The Comedy of Cruelty: Mental Health, Insults, and the Great Indian Blind Spot

 

The Comedy of Cruelty: Mental Health, Insults, and the Great Indian Blind Spot

Last week, I wrote about mental health issues in India—a topic that deserves more attention than it gets. Someone commented on my blog, urging me to dig deeper. It struck a chord because, frankly, there’s a whole lot more to unpack. So here we go, peeling back the layers of a society that seems to think words, jokes, and insults don’t matter—as if mental health isn’t slowly being crushed under the weight of "just a joke."

Take The Kapil Sharma Show, for instance. Every episode is a masterclass in normalized humiliation. Kapil and his merry band of co-actors have made a living out of mocking women, fat people, the poor, and anyone else they can squeeze a laugh out of. "But it’s just comedy!" some argue. Sure, if you think someone’s identity, struggles, or pain is comedic gold, then by all means, laugh away. But here’s a thought—ask the people being ridiculed if they’re laughing too. Spoiler alert: they’re not.

The problem isn’t just on TV. These microaggressions—or outright aggressions—start at home, get reinforced in schools, and are polished to perfection by adulthood. Bullying is practically a rite of passage, and language is weaponized with ruthless efficiency. Words like “motu” (fatty), “kaalu” (dark-skinned), or caste-based slurs are thrown around so casually, it’s almost as if they’re part of a national pastime. And then we wonder why mental health issues fester in silence.

Look no further than India’s political class for proof that this toxic culture of insults starts at the top. Take Prime Minister Narendra Modi, for example, or any number of politicians who hurl degrading language as freely as confetti at a wedding. It’s a spectacle of verbal mudslinging so ingrained in public discourse that it barely raises eyebrows anymore. But while our leaders trade insults, countless people suffer in silence, trapped in a cycle of mental and emotional abuse that began generations ago.

Women in India, of course, bear the brunt of this. Despite living in one of the oldest civilizations—where they once thrived as leaders—women now endure a daily barrage of systemic sexism, veiled insults, and outright mockery. They’re second-class citizens in a country that romanticizes its "golden era" but conveniently ignores how far it has regressed. And comedians making a career out of degrading them? Well, that’s just entertainment, isn’t it?

The damage, however, is real and lasting. Insults and slurs are not just fleeting words—they’re emotional scars that can haunt a person for life. Yet, in India, the idea of seeking mental health support is still stigmatized, especially for women and people from lower socioeconomic classes. Mental health services are either inaccessible or unaffordable, leaving those who need help the most to fend for themselves. It’s as if society collectively decided that emotional wounds will magically heal on their own.

Meanwhile, in other parts of the world, steps have been taken to curb this behavior. In the United States, laws prohibit language that targets minorities and vulnerable groups. It’s not perfect, but at least it’s a start. India, however, seems content to let its citizens endure a linguistic free-for-all, where anyone and everyone is fair game. The irony is staggering: politicians who revel in insulting others are the first to cry foul when the tables turn. Rahul Gandhi can attest to this—after all, he nearly lost his parliamentary membership for calling out a few bad actors named Modi. Imagine if the same level of protection existed for the average citizen!

So here’s a question for anyone laughing along to Kapil Sharma’s jokes or anyone who thinks that words don’t matter: Are you really okay with this? Are you okay perpetuating a culture where humor comes at the expense of someone’s dignity? Because the day people stop laughing and start holding others accountable is the day real change begins.

Until then, the cycle of verbal abuse and its impact on mental health will continue. India needs more than just mental health services—it needs laws to protect the vulnerable and a collective awakening to the power of words. Until we decide that casual cruelty isn’t funny or acceptable, we’ll remain stuck in this endless loop of laughter at someone else’s expense. And that’s nothing to laugh about.