Chasing Western dreams in Eastern shoes

Studying abroad is not an escape; it is an evolution that challenges you to step beyond borders—both real and mental, writes Mamta Jani

They pack more than clothes when they leave—tucked into the corners of their suitcases are whispers of home: turmeric-stained recipes, “don’t forget who you are” phone calls, and that old photograph from Diwali night. With wide eyes and heavy hearts, thousands of Indian students depart each year, chasing Western dreams, still wearing their traditional shoes.

To the world, it may seem like academic migration. But ask any one of them, and they’ll tell you—it’s a pilgrimage. One that begins with the scent of passport paper and ends, hopefully, in a job offer and a deeper understanding of self.

The West—represented by universities in the US, UK, Canada, and Australia—glows with promises, not just of education, but of elevation. These institutions are magnets for ambition, offering advanced laboratories, multicultural classrooms, and a ticket to the global stage. Degrees earned here do more than decorate resumes; they often redefine lives and legacies.

But these roads are not paved with certainty. Beneath every student’s confident smile lies a quiet storm of currency conversions, cultural confusions, and a homesickness that no video call can cure.

Indian students don’t arrive empty; they arrive full of expectations—from families that dream through them, from societies that measure success in job titles and overseas zip codes, from themselves, as products of a culture that worships education and carries the invisible weight of sacrifice.

And then comes the West—with its unfiltered individualism, its emphasis on me over we, and classrooms that reward opinion over obedience. Here, silence isn’t respect—it’s invisibility. Learning happens not in cramming but in questioning. Many struggle, flounder, and fall—but slowly, they find their rhythm.

It’s not just a degree they pursue; it’s fluency in a new way of thinking.

Life between lectures

There’s a parallel syllabus—one not printed in any course module. It involves figuring out how to stretch $50 for a week, navigating snow for the first time, mastering laundry, learning how to say “no” politely in English, and finding roommates who don’t steal your food.

Part-time jobs become classrooms of their own—serving coffee, tutoring kids, delivering pizzas—teaching humility, grit, and the value of every dollar earned. And every time a student calls home saying “I’m fine”, even when they’re not, they pass a silent test of strength.

In time, a beautiful contradiction emerges. These students become global in thought, yet Indian at heart. They miss the taste of homemade dal but fall in love with sushi. They write academic papers in perfect English but still text in Hindi. They light diyas in snow-covered dorms and celebrate Holi in foreign parks with strangers-turned-friends.

Their identity isn’t lost—it’s layered.

Why is it worth it?

Because studying abroad is not an escape, it is an evolution. It challenges you to step beyond borders—both real and mental. It opens doors that your hometown may never have had. It offers stories you’ll tell your children. It makes you fall in love with the world while reminding you of where you came from.

So yes, Western dreams may demand everything: money, courage, adaptability. However, the return on investment is not just economic—it’s existential.

To chase a Western dream in Eastern shoes is to walk the tightrope between tradition and transformation. It’s to leave with tears in your eyes and return with fire in your soul. And for every Indian student walking that path, the world is watching and applauding.

Because these journeys shape more than futures, they shape identities.

(The author is a founder of a study abroad consultancy)