
In a world driven by constant innovation, technology users are unknowingly caught in a cycle of frequent upgrades and replacements. Smartphones, laptops, and even home appliances seem to lose their efficiency just when they should be performing their best. Behind this pattern lies a deliberate strategy—designing products with a limited lifespan to push consumers toward newer models.
Many tech companies use a concept known as “planned obsolescence.” It means products are intentionally designed to become outdated or less functional after a certain period. This can be through weaker batteries, software updates that slow older devices, or parts that are too costly or difficult to replace. The goal isn’t just innovation—it’s profit. By shortening product lifespans, companies ensure consumers return to the market sooner than necessary.
Take smartphones as an example. A user buys a device worth ₹60,000, expecting it to last at least four years. Yet within two years, the battery performance dips, storage fills faster, and system updates begin to lag. Repairing or replacing parts often costs almost as much as buying a new model. This nudges consumers toward the latest release, keeping the sales cycle alive.
Laptops, printers, and even smartwatches follow similar patterns. Many brands limit access to spare parts or make repairs exclusive to authorized centers that charge premium rates. In India, where repair culture once thrived, such restrictions are slowly eroding the habit of fixing and reusing. For middle-class families in Tier 1 and Tier 2 cities, these costs can be significant, yet the pressure to stay “updated” remains strong.
The environmental cost is another concern. Early product failure contributes to rising e-waste, one of the fastest-growing waste streams in India. According to recent studies, millions of discarded gadgets end up in informal recycling centers, where unsafe disposal methods harm both workers and the environment. While governments and advocacy groups are pushing for right-to-repair laws, awareness among consumers remains low.
There’s also the psychological side of tech marketing. Advertisements constantly highlight the “next big thing,” convincing users that newer automatically means better. This mindset turns durable goods into disposable commodities. A phone that still works fine suddenly feels outdated when the latest version launches with slightly improved features or design tweaks.
However, a slow shift is visible. Some consumers now prioritize sustainability over novelty. Independent repair shops, refurbished device markets, and digital awareness campaigns are gaining ground in urban India. The push for “right to repair” legislation could empower buyers to extend their gadget’s life without depending entirely on brand-authorized services.
The truth is, most tech products don’t have to fail as early as they do. The technology to make longer-lasting devices already exists—it’s just rarely prioritized. Until consumers demand transparency and durability, the cycle of buying, replacing, and discarding will continue. What this really means is that the change has to start with how we value technology—not as something to replace every year, but as something to preserve for the long run.