‘Please don’t become who we are’: Ankur Warikoo’s letters to his kids, Vidur and Uzma, will make every parent pause

Ankur Warikoo has shared a deeply personal glimpse into parenthood through 10 letters he says he “never wrote but should have” for his children, Vidur and Uzma. In a post on X, the entrepreneur reflected on tender childhood memories, from Vidur choosing his sister over a much-wanted bicycle to Uzma dancing freely in front of a mirror. His words touch on kindness, curiosity, family, identity and staying connected to one's roots, offering an emotional look at the lessons parents hope their children carry through life.

Warikoo’s message to Vidur

One of the most striking letters was addressed to his son Vidur. Warikoo recalled how Vidur would sometimes cry while watching cartoons because he felt something was unfair. Rather than dismissing those emotions, Warikoo hoped his son would never lose that sensitivity. He wrote that he hoped Vidur's definition of what is unfair would “remain just as pure.”

Another childhood memory took Warikoo back to when Vidur was five and desperately wanted a bicycle. The family could not initially afford it, but they somehow managed to get one for him. When Vidur finally saw the bicycle, he broke down. Warikoo and his family then asked him what the best gift he had ever received from them was. They expected him to name the bicycle. His answer was “Uzma.” Warikoo responded emotionally, calling his son “so precious, meri jaan.”

His daughter's arrival came with unexpected worries

Warikoo also wrote candidly to his daughter Uzma, admitting that before she arrived, he had worried about whether the family really needed another child. He recalled being concerned that she might be another boy and joking about having “2 boys”. He was also worried that he would not have enough time for her. But those fears disappeared after she entered their lives.


“I am so glad you came to our world,” he wrote, adding, “You complete me.” The letter captures the uncertainty that can accompany major changes in a family, while also showing how deeply a child's arrival can reshape those feelings.

‘You did the right thing’: The rain memory

Another letter to Vidur focused on a seemingly ordinary childhood moment. Warikoo recalled trying to get his son to sleep when Vidur simply wanted to stand by the window and feel the raindrops. Instead of openly resisting, Vidur pretended to sleep. Once his parents left, he went back to the window to experience the rain.
Warikoo's response was simple: “You did the right thing.”

For him, the memory appears to represent something bigger than disobedience. It was about allowing a child to experience curiosity and wonder in his own way.

His daughter reminds him to enjoy life

Warikoo also reflected on another habit of Uzma's. Whenever she stood in front of the mirror, singing and dancing without worrying about how she looked or sounded, he said she reminded him “how wonderful life is.”
“Thank you,” he wrote. It is a small observation, but one that captures the freedom children often have to enjoy a moment without worrying about judgment.

The meaning behind Vidur and Uzma’s names

Warikoo also brought humour into his letters while reflecting on his children's names. He explained that Uzma's name means “the greatest” in Urdu, immediately adding, “No pressure!” Similarly, he wrote that Vidur's name means “the intelligent or wise one” in Hindi, again following it with the playful line, “No pressure!” The jokes carry a tender reminder that names can come with meanings and expectations, but children should still be allowed to define themselves.

The little girl who ‘read’ before she could read

Another letter to Uzma looked back at her early relationship with books. Warikoo recalled that as a young child, she would sit with books and read to herself despite not actually knowing how to read. She would simply “blabber”, enjoying the experience as though someone else were reading the book to her. What touched Warikoo was that the same enjoyment remained even as she grew older. “It is the same way you read books today,” he wrote, adding that he loved that about her.

The bicycle was not what mattered most

Perhaps one of the most touching moments in the letters is the story of Vidur's bicycle. The family had gone to some lengths to fulfil his wish for the bicycle. Yet when asked about his favourite gift, Vidur chose his sister instead. The memory reveals how children can place value on things that adults may not anticipate. What seemed like a major material gift to his parents was less important to Vidur than the relationship he had with his sister.

'Don't become who we are'

Vidur's habit of sharing inspired another powerful letter. Warikoo said that whenever his son asked him to share money, ice cream or biscuits with children on the street who did not have what they had, it reminded him of “how all of us were, before we became who we are.” That thought led to perhaps the most striking line in the entire collection: “Please don't become who we are.”

The message appears to be less about rejecting success and more about not allowing success, comfort or privilege to erase empathy.

‘Don’t ever forget where you have come from’

Warikoo's final letter was addressed to Uzma and focused on something deeply personal: the way she addresses her brother. She calls Vidur “dada”, which Warikoo explained means brother in Bengali and grandfather in Hindi. He noted that she had not yet realised the second meaning. When she eventually does, Warikoo hopes she does not change the way she says it simply because it might sound unusual. Instead, he wants her to keep it because “that is where you have come from.”

He ended the letter with a simple message: “Don't ever forget where you have come from.”

Across the 10 letters, Warikoo's memories move between humour, affection and introspection. A bicycle, a book, a rainy window, a mirror dance and even a child's choice of nickname become reminders of the values he hopes Vidur and Uzma carry with them as they grow older.