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This piece examines how nepotism in India is not merely a contemporary issue but one deeply rooted in the country’s historical intersections of caste, class, and occupation. Through personal reflection and interviews with six individuals, it explores two parallel experiences, those who inherit career paths and those who consciously diverge from them. While inherited access offers advantages like networks, mentorship, and reduced risk, it also brings pressure to prove one’s worth beyond legacy. Choosing a different path often involves giving up security and identity, and can make success feel more “earned”, but it also reveals the privilege required to take such risks.
Across the world, the idea of nepotism is often framed as a modern flaw — something to be called out, debated, and, at times, defended. But long before it became this, it was simply how society functioned, especially in India. Caste, class, and occupation were historically intertwined, with professions passed down through generations not as a matter of choice, but as a structural inevitability. To inherit a career was to inherit a place in the world.
Today, that legacy hasn’t disappeared, it has just taken on new forms. Access may no longer be codified in the same way, but it continues to operate through networks, cultural capital, financial backing, and credibility that is often inherited rather than built from scratch. At the same time, there are a growing number of people choosing to step outside these inherited paths, trading certainty for autonomy, and continuity for reinvention. But does this ‘choice’ to move away from a ‘sure thing’ and embrace the uncertainty also come from a place of privilege?
I know that when I decided to pursue something completely different from what my parents do (they’re both engineers), it was a bit of a shock to the system. They were worried for me, as any parent would be, because they didn’t have the tools to support me or help me find my footing in the industry. There was also a sense of disappointment, not in my choice, but in the fact that they couldn’t offer the kind of guidance or support they might have been able to if I had followed a similar path as I entered the workforce. It took a lot of patience, letting go and researching on both sides for us to get to a place where they are slowly understanding what I do.
But I’m also deeply aware that my ability to pursue my passion with a certain sense of fearlessness isn’t just a product of youth or idealism, it’s rooted in the safety net I have, one that comes from a place of privilege. The freedom to take risks, to choose uncertainty over stability, and to prioritise passion over practicality is rarely made in isolation; it is enabled by the knowledge that there is something to fall back on if things don’t work out.
And that awareness complicates the idea of choice.
To unpack these two sides of the coin, we spoke to 6 young people from across a variety of different fields and practices. On one hand, are those who have followed in their parents’ footsteps and on the other are those who have chosen to walk away from these 'laid out' trajectories.
If 'earning' has traditionally been measured by effort, grit, and individual merit, these stories begin to complicate that idea, because effort doesn’t just exist in a vacuum; it is always shaped by where you begin. And the playing ground is never entirely even.
For those who inherit access, the journey is often about redefining what that access means. As Maya*, a 27 year old entrepreneur puts it, “My entry into the field was definitely accelerated because of my background, that kind of foundation saves a lot of time and reduces the risk that first-generation entrepreneurs typically face.” But with that acceleration comes a different kind of pressure, to justify it. For many, earning is not about starting from scratch, but about building beyond what already exists. “To me, earning my place means proving that I can grow the business in ways that go beyond maintaining it,” they explain, shifting the focus from just inheriting something to evolving it.
Similarly, for Sanvi*, a 19 year-old medical student who’s on track to becoming a doctor and who grew up around hospitals and clinical conversations, the path “felt like a natural progression”. “I had to question whether I was drawn to the science and responsibility of the field, or simply following a path that had always been around me,” she says. Even when access makes the journey smoother, through mentorship, guidance and a clearer understanding of the system, it doesn’t eliminate the need to define one’s own relationship to the work. In this case, earning becomes deeply personal. “It's about being a competent, compassionate doctor in my own right.”
In creative industries, the tension is perhaps even more visible and the most talked about. “My family background definitely made the entry easier it saved me from a lot of uncertainty and initial rejection, and yes, I definitely was allowed into some spaces way before others my age would be,” Neel*, a 23 year old photographer and cinematographer admits. And yet, he emphasises his desire to separate identity from inheritance. “Earning my place means becoming someone whose work stands independently of where I come from, but I also carry my legacy with me.”
On the other side are those who have chosen to walk away from these inherited trajectories, often at a tangible cost. Zoya*, an environmental science student reflects how there was a clear path waiting for her in her family business, and she chose “uncertainty” instead. In doing so, she had to give up a lot of things like financial security and an established network. This decision she made at 18, even though people assumed was coming from a place of rebellion, was more of a gradual shift toward something that felt more connected to her curiosity. She explains that she still feels the emotional weight of that choice: “It did feel like rejecting more than just a profession, it felt like stepping away from a legacy and a shared identity.”
For others, the shift is equally disorienting. Jay*, a former law student turned graphic designer recalls giving up connections and a certain level of credibility that came with his family’s established in the industry. To start over, 5 years ago at 29, in a field where they had “no safety net”, earning became synonymous with building something from the very start. “My sense of achievement now feels more earned because everything I’ve built has come from the ground up,” he says and he also adds that “...being able to pivot careers like this is a privilege, not everyone can afford to do that.”
That awareness echoes across multiple narratives. And as a journalist who chose the unpredictability of the media world over the stability of tech (it’s not that stable also, I know) I understand that choosing passion over stability is, in many ways, a privilege but building something of my own has made every small success feel personal and hard-earned.
But I also believe that the idea of merit is not set in stone. It’s also important to note that everybody I spoke to came from financially and socially well-placed backgrounds and what emerges from their accounts is not a simple contrast between advantage and struggle, but a more layered understanding of both. Whether one inherits a path or rejects it, the idea of 'making it' remains entangled with access, expectation, and choice.
Perhaps, then, the question is not just whether one has earned their place, but how they understand the conditions that made that journey possible. As a country where birth continues to shape opportunity, earning it is more than being a singular, definitive act. It is about acknowledging, and at times, reworking the legacy you begin with.
The participants for this article chose to remain anonymous. As such all names have been replaced with pseudonyms.
