Every year, thousands of young Punjabis board flights from Delhi or Amritsar with a one-way ticket, a stuffed suitcase, and a heart full of dreams. The family throws a party. The neighbours say "paa laye visa, vadhaiyaan!" And for a few weeks, you feel like you've made it.
But then you land. And reality hits different.
I've spoken to dozens of NRIs on the Puadh Punjabi Podcast — from software engineers in Toronto to nurses in Melbourne to cab drivers in London. And every single one of them said the same thing: "I wish someone had told me the truth before I left."
So here it is. The 10 things NRIs wish they knew before moving abroad — no filter, no sugar-coating, just the raw truth from people who've lived it.
- The "Dollar Dream" Has a Hidden Tax
- Loneliness Hits Different Than You Think
- Your Degree Might Not Matter (At First)
- Credit Score Is Your New God
- Desi Food Will Break Your Heart (and Wallet)
- Winter Depression Is Real — Prepare for It
- You Will Miss the Sound of Puadh
- Friendships Take Real Effort Now
- Money Can't Buy Time with Aging Parents
- You'll Become Prouder of Your Roots
01. The "Dollar Dream" Has a Hidden Tax
Back in Punjab, your uncle tells you: "Canada vich $60,000 milegi, rupees vich 40 lakh! Set ho jaayega." What he doesn't tell you is that $60,000 in Canada feels like ₹8 lakh in Punjab — not ₹40 lakh.
Here's why: rent for a basic apartment in Toronto or Vancouver is $2,000–$2,500/month. Groceries for one person? $400–$600. Car insurance as a new immigrant? $300–$500/month (and that's if you're lucky). Then there's income tax (25–35%), phone bills, transit, and the occasional emergency.
A $60,000 salary in Canada = roughly $3,800/month after tax. After rent, groceries, insurance, and bills, you're left with $300–$500 for the entire month. That's not "settled." That's surviving.
This isn't to say you won't earn well — you will, eventually. But the first 2–3 years are a grind. The dollar looks big on paper, but it shrinks fast when every single expense is multiplied by 83.
Before you move, calculate your actual monthly expenses in the destination city — not the national average. Use Numbeo.com or ask someone who actually lives there. The gap between "expected savings" and "actual savings" will shock you.
02. Loneliness Hits Different Than You Think
In Punjab, you're never alone. Your cousin shows up unannounced. Your neighbour asks what you made for dinner. The street vendor knows your name. There's noise, chaos, people — and it's beautiful.
Abroad? You come home to an empty apartment at 6 PM. No one calls. No one visits. The silence is so loud it physically hurts. You scroll Instagram and see your friends in Mohali having a rooftop party, and your chest tightens.
Multiple NRIs on my podcast described the same feeling: "I was surrounded by millions of people, but I'd never felt more alone in my life."
The loneliness isn't just about people — it's about cultural isolation. You can't joke in Puadhi because no one gets it. You can't explain why Lohri hits different because your colleagues don't even know what Lohri is. You become a stranger in every room you enter.
Before moving, find your local Gurudwara, Punjabi community group, or even a regional association (like a Puadh/Punjabi cultural society). These connections will be your lifeline in the first year. Don't wait for loneliness to find you — find your people first.
03. Your Degree Might Not Matter (At First)
This one hurts the most. You did B.Tech from Chandigarh University. Or MBA from Punjabi University, Patiala. You graduated with honours. Your family threw a party. You were somebody.
Then you land abroad and discover that your degree — the one your parents took a loan for — is worth nothing without "local experience" or "accreditation."
I spoke to a software developer from Mohali on the podcast who had 5 years of experience in India. In Canada? He couldn't get a single interview. They wanted "Canadian experience." He ended up driving Uber for 8 months before he finally broke through.
Many regulated professions (nursing, pharmacy, engineering, law, teaching) require you to pass local licensing exams that can take 1–3 years. During that time, you'll likely work a "survival job" — warehouse, delivery, retail, or driving. Prepare mentally for this before you go, not after.
This isn't failure. It's the toll booth on the highway to your new life. Every NRI who made it went through this phase. But knowing it's coming makes it easier to survive.
04. Credit Score Is Your New God
In Punjab, if you have cash, you're king. Abroad? If you don't have credit history, you're invisible.
Want to rent an apartment? They check your credit score. Want to buy a car? Credit score. Want a credit card? You can't get one — because you have no credit history. But you can't build credit history without a credit card. It's a perfect, infuriating circle.
Nobody in Punjab tells you this. Your IELTS coach didn't cover it. Your immigration consultant didn't mention it. But your credit score will determine where you live, what you drive, and how much interest you pay for the next 10 years.
1. Get a secured credit card immediately (you deposit $500, they give you a $500
limit).
2. Put one small expense on it per month (like a $20 Netflix subscription).
3. Pay it off in full every single month — never carry a balance.
4. Within 6–8 months, you'll have a score good enough to upgrade. Within 2
years, you'll be in the 700+ range.
05. Desi Food Will Break Your Heart (and Wallet)
You think you'll just cook at home. How hard can it be? Your mom makes dal makhani look effortless. But then you try, and it tastes like disappointment. The dal doesn't soften right. The rotis are stiff as cardboard. And the spices from the "Indian store" cost 3x what they cost in Sector 22 mandi.
Going to an Indian restaurant? That's $18–$25 for a single paneer dish that your dadi makes better. And don't even get me started on "butter chicken" abroad — it's sweet, orange, and deeply wrong.
The real pain isn't the food — it's what the food represents. It's Sunday morning parathas with your family. It's the chai your dad makes at 5 PM. It's the prasad from the Gurudwara. Food is love, and when you can't taste that love anymore, something inside you breaks.
