Public Rage, Private Love: Why Indians Still Hide Their Hearts

In a country where emotions run high, it’s curious how love remains under lock and key. India, a land of Bhakti and Bollywood, where devotion and drama are woven into everyday life, still resists public displays of affection. A couple holding hands on a street corner draws frowns, a hug between friends invites whispers, and a kiss during a festival can spark a national debate, which we recently saw across social media.

What happened in Gujarat recently, when a foreign couple was caught on camera sharing a brief kiss during the Garba celebrations? What could have been an innocent gesture of affection became fodder for social media outrage. Videos went viral, and moral policing followed; soon, the couple’s intimacy was recast as an affront to tradition. Who are these jokers who become the moral police?  Is our culture averse to the expression of love?

It begs the question: why are we, as Indians, so comfortable displaying anger in public but not affection? We argue loudly in traffic, cussing is accepted, berate service staff, and indulge in road rage without restraint. Yet when it comes to tenderness, warmth, or vulnerability, we pull down the shutters of propriety.

A Cultural Paradox

After returning from my recent visit to the US, the stark differences appear more obvious. In the U.S. or much of the West, physical affection is normal. Friends hug openly, couples kiss in public, parents embrace their grown-up children. Love, whether romantic or platonic, is not seen as unusual; it’s just part of human nature. In contrast, the Indian social scene treats affection as something to be kept private.

Our public spaces reflect this duality. The same park that hosts roaring political rallies may deem a couple sitting close to each other “indecent.” Social media is brimming with outrage over “Western influence,” yet reality television thrives on the emotional exposure of conflict, gossip, and family feuds. Indians, it seems, are far more at ease airing anger than affection.

Conditioning and Control

Personally, I believe part of this comes from how emotions are shaped by our upbringing. For generations, Indian families have valued restraint, especially for men. A boy crying or showing softness is told to “man up.” A girl laughing too loudly or displaying affection risks being labelled “forward.” While love as a feeling is acceptable, love as an act, particularly in public, can seem transgressive.

The very essence of love needs expression and sharing. ‘I have your back,’ a feeling that lingers in both a guarded space and everyday life, is priceless. Why escape telling your loved ones that they are precious or mean so much to you? I have always wondered.

This discomfort stems from both patriarchy and cultural habit. The Indian male, conditioned to associate control with masculinity, often finds tenderness awkward. Public displays of affection challenge this mask of dominance; they require surrender. After all, a hug demands vulnerability and vulnerability has long been regarded as weakness in our social fabric.

Between Morality and Maturity

Our society often confuses modesty with morality. The concept of Maryada (social decorum) has been stretched to mean the suppression of natural emotions. Ironically, the same people who tut-tut a couple holding hands may think nothing of shouting at strangers or hurling abuse in traffic. Rage, apparently, is more acceptable than romance.

But emotional repression has a cost. A culture that discourages open affection breeds loneliness and misunderstanding. We often find it easier to argue than to express love; friendships sometimes struggle with communication. We are expressive people, yet we hold back in the one language that truly connects us or makes us human.

Time to Rethink Intimacy

Perhaps it’s time we stop equating affection with indecency. Love, in all its forms, is not a threat to our culture; it’s the very essence of it. The Sufi music, Bhajans of Meera, the poetry of Tagore, the sculptures of Khajuraho, the Maha Raas, Shiv and Sati, Chaitanya Mahaprabhu, all celebrate love as a sacred energy, not a sin or something to be ashamed of or hide.

The foreign couple in Gujarat did not desecrate Garba; they simply reminded us of what we had forgotten: that love, too, is divine. As we become more globalised yet cling to our moral binaries, perhaps the next cultural awakening lies not in shouting louder, but in holding each other closer. And who are we to hold each other to a moral compass?

Expression of love in small gestures, for me, is human. Emotion is not a spectacle, but a grace.