From career choices and family expectations to belief, belonging and public authority, freedom asks how we direct our lives—and how we treat people who choose differently.
Imagine a young graduate in Tirupati with a campus job offer from an established company. Instead of accepting it, she wants to move to Hyderabad and make films. Her parents have cared for her through the years and supported her education, hoping to see her build a secure and fulfilling life. Her father asks how long she is prepared to work without a steady salary, and what she will do if she cannot establish a career in cinema. Her mother worries about her living in a hostel in an unfamiliar city and whom she will turn to in an emergency. In reply, she shows them a short film she shot with friends and talks about the stories she wants to tell. One short film is hardly proof of a career, yet she has made something she cares about, and she wants to find out where the work might lead.
Everyone in that room has a reason for caring. Who should finally decide?
Choosing a life of our own
The decision is hers. But her parents’ hopes for her future deserve a real hearing, but they cannot replace her own judgment about the life she wants to build.
We easily accept this principle when we approve of the choice someone is making; the test comes when we are convinced they are making a mistake. Lawrence W. Reed’s essay “Liberty as a Life Philosophy” helped prompt this reflection on practising freedom through persuasion and respect for others’ choices. What does that commitment ask of us in everyday India, especially when another person’s judgment departs from our own?
For the family in Tirupati, the uncertainties are real. She could spend years assisting on other people’s sets without getting the chance to direct a full-length film. Talent and hard work matter, but neither guarantees finance, collaborators, or an audience. How will she pay rent between projects, and at what point would she reconsider? Working through those questions with her parents is part of taking her own ambition seriously. And her parents, too, have choices to make: they are entitled to say the plan looks unwise, and they can decide how much financial support they are able and willing to offer. Choosing not to finance her plans is different from confining an adult at home to stop her leaving. Repeatedly making her feel guilty can also damage the relationship they want to protect.
Even with careful planning, she may discover that daily life on a film set is nothing like she imagined, or that it simply does not pay enough to live on. Freedom includes the right to learn from failure and change course. If we were only permitted to attempt what we could guarantee in advance, many worthwhile ambitions would never be pursued. The cost of failure is greater for someone without savings or reliable support.
And if, after weighing the costs, she takes the salaried job after all? There is nothing inherently less free about sitting for a public-service examination, joining the family shop, or staying close to home. Making our own choices also means respecting others’ rights and honouring commitments we have freely undertaken.
Belief, choice and mutual respect in family life
Some disagreements touch beliefs we have shared since childhood. Think of a student returning for Diwali after quietly losing faith in the beliefs he grew up with. He still loves making sweets in the kitchen with his sister and lining the balcony with diyas alongside his parents, yet he no longer shares the prayers that accompany them. He ought to be able to say so—or step back from a ritual—without having to pretend to believe just to keep the peace at home. The same respect is due to a young professional who continues to fast and visit the temple even when her friends do not share her beliefs. Friends can question a belief, argue over evidence, and remain unconvinced; respecting a person does not require agreeing with their beliefs.
Marriage brings these quiet tensions into the open. When two adults decide to marry across caste or religious lines, the practical questions are real enough: how they will mark festivals, raise children, manage money, and navigate reluctant relatives. Counsel from people who love them can help. Concern for their future cannot justify threats, intimidation or violence. Nor does consent end at the wedding place—marriage gives neither partner ownership over the other’s body, earnings, or friendships. At the same time, someone who gladly chooses an arranged introduction, a familiar tradition, or a joint household is making a choice that deserves the same respect. Freedom of choice means very little if it only recognises lives that break with family tradition and looks down on those that continue it.
Living freely and responsibly in community and public life
Beyond the household, we constantly negotiate with people we did not grow up with: neighbors in a housing society, colleagues in a trade body, and officials at the municipal ward office. Who gets to decide when we disagree depends on the nature of the relationship.
State power carries a heavier weight still, because you cannot simply walk away from it. Consider a tailor who has saved enough to rent a small shopfront, buy a second sewing machine, and take on an apprentice. Before she parts with her deposit, she needs clear rules that officials apply fairly. If permission is refused, she should receive a clear reason and have a practical way to challenge the decision. She should not have to depend on personal connections or unofficial payments to receive fair treatment. She should also be able to ask why a particular requirement is necessary. Her freedom to earn a living deserves protection, just as her freedom to worship or marry does.
A person should not have to depend on family influence to challenge an unfair official decision, or on personal bravery to withstand threats. That is why fair rules and impartial institutions matter: they exist to protect people precisely when their beliefs are unpopular or their choices offend local opinion.
These freedoms matter because of what ordinary people build with them—the quiet satisfaction of finishing a film, winning a customer’s trust, finding friends who take our doubts seriously, or making a home with someone we love. No parent, neighbour, or official can know in advance which of these pursuits will give another person’s life meaning.
Back in Tirupati, the family may still see things differently. The young graduate may decide to work and save before pursuing films, or begin with a smaller project. She can take her parents’ concerns seriously and still make her own decision. Their love and guidance can remain part of her life as she chooses her path. The same freedom belongs to others, even when they choose a path she would not take.
Author: Venkatesh Geriti
Founder and President, Swatantrata Center
Venkatesh Geriti is the Founder and President of Swatantrata Center, an independent Indian institution advancing freedom and human flourishing. His work spans civic engagement, leadership development and the promotion of individual liberty, accountable government and opportunities for people to shape their own lives.
