The Engineer, The Doctor, The Lawyer—and Everyone We’re Leaving Behind

Written in 2025. Archived as part of my body of work.

Over the past few months, I’ve been talking a lot about education—especially the K-12 system. And one of the many reasons I keep coming back to this space is because I’m deeply motivated by how badly it needs to change.

As someone who grew up within the system—and later stepped outside of it—I carry both the baggage 😅 and the perspective. I’m not an educator or a policy maker. I’m just someone who survived it, and that alone gives me a reason to speak. Because if you’ve been through it, you know: it’s not just outdated—it’s restrictive, relentless, and in many ways, still rooted in a worldview that no longer serves the future.

For those who don’t know, I was born and raised in India. And while my parents were never the type to insist I become a doctor or engineer, the system certainly did. In school, if you got “good” grades, it was just assumed: you were meant for one of three things.

**Engineer. Doctor. Lawyer…**Full stop.

We weren’t asked “What do you enjoy, learning?” or “What are you curious about?” You were asked, “Which coaching center should you sign up for?” Because the entire ecosystem—from school teachers to extended relatives—was wired around these three options. You’d start preparing in middle school. Sometimes later. Everyone had a plan, and that plan looked eerily the same no matter where you were.

I call them India’s Holy Trinity of Careers—not in jest, but because that’s what they are. Sacred. Untouchable. Aspirational. And especially for India’s middle class, they represented the ultimate badge of success.

I use the term deliberately. Because that’s how deeply ingrained these professions are in our psyche. Not just as job choices, but as symbols of success. Respect. Stability. Identity. Even if your parents didn’t push you toward them (and I was lucky they didn’t), society would. Friends, uncles, aunties, coaching classes, billboards—everyone had an opinion. And they all pointed in the same direction. Same intent, just different words

And to be fair—this wasn’t always about prestige.

For many growing up in rural India or small towns, these professions represented something powerful: a ticket to the big city, a shot at financial security, a way to give your family a better life. These weren’t just careers—they were escape routes and ladders.

And of course, it’s not that no one took other subjects. Plenty did. India always has artists, teachers, journalists, scientists, economists, social workers, and many more. There was never truly one single path to success. But culturally, the overemphasis on engineering, medicine, and law created a skewed hierarchy—one that sucked all the attention, resources, and validation into these three funnels. And everything else? It was either “back-up” or “risk.”

I still remember knowing more than a few people who would take up a BBA or BBM degree—not because they wanted to, but because their engineering seat hadn’t come through yet. And the moment it did? They’d drop the business degree mid-semester and jump to engineering like it was an upgrade. That’s the level of social conditioning we’ve grown up around.

Now, here’s where we need to have a real conversation.

While these careers still hold tremendous value and are absolutely vital to society, it became increasingly clear at some point that this narrow framework is out of sync with the world we live in today.

Outside the echo chamber?

The world has changed.

The careers creating the most impact—and often the most opportunity—are in fields that didn’t even exist when many of us were choosing college majors.

AI, climate innovation, UX design, creator economy, behavioral science, public policy, product strategy, digital storytelling, neurotech—these are no longer fringe ideas. They’re the backbone of the emerging economy. They’re solving complex global problems and creating new markets altogether.

Yet our academic and cultural machinery still overwhelmingly steers bright students toward the “holy trinity,” even when demand, interest, and relevance point elsewhere.

According to the All India Survey on Higher Education (AISHE) 2020–21, over 38% of Indian students are enrolled in science, tech, and engineering fields. And yet, underemployment, burnout, and job misalignment are widespread.

It’s not a skill problem. It’s a system design problem.

Many of the jobs in these traditional sectors are becoming saturated or automated. Engineering graduates often find themselves underemployed, not due to a lack of intelligence or effort, but because the skills imparted don’t always match industry needs. And while the prestige of medicine and law remains, the pathways to success in those fields are increasingly narrow and demanding, with uncertain returns, particularly for those who enter without genuine interest.

To its credit, India’s New Education Policy (NEP) 2020 is a promising step forward. It recognizes the need for flexibility, interdisciplinary thinking, and alternative pathways to success. But culture is sticky. And unless we start changing the stories we tell at home, in schools, and across dinner tables, policy alone won’t move the needle.

What was “safe” 20 years ago may be obsolete 5-10 years from now. And if we don’t prepare young people to thrive in uncertainty—if we don’t give them the tools to learn, unlearn, and pivot—they won’t be equipped for any future, let alone the one we’re moving toward.

So here’s a radical thought:

Let’s stop asking kids what they want to “become,” and start asking what they want to solve.

Let’s celebrate creative risk the same way we celebrate exam ranks.

Let’s treat coding and clay sculpting with equal curiosity.

Because the truth is—career safety is an illusion when it’s built on conformity.

In today’s world, adaptability is security. Originality is leverage. Passion is fuel.

And no child should have to spend the first 20 years of their life preparing for a career they didn’t even choose.

Because the next great innovator, artist, policy maker, or social entrepreneur might not fit the mold—but they might just shape the future.