We grew up in India believing that family is everything. That no matter how tough life gets, family will be your safety net — always ready to catch you before you fall. That when the world questions you, your family will defend you. That in every major celebration or crisis, they will stand by your side — unshaken, unwavering.
And in many ways, they do.
Weddings, festivals, housewarmings, birthdays — you’ll never find yourself alone during these events. Relatives you haven’t seen in years will show up. Uncles will crack the same old jokes. Aunties will sit in circles and exchange stories. Cousins will rehearse a dance together. In-laws will smile and bless you like you’re one of their own. It all feels beautifully overwhelming — like one large emotional ecosystem moving in harmony.
But what happens when the music stops?
What happens when you don’t follow the expected script — when you choose something unconventional? When did you leave your corporate job to start your own business? When do you decide to pause everything and take care of your mental health? When you fail, fall, or simply take a path they don’t understand?
That’s when silence sets in.
Not always out of cruelty. Sometimes out of discomfort. Often out of fear. But mostly because we’ve mistaken being present at functions for being present in life.
Your uncles, who were front row at your engagement, now avoid asking how your startup is going. Your cousins who made Instagram reels with you at the wedding don’t check in when you disappear for a week. Your in-laws, who call you ‘beta,’ don’t ask why your eyes look tired in every family Zoom call. And even your parents — loving as they are — sometimes can’t understand why you’re not “normal” anymore.
Support becomes seasonal. Conditional. Social, not emotional.
We’re surrounded by people, yet feel utterly alone.
Because we’ve created a culture where the performance of the family is prioritized over the practice of care. Where being there means attending a ceremony, but not sitting down for a real, raw conversation. Where we confuse the number of people at a function with the number of people who actually ask, “How are you really doing?”
And in that gap — between what is shown and what is truly felt — lies a deep loneliness. A kind of ache that doesn’t come from lack of love, but from lack of emotional availability.
We don’t talk about it enough, but we must. Because this is how mental health quietly deteriorates. This is how people, even in the middle of large families, slip into depression. This is how suicides happen — not because people are weak, but because they feel unseen in a room full of people who claim to care.
Family is not just your parents or your siblings. It’s your entire ecosystem — your uncles, aunts, cousins, in-laws — people who play major roles in shaping your emotional world. Their silence matters. Their absence during tough times stings. Their inability to ask the right questions can sometimes push someone to the edge.
And support isn’t only about checking in when things go wrong — it’s also about cheering when someone tries something new.
When a cousin starts an Instagram page or YouTube channel, don’t just scroll past — like it, share it, leave a kind comment.
When your niece launches a small business, don’t just wait to see if it succeeds — talk about it in your groups, connect her with someone, and show genuine interest.
When your brother posts about a job requirement on LinkedIn, write two thoughtful lines of appreciation, share it in your network, and ask him about it next time you call.
These small gestures take seconds, but they tell a person, “I see you. I believe in you.”
Sometimes, the most powerful thing you can say to someone is, “I’m proud of you.”
Say it over a call. Send it in a message. Let them hear it from you, not just strangers on the internet.
To the ones who are building something from scratch — the entrepreneurs, the creators, the silent warriors of new beginnings — you are not alone in feeling this way. And it’s okay to expect more from your family.
And to those who are part of this vast family web, if you truly love someone, don’t wait for an occasion.
Be the first to clap when they try, not just when they win.
Be the one who notices their courage, not just their achievements.
Let’s redefine what support means. Let’s stop mistaking being around for being present. Let’s stop saying “We’re always there for you” and start proving it.
Let’s make family mean something more — something real.
Shreyas Trivedi 
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