How Are You, Really? | Breaking the Silence Among Indian Men

Indian men, redefining strength, Men's Circle

It’s a question many Indian men have rarely been asked — and if they have, they’ve likely answered with a nod, a joke, or a shrug.

Growing up, we were taught to be strong, to "man up," to push through. Emotions were for later — or not at all.

But what happens when "later" never comes? What happens when pain hardens into silence, and silence into isolation?

The Culture of Silence: Where Strength Meant Hiding Pain

I grew up in a world where silence was seen as strength.

Fathers worked tirelessly but rarely spoke about the weight they carried.

Uncles laughed loudly at weddings, yet you could feel exhaustion in the quiet corners.

Crying — especially for boys — was something to be hidden or "fixed."

So we learned.

We brushed emotions under the carpet.

We converted pain into sarcasm.

We coped with uncertainty by controlling what we could — our image, our success, our silence.

But silence doesn’t heal.

It hardens.

When Emotions Go Unspoken: Why Indian Men Struggles to Open Up

Many Indian men do want to talk — they just don’t always know how.

Ask about cricket, politics, or Netflix shows, and the conversation flows.

But ask, "How are you doing, really?" — and the atmosphere changes.

The voice trails off.

The gaze shifts.

It’s as if a door quietly closes.

That hesitation doesn’t come out of nowhere.

A lot of us grew up in homes where emotions weren’t spoken — only shown and subtly.

Love was a packed tiffin, not a hug.

Tears from fathers were so rare that when they came, you knew something was truly wrong.

We learned early:

Being strong meant staying silent.

Being vulnerable meant risking respect.

Over time, that silence becomes a habit — a shield we carry into adulthood.

Many men still carry beliefs like:

"I’m only as valuable as what I provide.

"If I show sadness, I’ll lose respect."

So instead of sharing what’s going on inside, they put on a smile.

Stay busy.

Work harder.

Joke around.

Pour another drink.

But pain doesn’t disappear when ignored — it just finds quieter ways to live inside us.

Loneliness Abroad: The Untold Story of Indian Men in Australia

Now imagine carrying all this — the silence, the pressure, the fear of vulnerability — into a new country.

For many Indian men in Australia, especially those away from family, loneliness becomes a quiet companion.

It shows up in long hours, muted weekends, and scrolling through old photos late at night.

In India, the community was everywhere — neighbours, friends, festivals.

Here, it's different.

There’s no chai stall at the corner.

No neighbour casually asking, "Tu theek hai?" just because your face looked off.

That’s the gap.

That’s what’s missing.

The Namaste Network: Creating Space for Authentic Conversations

And that’s where The Namaste Network began — not as a solution, but as an invitation.

A small, welcoming space where Indian men could show up without performance.

No need to explain.

No need to hide.

We meet over dinner.

We talk about films, cricket, fathers, frustrations — sometimes serious, sometimes silly.

And slowly, the walls come down.

Someone shares about a tough week.

Someone else admits they've never cried in front of their family.

In those small, brave moments, something shifts.

Redefining Strength: Vulnerability Is Not Weakness

This isn’t therapy.

It’s not a workshop.

It’s simply a space —where men are allowed to be human, where strength doesn’t mean silence.

If you're an Indian man carrying the weight of unspoken things, or someone who loves one, know this:

The need for connection is real.

And there’s far more room for it than we've been led to believe.