything was over, that I had chosen a side.

Now, he is alone. Sick. Cooking for himself in Noida. Slowly dying, both physically and emotionally. I still get his messages - his pleas for all of us, his cries about ending it all. And for reasons I can't even explain, it gives me a sense of twisted satisfaction. It means the plan worked.

A Bitter Lesson

People often say that heaven lies at the feet of parents. I once believed that too. But I proved them wrong. I have to think what will I tell my kids about it as my experience.

Thanks to my sister's guidance and my mother's unwavering support, I learned how to break someone completely - how to dismantle the very person who had given me everything. And as I sit here now, I reflect on everything I have gained - and everything I have lost.

My younger sibling is learning too, watching as I destroy the man who sacrificed everything for me.

Mumbai, with all its ambition and harsh lessons, taught me how to survive. But survival came at a cost. It came with the destruction of my own blood. I am sure this is not wrong but the change of mindset towards parents who gives birth and contribute to make you successful, and their values have no meaning in my generations mind. We hope some day we give birth to our children and forget after they goes out. Is this happening in India now!!!