Of course this seems inevitable. Wealthy metropolitan cities such as New York City have an electric attraction which ensures the rich get richer and the bigger companies accumulate some of the best talents at a larger scale. Cooperate America gets a ton of help it doesn’t need. Every year American cities spend about 90 billion in tax breaks and cash to attract companies to move along the states. Like, oh you have Google? We want Google here too, so here’s 90 billion no big deal. Its on us. Local government don’t even pay this much towards schools, infrastructure, housing, police or prisons.

Amazon’s non disclosure agreement means that we have no idea what the city’s elected officials did to entice this billion dollar worth company.

And this is not how New Yorkers operate.

There’s already been backlash from New Yorkers, especially residents of Queens. The costs of housing will increase exponentially, and New York threatens to become one of the most expensive places to live. Look what happened to San Francisco, once quaint and quite, it is now full of traffic jams, 3000$/month studio apartments -gentrified an entire city in one big whoop. New York thrives itself for its diverse and innovative resources, all due to a variety of different kinds of people residing here. They bring in exceptional ideas that add to the social infrastructure and urban growth.

Amazon’s move to this city will be the very opposite of what New York stands for. When New York Times interviewed Amazon employees, it was found (not surprisingly) that it is an extremely ruthless work environment where employees are forced to work, despite severe health or family concerns. Male employees were talked out of spending time with their family and women who experienced stillbirth where told to work regardless the next day. Amazon, that once started as a book company, is now an evil cult taking away the human right to have a life outside of work. It exploits its workers, focusing a relentless philosophy that ‘work needs to be done no matter what’.

Sure, Amazon delivers your stuff on time. As a millennial, I succumb to the convenience of quick deliveries and low cost shipping rates. Who wouldn’t? We want hair dye and we want it now. But what happens on the Amazon warehouses, is yet another horrifying story. These are the people that parcel your goods to ensure you get what you need, just when you want it. They get less than minimum wage, they are forced to work through all their emotional and physical needs, no matter how damaging that is.

It is unethical monopoly— the need to be the best company at the cost of killing human decency.

So what do we do? Stop using it. No, really. Lets talk about ethical and privacy regulated alternatives to giant tech companies. They exist. They may be small but that is only because they have not gained momentum yet. The more we use this smaller companies, the more we support regulated consumerism.

I have created this platform to inform people about such alternatives. Add to it, have a conversation with your peers, coworkers etc.

Capitalist America is here to stay but with things becoming digitized more every day, we can make it our duty to get the service we deserve. And that is not going to be at the cost of our privacy and ethical code.

Here’s the thing about heartbreaks; they happen.

They will happen because our human hearts are fragile, weak, naive and poor. They do not predict, foresee, think rather they always take the leap. Because of its childish nature, hearts are somewhat cursed to break. Not once, not twice but probably quite a lot and heck, it would ache all the same. Now this may not fill you with hope, but I’ll tell you something else: hearts heal.

In us is a magical place where things grow and heal. If you can love so deeply with your beautiful heart, then with that same vigor you will heal that heart.

So fight. Fight so you can love again. Fight to heal. Fight so you share this love with someone else once again. Fight so you go on bettering lives and showing someone what love looks like. But mostly, fight so you can learn to love yourself again. You are, brave and selfless, to have loved the way you have. Loving someone is never about being a fool, it’s the most courageous thing you can do after loving yourself.

Continue being brave and courageous because life is absolutely hard and testing. I know it hurts in ways you cannot even tell me right now and it wouldn’t matter if I tell you I’ve been there too but know this, you are stronger than what your heart makes you believe. I’m so sorry you are going through this my darling. If I could, I’d swallow all your pain and never let it touch even the tiniest strand of hair on your arm. But accepting pain is like religion,

it’s revealing, eye opening and it kills you all at the same time.

Breathe. Sleep. Sigh. Punch. Talk to me. But take your time as you are growing and learning and the best of you is yet to come.

But whilst you do that, let me make you tea.

I cannot, for the life of me, remember a time my father showed any weakness. When we had the mission to climb 1000 steps to make it to a temple on the top of a mountain- he did it. When he couldn’t understand how text messaging worked, he learnt it. When he couldn’t fix the TV, he spent hours doing just that. When I failed my driving tests 5 times, he told me,

“There are people out there flying planes. Humans can do anything. You can drive a car.”

He has, relentlessly, spent all 72 years of his life putting his own needs aside, because all he has ever known is looking after ours.

Meet my dad.

He’s an Indian immigrant, moved to Dubai when he was in his 20’s, in hopes to find a better job opportunity that those available back home. To say he came from drags would be an understatement; my grandfather sold peanuts on the bustling streets of a village in Gujarat (India) and he had about 12 children give or take. I say give or take because at the time — with India only just gotten independence from the British, leaving the country in shambles and disarray — thousands of people were displaced, confused and starving.

I’ve been told that despite the poverty, my father was an ardent, fierce, passionate and hard working man. He managed to attend college, borrowing money from his brother and decided to pack his bags to leave for Dubai — the promise of new dreams and new opportunities.

To know him is to know his background. To understand him completely, we cannot ignore the experiences that led him to the man he is today. Indian culture is notoriously known for adding immoderate amount of pressure onto the India man — most of this holds true for the generation my father belongs to. The first immigrants. All he knew, or rather, had to know — was work to the point of exhaustion in order to provide for his family. With my mother staying back to look after us, he worked 11 hours a day, never learnt how to emotionally be there for any of us, let alone his wife. He was a questionable husband and an emotionally unavailable father- but I knew even then, he must be a great person out of his duties.

And today, as I sit next to him in the hospital, watching as he struggles to form sentences and complains about his vision — I cannot help but wonder how things would have been different had he allowed himself to express his emotions, had he allowed himself spend a few moments with us, stripped away from all the responsibilities of the immigrant struggle and mentality.

There were moments, more recently, when I knew that some aspects of his thinking were quite similar to my own. For instance, his cynical yet realistic view towards life-

“its like, life is 20% happiness and then rest of just full of shit.”

And I found myself agreeing wholeheartedly. I get where he comes from. I’m young, I’m not married and I don’t have kids, therefore knowing life to be shit may not have as many implications as it does for a 72 year old man. His cynicism, could lead to a very bleak perception of life, obsessiveness about the amount of money he’s lost in his business, and depression. When you see life for what it is- and if you don’t have the right support around you, it could lead to severe depression. I think of people like Virginia Wolf and Sylvia Plath- both born way ahead of their time. Is it true that being a genius can be a curse?

I’m telling his story because I know there’s millions of us out there going through the same. And if your own parent is first generation immigrant, hug them tonight. Sit down and listen to their story. These are monumental moments and moments like these need to be written down.

As I watch him barely able to drink water today, I know he’s still my hero. He’s my hero and always will be.