This festive season, can we please call a truce? A truce to stop playing the age-old social game of Passing the Parcel—not with music and chairs, but with gifts nobody wants.
We’ve all been there. You unwrap a gift with polite anticipation, and out comes… an agarbatti stand. Yes, this Rakhi, my well-meaning cousin, gifted my son—currently living in a hostel—an incense-stick holder in silver which was black on one side and clearly seemed to be a used piece. When I asked her casually why she thought of this for him, she said earnestly, “We thought he could use it while praying in his room.”
Years ago, my daughter—then a teenager—received a feeder bottle from a sister-in-law who had infants at the time. She later clarified it was meant for another child in the family who was just born and that it “accidentally” landed in my home.
I wondered—what kind of accident delivers a baby bottle to a teenager? A slip of the hand, or a slip of the mind? Either way, it spoke volumes about how casually some people treat the act of gifting
Because a gift isn’t just an object—it’s a message. And sometimes, the message is that the giver wasn’t paying attention at all
Some gifts are so bizarre, they cross over from ridiculous to borderline insulting. It’s not about the price tag—it’s about the thought behind it. Zero emotion is bad enough, but when there’s also zero thought, the gift turns from token to taunt
And let’s be honest—within most Indian families, the “lady of the house” still plays curatorin-chief when it comes to gifts. She decides what goes where, and to whom. The buck stops with her—the one who prides herself on keeping traditions, relationships, and reputations intact. Which is why, when she can’t be bothered to think through something as simple yet symbolic as a gift, the lapse speaks louder than the object itself.
Take this: someone once handed me an empty sagan envelope. Empty. Another time, on my wedding anniversary, I was “gifted” a portrait of Guru Gobind Singh. Now, I’m a Hindu who has Ganeshas in every room—symbols of welcome, wisdom, and new beginnings. For me, that portrait wasn’t reverence. It was recycling. A hand-me-down gesture, stripped of thought or meaning
Faith isn’t a filler for when you can’t think of what to give. Passing off religious icons like spare crockery is not devotion—it’s dereliction. At best, it’s careless. At worst, I have no words
Thoughtless gifting isn’t harmless—it’s hollow. It’s not neutral, it’s lazy. Worse, it’s disrespectful. A gift is never about the object, it’s about the intent, the respect, the thought behind it. Everyone already has more than enough “stuff.” Gifts don’t run households or fuel economies—they exist for one reason only: to create that small, precious “feel good” moment. To say: I see you. You matter. This is for you. Strip away the thought, and all that’s left is clutter wrapped in shiny paper..
A gift, no matter how small, is supposed to be a conversation between two people. It says, I know you, I see you, and I thought of you when I saw this. Conversely, the subtext flips: I hardly care about you. A careless gift says less about what you gave—and more about how little you cared. The wrong gift isn’t neutral—it’s a silent way of saying, you don’t matter enough.
Here’s a modest proposal: Before wrapping anything, ask three simple questions—
1. Will the recipient actually use this?
2. Is it remotely suited to their stage in life?
3. Would I be happy to receive this myself?
If the answer to all three isn’t “yes,” put it back on the shelf. The world has enough feeder bottles for teenagers and incense stands for college boys.
Because when we gift without thought, we’re not giving at all—we’re just transferring an object from one cupboard to another. And that’s not a gift. That’s clutter with a ribbon. This conveyor belt of misfit gifts isn’t harmless fun—it shows how the giver is either thoughtless or callous, or both
So here’s my festive pledge: I’ll buy less, but think more. I’ll match the gift to the person, not the price tag or my convenience. And if I really can’t think of anything meaningful? I’ll give NOTHING – I will give my time and be there mindfully present and that is good enough. Or take them out for coffee. At least that’s one gift that won’t gather dust. Because the only parcel worth passing is one wrapped in thought, not bubble wrap.
