THANKS FOR THE ADVICE, NOW DO IT FOR ME
- Madhukar Dama
- 10 hours ago
- 5 min read
A Satirical Survival Manual for the Indian Advice Epidemic
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INTRODUCTION: THE NATIONAL EMERGENCY NO ONE TALKS ABOUT
India is not suffering from unemployment.
It’s suffering from over-advicement.
There are advisors in every house, every bus stop, every ATM queue, and every hospital corridor.
They are jobless, clueless, and often toothless — but fully equipped to advise you on health, finance, parenting, love, religion, career, and how to breathe.
Their qualifications?
None.
Their experience?
Negative.
Their confidence?
Absolute.
You didn’t ask?
Doesn’t matter.
You’re alive. That’s enough for them to bless you with life-altering instructions.
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SECTION 1: THE DEFAULT INDIAN SETTING — MOUTH ALWAYS ON
Indians are born with a natural instinct to interfere — disguised as concern.
We cannot digest silence.
We must say something — even if it’s irrelevant, unasked, or completely outdated.
You say: “I’m tired.”
They say: “Go for a run.”
You say: “I lost my job.”
They say: “Start a business. Be your own boss.”
You say: “I’m depressed.”
They say: “Have you tried yoga?”
Their brains aren’t processing your pain.
They’re just fishing into their dusty cupboard of generic advice and throwing random things at you — like Holi colours made of detergent.
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SECTION 2: FAMILY — THE HEADQUARTERS OF UNSOLICITED WISDOM
Your mother has never done a push-up, but she knows which fitness app you should use.
Your father has never quit a single addiction, but he’s ready to reform your entire personality.
Your relatives failed in their own dreams, so they’re determined to direct yours like a bad 90s film.
They don't ask how you are.
They don't ask what you want.
They just tell.
Because in Indian families, advice is not love.
It’s dominance delivered with a smile.
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SECTION 3: FRIENDS WHO BECOME GHOSTS WHEN YOU SAY: “DO IT FOR ME”
Now here’s the hack.
When someone gives you advice, don’t argue.
Don’t explain.
Just say:
“Thanks for the advice. Now do it for me.”
Watch what happens.
They freeze.
They stammer.
They vanish.
They were not offering help.
They were staging a performance.
The moment you convert their speech into responsibility, they become invisible — faster than your salary after rent payment.
Try it. It works on bosses, parents, neighbours, yoga instructors, and aunties at weddings.
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SECTION 4: ADVICE IS INDIA’S CHEAPEST POWER DRUG
In a society where most people feel powerless, advice is their low-cost ego boost.
It costs nothing.
It risks nothing.
It achieves nothing.
But it makes them feel important.
That man with five lifestyle diseases?
He’ll advise you on diet.
That woman who screams at her maid?
She’ll teach you emotional intelligence.
That cousin who borrowed money and vanished?
He’ll coach you on financial discipline.
Advice isn’t about you.
It’s about their hunger to feel superior.
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SECTION 5: INDIA’S INSTITUTIONS — FACTORIES OF EMPTY INSTRUCTIONS
Schools advise students to “think creatively” — right before punishing them for doing so.
Doctors advise “lifestyle change” — without ever asking about your lifestyle.
TV debates advise the youth to save the nation — while the panelists shout like drunk parrots.
The government issues slogans.
The spiritual leaders give sermons.
The corporates push webinars.
Everyone talks.
Nobody listens.
Nobody acts.
India is a nation where “awareness” is confused with action, and “advice” replaces accountability.
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SECTION 6: LEARN THE ART OF THE COUNTERATTACK
Here’s your survival kit:
When they say:
“You should lose weight.”
You say: “Perfect! Come cook for me for a month.”
When they say:
“You should think positive.”
You say: “Fantastic. Pay my EMIs and let’s test my mindset.”
When they say:
“Don’t overthink.”
You say: “Too late. Now it’s your job to handle my life.”
They’ll never return.
And peace will return.
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CONCLUSION: A NEW RULE FOR AN OLD PROBLEM
India doesn’t need more startups.
It needs shutdowns — of uninvited mouths.
Let’s make it a cultural shift:
No advice without accountability.
No wisdom without skin in the game.
No “should” without “shall I help?”
Because when someone really wants your good, they’ll roll up their sleeves — not their tongue.
So next time someone comes at you with:
“You know what you should do?”
Just smile and say:
“Yes. You should do it for me.”
Then watch them run faster than your 4G ever did.
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THANKS FOR THE ADVICE, NOW DO IT FOR ME
A Rant for the Indian Advice Givers
they come in like flies
on overripe fruit—
full of sugar talk
and maggot wisdom.
“you should eat less.”
“you must save more.”
“you ought to wake up early.”
“you need to stay positive.”
and there they are—
uncle with a paunch so round
it could host a Diwali buffet,
auntie with a tongue sharper
than her kitchen knife,
neighbor who hasn’t paid rent
since the Modi government’s first term,
friend who failed ten exams
but knows which career you should choose.
they are everywhere,
sitting like dried stains
on plastic chairs,
mouths leaking clichés
like leaking taps,
dripping “should,” “must,” “don’t,”
into every damn cup of chai.
they have no time to help
but all the time to advise.
no patience to listen
but endless breath to speak.
and when I say—
“thanks for the advice, now do it for me,”
oh boy,
they vanish.
you see their spirit leaving the body
like air from a punctured scooter tyre.
their ego collapses,
their slippers fly,
and the world gains
one square foot of silence.
they are not advisors.
they are performers
acting wise
on a crumbling stage
of their own insecurity.
they don’t want your healing.
they want your confusion
to worship their second-hand clarity.
they’re addicts,
hooked on the drug
of unsolicited significance.
but I’m clean now.
no more swallowing their vomit
served as “blessings.”
no more nodding to their nonsense
dressed as tradition.
do it for me, I say—
and watch their legend die.
watch their wisdom run barefoot
into the ditch of forgotten heroes.
because real people help.
the rest
just advise,
then disappear
like cowards
into the convenience
of irrelevance.
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