Of Becoming Humble

Humility isn’t something we’re born with, it’s something life teaches us, often in the most unexpected ways. It doesn’t arrive through success or comfort, but through the moments that strip us down and ask us to rebuild. For me, humility was never a single event or lesson. It was a journey shaped by circumstances, choices, and challenges that revealed who I truly was beneath everything I thought defined me.

A Little History

I grew up in a home where both my parents worked full-time in their fields. My father, who earned a Ph.D. in organic chemistry, led laboratories in various leather-related chemical plants, while my mother, with a Ph.D. in zoology, was a professor. Because of their hard work, my childhood was both emotionally and financially stable. We lived in a spacious four-bedroom home with marble floors and teak doors, where I had my own room with an ensuite bathroom and a separate dressing room.

Domestic help was a normal part of life in India then, and as a result, I never once washed dishes, did laundry, or went grocery shopping. I didn’t sweep or mop floors, and I never had to cook a meal. We had a live-in servant and another who came daily, and my father’s work in Chennai meant I often used his car to get to university and later to work. I attended a private Catholic women’s college that was one of the best in the city at the time.

Although my parents were not particularly affluent, many of my friends came from privileged backgrounds, and through them, I became a regular at the local country club. I also belonged to a family of educated and accomplished professionals, from state police heads to high court judges, where achievement was expected and excellence was the norm.

Yet despite all of that, my parents remained humble people. I was aware that my life was more comfortable than that of many of my peers, but it was never something I thought about much, nor did I ever look down on anyone. Still, there was always an underlying awareness of the class distinctions that existed, a quiet recognition of the invisible lines that shaped our worlds.

Humility Begins

When I moved to the United States in 1999 as a student in my early twenties, the first thing that hit me hard was the sudden realization that I had to wash my own dishes and do my own laundry. It might sound trivial, but for someone who had never done those tasks before, it was a shock to my system. And not to forget, I barely knew how to cook. I quickly learned that if I didn’t make something to eat, there would simply be nothing to eat.

And that was just the beginning. Most international students I knew were in the same situation, financially stretched, living in cramped, often run-down apartments with multiple roommates, and doing everything they could to stay afloat while pursuing their education. Life revolved around classes, part-time on-campus jobs, tight budgets, and the constant pressure to perform well academically. Despite the struggles, I managed to keep my grades high, earning only one B throughout my master’s program with an almost perfect GPA.

My love for books became its own lesson in humility. With no car and limited money, I would walk two miles each way, just me, my backpack, and my thoughts, to a small used bookstore downtown. It was a simple ritual that reminded me how much I was willing to do for the things I loved. Occasionally, other students with cars would see me walking and offer me a ride. One of them would later become my husband.

Humility also came from realizing that I could no longer rely on my parents’ reputation or my family’s name for respect. In this new world, respect wasn’t something inherited; it had to be earned. It depended on my hard work, perseverance, and willingness to build everything from scratch. Here, respect came not from an invisible class system or family connections, but from what I accomplished and who I became on my own.

And as life unfolded, I came to understand what humility truly looked like in practice.

What Humility Really Looked Like

For me, humility looked like going from country club visits to living off minimum wage, buying second-hand clothes, and rationing groceries so they would last the week. It was going from driving a car to university in India, where I was probably one of only a handful of students who did, to walking miles to buy books or groceries and carrying them back.

Humility was going from carefree joyrides in convertibles to riding alongside my then 20-year-old husband on his late-night shifts. It was going from living in a large house to sharing small apartments that smelled like cat pee, surrounded by unsafe neighborhoods where I had to think twice before stepping out at night.

Humility was marrying my husband when he was still a student, and I had just started my first job and facing financial struggles together in the early years of our marriage. It was knowing that everyone around me seemed financially secure while we were still trying to make ends meet and pay for his education.

The Lessons

Those experiences were more than just difficult adjustments; they were profound lessons. They taught me perseverance, grit, and the quiet strength that comes from doing hard things without complaint. Most of all, they taught me that humility isn’t about losing status. It is about stripping away everything that’s superficial and discovering who you truly are beneath it all.

Humility is knowing your limitations and being honest about your shortcomings, not as weaknesses, but as truths that keep you grounded. It also removes the pressure to present a certain image to the world or build a life just for appearances. In its place, it leaves something far more meaningful: a life built on authenticity, inner strength, and the quiet confidence that comes from knowing your worth isn’t tied to what others see.

And once you learn to be humble with yourself, you begin to see others differently too. It teaches you to respect people without conditions. It reminds you that every person is carrying struggles and stories you may never see, and that their worth isn’t measured by success, wealth, or status. True humility means accepting people as they are, without judgment or comparison, and honoring the quiet battles they’ve fought to get where they are.

Looking back, every humbling experience, every walk to the bookstore, every night spent counting pennies, every quiet moment of starting over, shaped me into who I am today.

Humility taught me to stand on my own feet, to find dignity in effort, and to see the humanity in everyone I meet. It taught me to meet people where they are, to listen more and judge less, and to value effort over appearances. Most of all, it taught me that my worth was never about status, comfort, or how life looked from the outside. It was, and always will be, about resilience, kindness, and the courage to keep showing up.

And in the end, every struggle, every small victory, and every lesson became part of my story, the story of becoming humble.