ROBERT KIYOSAKI'S MONOLOGUE

 ROBERT KIYOSAKI’S MONOLOGUE

 

The study was dimly lit, light from the table lamp illuminating the desk and the walls behind it. Robert sat in his soft leather chair, fingers fiddling with the armrest. His eyes locked onto the photograph of his father hanging on the wall—his Poor Dad. The laminated doctorate certificate hung beside the wall, a symbol of achievement, academic excellence, and respect. But was it the only answer?

 

“All that education,” he whispered, shaking his head. “All those degrees, first class, first throughout. And yet, Dad, you struggled. You did everything right, didn’t you? You worked hard, played by the rules, were a model citizen, and earned promotions. But that’s just it: “earned”, “worked”, “slogged”, and “struggled”. Always against the current, always pushing uphill.”

He sighed deeply, his thoughts turning to the lessons from his rich dad—the man with no formal education but a wealth of knowledge far more valuable than any degree.

 

He grew animated as if trying to explain to his Poor Dad, even though he was the only one in the room.

 

“You taught me to get a steady job and earn a steady paycheck. But Rich Dad? He said, “Don’t think about money. Think about what money buys you assets. You spent your life working, Dad, but Rich Dad taught me to make money work for me.”

 

He exited his comfortable chair and began pacing the room, his thoughts a whirlwind of emotions gaining momentum. The walls felt like they were closing in, filled with memories and lessons.

 

“I remember when Rich Dad first said the golden mantra: “The rich invest in assets, the poor invest in liabilities.” It went over my head then. But now, it’s obvious. People with low incomes think short-term- immediate gain, instant gratification. But the rich? They think long term, planting seeds for the future, always pruning and tending their plants that would one day blossom in their fields. While everyone is waiting for the end of the month for their paycheck, they’re buying real estate, starting businesses, building streams of income that will keep flowing even when they stop working.”

 

He stopped pacing and again turned to the photo of his Dad, locking his eyes with his smiling face on the wall. His tone softened, almost deep in reflection.

 

“I know you wanted the best for me. You taught me discipline, hard work, respect for learning and education, and the value of education. And I do. But Rich Dad taught me something else—he taught me freedom—financial freedom. He taught me it’s not about being the smartest or having degrees. It’s understanding the game.”

 

The room seemed to close in, and the ghosts of both his fathers scrutinised him now, waiting for his following utterances.

 

“You know the biggest mistake people make, Dad? It’s not that they don’t work hard. It’s that they don’t learn how to be rich. They don’t learn the rules of money. They work for it without realising they could make it work for them. They spend a lifetime playing safe, never investing in assets. But what’s safe? Working forty years for a company gives it your blood, sweat, and tears, and they could easily replace you tomorrow.”

 

His voice went up, and a feeling of conviction coursed through him.

 

“Rich Dad said it best,” “The moment you take full responsibility for your financial future is when you stop being poor.” That’s what I’ve learned. That’s what you didn’t see, Dad. Responsibility. Ownership. Wealth is not luck. It’s not handed to you. It’s built. It’s taught. It’s earned by taking risks, thinking beyond the measly paycheck, beyond the comfort of security.”

 

He leaned back in his chair, his breath coming in gasps. His hands ran through his thick hair, and his mind raced.

 

“It’s funny,” he chuckled bitterly, “The richest lessons were never in a textbook. It was in my conversations with Rich Dad, sitting at his kitchen table. He didn’t have a doctorate, but he had wisdom. He understood assets, liabilities, long-term vision, and responsibility. And that is why Dad…that’s why he is stinking rich.”

 

Robert Kiyosaki closed his eyes, his father’s photo on the wall staring back at him, a silent witness to a truth that had taken him years to grasp fully.

 

“Thank you both,” he whispered, voice choked with emotion. “One taught me to survive; the other taught me to thrive."