Before you leave Punjab, spend 2 weeks in the kitchen with your mom. Learn 5 dishes by heart — dal, sabzi, rice, roti, and one chicken/meat dish. These 5 recipes will save you thousands of dollars and give you a piece of home when you need it most.
06. Winter Depression Is Real — Prepare for It
You've heard about cold weather. You bought a jacket. You think you're ready. You're not.
In Canada, the UK, or parts of Northern Europe and the US, winter doesn't just mean cold — it means darkness. The sun rises at 8 AM and sets by 4 PM. For months. You go to work in the dark and come home in the dark. Some days, you don't see sunlight at all.
This causes something called Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) — a type of depression triggered by lack of sunlight. It affects up to 1 in 3 immigrants in cold climates. Symptoms include: constant fatigue, low mood, overeating, social withdrawal, and a feeling of heaviness that won't go away.
If you feel persistently sad, empty, or hopeless for more than 2 weeks during winter — this is not "just homesickness." It's a medical condition. Most health insurance plans abroad cover therapy. Use it. There's zero shame in getting help. Your mind is your most important asset.
What helps: Vitamin D supplements (start before winter), a light therapy lamp ($30–$50 on Amazon), regular exercise, and keeping a routine. The NRIs who survive winter are the ones who plan for it — not the ones who hope it won't be that bad.
07. You Will Miss the Sound of Puadh
This one surprised me the most. On the podcast, I asked every NRI guest: "What do you miss the most about Punjab?" Almost none of them said "the food" or "the weather." The #1 answer? The sound.
The sound of the autowalla arguing in Puadhi. The sound of your neighbour's TV playing a Punjabi song at full volume. The sound of kids playing in the gali. The sound of the rehri-wala calling out "chhole bhature! gol gappe!" The sound of your village gurudwara's speaker at 5 AM.
Abroad, the sounds are different. Sirens. Cars. English. Silence. No one speaks your language — and I don't mean Punjabi. I mean your language. The dialect. The slang. The way your people say "ki haal ae?" with that specific Puadhi tone that no other dialect has.
One guest from Ropar told me: "I put on your podcast at night not for the content — but because hearing Puadhi spoken properly helps me fall asleep. It's the only thing that makes me feel like I'm still there." That hit me hard.
If you're reading this from abroad right now and feeling this — read our guide to the Puadhi dialect. It won't bring you home, but it'll remind you of who you are.
08. Friendships Take Real Effort Now
In Punjab, friendships are effortless. Your school friend lives 5 minutes away. Your college buddy drops by whenever he wants. You don't "schedule" meeting someone — you just show up.
Abroad, friendship becomes a calendar event. "Hey, are you free Saturday the 14th at 2 PM? We can grab coffee." And that's if you're lucky enough to have someone to ask.
Making friends as an adult immigrant is one of the hardest things you'll ever do. People already have their circles. They're busy. They're polite — but politeness is not friendship. You'll have 50 acquaintances and 0 people who'd pick you up from the airport at midnight.
1. Join something — a gym, a cricket club, a Punjabi cultural association, a
running group.
2. Be the one who initiates. Always. For 6 months. It's exhausting but
necessary.
3. Find other new immigrants — they're just as desperate for connection as you
are.
4. Quality > quantity. 2 real friends beat 20 party acquaintances.
09. Money Can't Buy Time with Aging Parents
This is the heaviest one. And the one nobody wants to talk about.
When you leave Punjab, your parents are maybe 50–55. They look fine. They're active. They say "ja puttar, apna kaam kar, asi theek haan." And you believe them. Because you want to believe them.
But then 5 years pass. Then 7. Then 10. And one day you get a call at 3 AM. And your world stops. You book the first flight — but it takes 24 hours to get there. And sometimes, 24 hours is too long.
I'm not saying don't go. I'm saying: call them every single day. Not once a week. Every. Single. Day. Video call. Send photos. Visit every year — not every 3 years. And if you can afford it, bring them to stay with you for a few months. Those months will be the most precious of your life.
Every NRI I've interviewed says the same thing: "I earned dollars, but I lost years with my parents. And no amount of money can buy those back."
10. You'll Become Prouder of Your Roots
Here's the beautiful paradox of moving abroad: the further you go, the more connected you feel to where you came from.
In Punjab, you probably took things for granted — the culture, the language, the traditions, the warmth. But when you're sitting in a Toronto apartment on Diwali night with no firecrackers, no mithai, and no family — suddenly, every moment you had back home becomes precious.
You start learning about Puadh's history — the region your parents came from, the villages, the dialect, the forgotten stories. You start listening to Punjabi podcasts not just for entertainment, but because they sound like home. You start cooking Punjabi food with a passion you never had when it was just "what mom made."
Distance doesn't disconnect you from your roots — it deepens them. The NRIs who thrive abroad are the ones who don't try to erase where they came from. They carry Puadh in their accent, their kitchen, their values, and their pride. That's not weakness — that's strength.
If this article hit you in the chest, that's a good sign. It means your roots are strong. And strong roots grow the tallest trees — no matter which soil they're planted in.
Final Thoughts: It's Worth It — But Not the Way You Think
Moving abroad will be the hardest thing you ever do. Harder than your IELTS exam. Harder than your visa application. Harder than the 16-hour flight with a suitcase that's 5 kg overweight.
But it will also be the most transformative. You'll discover a version of yourself you never knew existed — stronger, more resilient, more grateful, more rooted. You'll earn more than money. You'll earn perspective.
Just go in with your eyes open. Not just with dreams — but with a plan. And whenever you need to hear the sound of home, the Puadh Podcast will be here.