Inflation: Slowly but surely…

I remember watching the water drip after the rains steadily from a old tin roof. At first, it seems harmless, just a few drops falling onto the same spot every day. But over the years, those tiny drops would slowly wear away even a solid rock beneath them. No single drop causes damage, it is the quiet, constant dripping that does the work. You don't notice it in a day, a month, or even a year. But little by little, it chips away at the value of your savings. This slow loss of value is called inflation. It simply means that, over time, the price of things—rice, vegetables, school fees, bus fares, medicines—tend to rise. A hundred rupees today will not buy what a hundred rupees bought ten years ago, and it certainly will not buy much ten years later.

Aaji used to keep her savings the same way for the last fifty years, safely in a tin box in the teak cupboard. It had grown slowly over decades; with savings she set aside from selling sabji at Lal Bazaar. When she passed away last year, the family found nearly two lakh rupees in that box. It was her legacy.

The family sadly realized what that money could buy today, compared to what it could have bought when his grandmother started saving. The same two lakh rupees that once could have built a small business, can barely cover a decent school admission now. The money has not been lost, but its power to buy things had been slipping.

Our grandparents lived in a world where prices moved slowly, so keeping cash safely at home felt reasonable. Today, prices move faster, driven by fuel costs, transport charges into the hills, and the rising cost of goods carried up from the plains. Add rising prices on top of that, and the effect on a family's daily budget is real. This is how markets behave over long periods of time and that safety-net, the trusted kantoor, quietly loses value each year.

The mountains have taught us to watch for small holes in the roof before they become bigger. Perhaps our money deserves the same quiet attention. It slips away slowly, unnoticed, until the day we realize how much less it can carry.