Navigating Individual Life in a Community-Centered Society

A life in India can only be fully understood when viewed through the lens of community. In this deeply religious land and more, lives are intertwined like threads in an intricate tapestry, with little room for the concept of independence to this day. Close-knit communities—blood relations, family friends, tight religious groups etc—form the backbone of society, creating systems of belonging that have sustained people for generations.

Yet within this tapestry, those who live individualistically—whether by circumstances or by choice—often find themselves caught in an invisible boundary land. Not quite belonging, never fully accepted. The very social fabric that provides comfort to many becomes a source of quiet alienation for others.

I have lived this contradiction. Having grown up without parents nor reliable support system and continuing to navigate adulthood alone, I've experienced firsthand the subtle and not-so-subtle ways that Indian society struggles to accommodate those who walk a solitary path. And if you're a woman, then it is totally unconventional despite what you hear. From the sidelong glances when dining alone in restaurants, fixing netwrok setups on the terrace of office building, to the palpable discomfort when I attend social functions by myself, the message is clear: aloneness is viewed as a deficiency rather than also a valid way of being.
And if you are a woman, then God save you.

It’s the cumulative mindset that bothers me. Having an accommodating dining table or paying your own bills doesn't automatically mean you're progressive. It’s like offering a golden stick to a dog, only to keep punishing it - a hollow gesture of progress that masks deeper problems.”

The challenge extends beyond social discomfort. In India, systems—both formal and informal settings—are designed with the assumption of close community support despite what you see or hear. Standing alone in a government office queue becomes an exercise in vulnerability when others push ahead, using the strength of their networks, connections, and power. The pure rudeness and aggression you experience here is just beyond comprehension. The simple act of following rules becomes radical and somehow disrespectful to the ego of many when those around you navigate by different principles—the principles of collective negotiation rather than individual compliance.

"It takes a village to raise a child," goes the old saying, and there is profound truth in this communal wisdom. And I believe it. Children benefit immeasurably from growing up within supportive communities that foster behavioral development, moral understanding, and emotional regulation. These traditional structures have, for centuries, created foundations for belonging and courage later in adult life.

But what happens when the village itself becomes a barrier to individual growth? What occurs when the pressure to conform outweighs the benefits of community support?

The Paradox of Urban Loneliness

Fast forward to contemporary Bengaluru, a modern metropolis teeming with millions, yet plagued by what can only be described as an epidemic of loneliness. The irony is sharp: in a city where you can never truly be alone, authentic connection remains elusive. For those who approach life from an individualistic perspective, this disconnect is magnified. The traditional community structures have weakened without being replaced by new forms of belonging that respect individual autonomy. And I'm sure it's everywhere, but I live here, and it has started to take a toll anywhere I go in India.

Perhaps this explains why, during my travels outside, I've often felt more connected to people from vastly different cultures than to those from my own. In developed countries and other "third world" nations alike, I've experienced moments of surprising acceptance—not being threatened, judged, or made anxious for navigating public spaces alone. Whether discussing something as mundane as tying shoelaces or as complex as personal philosophies, there exists in these encounters a baseline respect for individual existence that often feels absent at home.

Little off topic, but I need to get something off my chest:

Here in India, there is a constant threat to both money and bodily safety. But out in these developed nations, you will probably worry only about money being robbed... and for some reason, I feel so much better. This fear feels much safer.

What creates this difference? Perhaps it lies in how societies construct trust and mentality. In places where individual responsibility is emphasized—where people are expected to manage themselves, respect public spaces, and honor others' time and boundaries—a different kind of community emerges. One that doesn't demand conformity as the price of belonging. Or maybe because we have been deprived of basic human living standards to such an extent and failing systems that it has messed up so badly.

The simple gesture of holding a door open for a stranger carrying bags, respecting queue order, arriving punctually for appointments, providing quick helpline assistance as first priority etc—these systems are designed to make everyone feel included regardless of accessibility, affordability, age, or physical disability. These small acts build a framework of mutual respect that accommodates both individual autonomy and communal harmony.

People don't realize we are part of society too; we make the society, so we have our own individual responsibility for larger systems to work too. Also, the system should be here for you and not against you, but here as an individual and woman, you're dead meat through and through.

Emotional Self-Reliance is a Strength, Not Deficiency
My own coping mechanisms—running to process difficult emotions, finding comfort in familiar shows, working through challenges independently—have often been misinterpreted as isolation or stubborn self-sufficiency. When facing difficulties, the expectation in community-centered cultures is clear: turn to your network, share your burdens, allow others to support you, despite how heinously the gossip and judgments break out and compound back at you.

Yet for those who have developed different emotional processing styles, this expectation becomes another form of pressure. The ability to regulate emotions independently is a valuable skill, not a character flaw. In more individually-oriented societies, this self-reliance might be respected rather than pitied or problematized, or perhaps even learned from. Finding friends with similar mindsets becomes a long shot here.

To be clear, community living carries profound benefits. The sense of belonging, shared responsibility, and collective wisdom that emerge from strong communal bonds cannot be dismissed. I don't advocate abandoning these traditions entirely—"I adore it, and I wished circumstances were in my favor."

But can traditional communal structures evolve to accommodate solitary individuals? Can we preserve the village while ensuring it doesn't stifle those who march to different drummers?

Perhaps we need communities that are strong enough to support but flexible enough to accommodate difference—social fabrics with enough stretch to embrace those who stand apart while still providing the essential human connections we all need. For those of us who live in the boundary lands between these worldviews, the journey continues. We seek belonging without conformity, community without erasure of self, connection without compromise of authenticity.