Monojit Lahiri wonders whether, in an age when the price of everything is skyrocketing, the role, relevance and value of grief is taking an unprecedented nose-dive!

Once celebrated as natural and cathartic, expressions of sorrow and joy have been replaced by stoic posturing and Western-influenced restraint. Psychologist Neha Sarin challenges this shift, urging Indians to embrace their emotionally vibrant roots. With cultural references like Rudalis and a nostalgic nod to Bollywood’s golden era of emotional lyricism, this essay explores how society's new rules attempt to suppress the very emotions that define us — and why, in the face of true tragedy, our Indian hearts will always rebel.

Mark Antony’s passionate plea in Julius Caesar — “If you have tears, prepare to shed them now” — may be hailed as great theatre, but in 2025, it feels dramatically out of place. Once, not very long ago, joy and sorrow were expressed publicly, without shame or hesitation. People screamed in excitement, wailed in grief, and these raw, uninhibited expressions were considered natural, even necessary. I clearly remember the communal outpourings of grief at a loved one’s passing—grief so loud it could shake the walls—but it was never embarrassing. It was real, cathartic, cleansing. Life in close-up, warts and all, accepted without cosmetic filters or social censorship.

Crying is Not Cool Anymore

Fast-forward to today, and grief in the public eye has all but disappeared. In our hyper-curated world, where image is everything, visible sorrow is often seen as a weakness. Expressing raw emotion in public is labelled outdated, immature, even uncool. "If you must cry," say the unspoken rules, "do it privately." Because, apparently, grief is now bad etiquette. It’s not done, dude. Just not cricket. Not even kabaddi!

One curious outcome of modern Indian society is its blind imitation of Western stoicism. Restraint, composure, and smiling through heartbreak have become aspirational. Emotional detachment is paraded as sophistication, and the stiff upper lip is now part of the Indian aesthetic. Delhi-based psychologist Neha Sarin openly scoffs at this imported dramabaazi. “Who are these people trying to impress? Imported values are not blood transfusions; they don’t work for us desis!” she asserts.

According to Sarin, Indians are naturally expressive. “We’re loud, passionate, and over-the-top. That’s not a flaw. That’s our identity. If that makes us ganwaars (country bumpkins), so be it. We are like that only!”

Rudalis and the Ritual of Grief

Sarin reminds us that demonstrative grief was once not just accepted but institutionalized. In Rajasthan, professional mourners known as Rudalis were hired to express sorrow for families too inhibited to weep publicly. Mourning was art, ritual, and community healing. It gave space for closure and catharsis. Today, in contrast, grief has lost its soul, shaped instead by hyper-consumption and self-image management. We live in times of slogans like Just Do It and Oh Yes, Abhi! — where hustle culture dominates and emotions are dismissed as inefficiencies.

Once upon a time, the most cherished Bollywood songs were paeans to longing and heartbreak. Lyricists like Sahir, Kaifi, Majrooh, Shakeel, Shailendra, Gulzar, and Javed Akhtar captured the bitter-sweetness of love, loss, and yearning. Today, the emotional depth of those timeless ballads has been replaced by high-energy item songs, trading soul for spectacle.

Emotions Always Find a Way Back

Yet, when loss strikes home—when someone close is truly suffering or gone—all pretences fall away. No amount of Western polish or social grooming can hold back the tidal wave of emotion. Because at the end of the day, no matter what the new-age rulebook says or how Coke-Pizza our lifestyles have become, phir bhi dil hai Hindustani.