July 23, 2025

For years now, I’ve observed a pattern around me. In many Indian families — especially in smaller cities and close-knit communities like Mangalore — there’s a certain pride that comes with announcing where your children have “settled.”

“My son’s in New Zealand.”

“My daughter’s in Australia.”

It’s said with so much joy, as if their migration is the ultimate proof of having done well as a parent. And I understand that feeling. It is, in many ways, a proud moment. A sign that one’s children are independent, successful, and building a life for themselves.

But what we rarely talk about is the other side of this story — the one that stays behind.

The parents.

Many of them encouraged this move. They dreamt of a better life for their children, of opportunities they didn’t have for themselves. But as years pass, what started as a proud decision quietly turns into long afternoons, empty chairs at family dinners, and celebrations that feel incomplete.

Most elderly parents won’t admit it. They’ll continue to say they’re happy their children are doing well abroad. But behind closed doors, loneliness creeps in. Health concerns pile up. The need for care and companionship increases. And what once felt like a noble sacrifice begins to weigh heavier.

In cities like Mangalore, which is slowly becoming a retirement hub, this has turned into a silent crisis. The demand for caregivers and senior care services has grown rapidly. But while there’s an abundance of agencies and homes claiming to provide support, the reality is often disappointing. Many caregivers are poorly trained. There’s little consistency in services. Aged care homes are understaffed, and proper guidelines are lacking. The emotional and physical needs of our elderly are too often reduced to checklists and invoices.

As someone who works closely in this space, I can tell you it’s a fragile, vulnerable system. And while the health industry benefits from this dependency, families remain largely unaware of how deep this issue runs — or they choose to look away because it’s too painful to face. This is not a judgement against those who move abroad or chase opportunities. Life takes people to different places. But it’s time we have more honest conversations about what’s happening to the people left behind. About how we can stay connected, involved, and supportive even from a distance. About building better systems of care, and treating the later years of life with the dignity they deserve.

The emotional toll on senior citizens left behind is often invisible, yet deeply damaging. Many experience heightened anxiety, feelings of abandonment, and a quiet loneliness that can lead to depression. The uncertainty of infrequent communication, coupled with health concerns and shrinking social circles, affects not just their physical well-being but their mental resilience. It’s crucial that we acknowledge these unseen struggles and prioritise mental health care as an essential part of elder care — both within families and through community-led support systems.

We can do better as a community. And it begins by acknowledging the truth, however uncomfortable it may be. And, please take care of your parents.

A Suicide Lifeline Initiative

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