The Weight We Carry: The Silent Guilt of Desi Immigrant Children

Words by Deepak Kanda

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In the 1920s, travel posters, made for steamship lines and airlines, became extremely popular. The style changed notably in the 1920s, to focus attention on the product being advertised. The images became simpler, precise, more linear, more dynamic, and were often placed against a single color background. They conveyed a sense of power and safety – basically, what travelers were supposed to feel boarding liners and trains and visiting new destinations. (Available as print)

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The Weight We Carry: The Silent Guilt of Desi Immigrant Children

I remember sitting by the window of a plane, about to take off for a solo trip, when I first felt it. A heaviness in my chest. A weight on my shoulders. It had been there for as long as I could remember, but this was the first time I truly noticed it — like a silent presence that had suddenly found its voice.

As the plane rolled down the runway, the feeling grew heavier, pressing down on me, demanding my attention. It reminded me of a child tugging at your sleeve; relentless, refusing to be ignored. After some messy self-inquiry, I realized what it was.

My family and I moved to Canada from northern India when I was 14 years old. Like most immigrant families, we spent our first few years struggling — learning a new language, adapting to an unfamiliar culture, rebuilding everything from scratch. Those early years were pure survival mode.

For most of my teenage years, I tried to balance it all; fitting into a new world while excelling in school, carrying the weight of my family’s sacrifices while figuring out who I was. Failure was not an option. Like many children of immigrants, I had one purpose: to justify my parents’ struggles, to make it all worth it.

And then, one day, things just… settled. I had a good job. I was financially stable. For the first time, I wasn’t constantly struggling. I wasn’t in fight-or-flight mode.

But instead of relief, I felt something else.

Guilt.