ఉపాయం

ఉపాయం - 412 Make it simple, don’t complicate it! — The Indian national sport of making easy things difficult!

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ఉపాయం - 412

Indians are not short on intelligence. If intelligence were oxygen, Indians would still find a way to store it in six containers, argue over who owns the lid, and form a committee to decide how breathing should be done properly. Somewhere along the way, Indians absorbed a curious social belief: the more complicated you make something look, the smarter you must be. Simplicity feels suspicious. Directness feels naïve. But if something is indirect, layered, emotionally coded, and routed through five intermediaries, it suddenly looks impressive. Property disputes are the purest expression of this talent. What could be a straightforward division turns into a generational saga. Boundaries are discussed like metaphysics. Old documents acquire mythological status. Everyone knows exactly what they want, yet no one says it plainly and offers a solution. Directness feels risky; complexity feels cultured, dignified, and appropriately serious. Couple misunderstandings follow the same choreography. One person is hurt. The other knows it. Silence is chosen as the preferred communication tool. Elders are consulted. Time is trusted to heal things that could have been resolved by a single honest sentence. What could end in ten minutes stretches into months, sometimes years, acquiring emotional compound interest along the way. Living accommodations reveal another layer of quiet heroism. Indians will tolerate leaking ceilings, awkward roommates, and sustained emotional discomfort before asking clearly for what they need. “Adjusting” is praised as wisdom. Asking directly is considered bold, possibly rude, and unmistakably American. At work, the pattern reaches its peak. A clear task turns into meetings, which turn into sub-meetings, which turn into PowerPoint decks thick enough to qualify as literature. The person who speaks most indirectly, sprinkling conversations with words like alignment, synergy, and bandwidth, is labeled intelligent. The person who says, “This won’t work; here’s a better way” is labeled difficult. In many American workplaces, there is a simple, almost blunt standard that cuts through all of this: “make it simple, don’t complicate it”. The goal is not to sound smart, but to finish the task. Indians do this because complexity offers safety. It protects relationships, egos, hierarchies, and accountability. If no one says anything clearly, no one can be held fully responsible. Simplicity, by contrast, demands courage. It exposes intent. It invites response. It leaves little room to hide. This is where Indian-American families and second-generation youth often feel a quiet dissonance. Many grow up learning clarity, efficiency, and direct communication—skills rewarded in American schools, workplaces, and civic life. They learn to ask questions, name problems, document decisions, and move forward. Then they encounter Indian social systems where those same skills are misunderstood. Directness is mistaken for arrogance. Efficiency is mistaken for impatience. Clear boundaries are mistaken for disrespect. Being smart in an American way suddenly feels underrated in India. At home, this confusion is often unintentionally reinforced. With good intentions, parents say things like “Don’t say it directly,” “Let it be,” or “Adjust.” What children often hear instead is that their instincts are risky, their clarity is rude, and their efficiency is unsafe. Over time, this teaches them to doubt skills that are actually strengths. There is another way to model wisdom. Parents can show that respect and directness can coexist, that asking clearly is not disrespectful, and that emotional honesty is not rebellion. They can teach children that being American-trained in communication is not a liability, but an asset that may take time for others to understand. The goal is not self-erasure, but cultural translation—knowing how to soften tone without abandoning truth. For second-generation Indian-American youth, it helps to remember that your intelligence may not always be recognized immediately in Indian spaces, not because it is inferior, but because it operates with fewer layers. You see problems and want to solve them. You hear confusion and want to clarify it. You value time, consent, documentation, and closure. These are not Western flaws. They are modern leadership traits. Learning to pause a moment, observe, and adapt is wise. Internalizing the idea that complication equals wisdom is not. Some people look smart because they are unclear. You may look different because you are clear. Over time, clarity wins. Straightforward systems outperform roundabout ones. Honest conversations outlast silent resentment. Simple processes scale, while complex drama exhausts everyone involved. The deepest irony is that while India often honors complexity, it quietly benefits most from those who simplify. So, if you feel out of place for wanting things to be clear, fair, and efficient, take heart. You are not less Indian. You are simply ahead of the curve. The truly intelligent do not make things confusing to appear smart; they make things simple so others can move forward. Or, as the American standard for getting things done puts it: “make it simple, don’t complicate it”!