Poverty

 

Why Poverty, Strangely, Feels Beautiful

Poverty — the word itself feels heavy. It sounds harsh, like something everyone wants to run away from. But here’s the surprising part — there’s a strange kind of beauty in it. A quiet lesson that stays with you, long after the hard times have passed. Like the scent of rain on dry earth… even after the rain is gone.

Even today, I find myself doing little things differently — booking movie tickets at the counter instead of online, enjoying Sunday morning idlis at a roadside stall instead of ordering in, or bargaining with an auto driver over ₹10. It’s not about being stingy. It’s just... muscle memory of a life once lived.

I still remember sitting on the floor for meals, sharing food on a simple mat, because we didn’t have a dining table. Sleeping on a chauki — for those unfamiliar, it’s like a low, long wooden bed.

So yes, when I get excited about free sweets, or when a small kindness lights up my face — some may find it childish. But it’s not. It’s gratitude. It's the joy of having known what it means to not have, and therefore truly valuing what you do get.

That’s why I believe poverty, in its own quiet way, is beautiful. Not because of the struggle — but because of the strength, the values, and the lifelong humility it leaves behind. No matter how far we go, we shouldn’t forget where we started. That memory is not a burden. It’s a gift.

Niharika Prasad