“We were very worried, but the way they took care of everything gave us peace of mind that we were no longer alone.”
That memory is still etched deep in the mind of the 46-year-old mother, who lives in Bangalore.
Her son has always been a bright student. Between grades 11 and 12, the pressure of preparing for competitive entrance exams slowly began to change him. Sleepless nights have become a daily routine. Frustration crept in and small setbacks felt devastating. What initially seemed like “normal academic stress” began to spiral into something more serious.
As a parent, she felt it before she understood it.
“I didn’t come from an environment where seeking mental health support was stigmatized,” she admits. “But something didn’t feel right. As a non-professional, there was only so much I could do.”
The feeling of helplessness was overwhelming. If your child is unwell, tests will be performed, a prescription will be given, and next steps will be made clear. However, when mental pain hits, Parents have no choice but to overcome uncertainty. — Wondering if they are overreacting, fearing judgment, and wondering how seeking psychiatric treatment will affect their family’s reputation.
Labels, whispers and fear of “what people will say” still shape how many Indian families respond to mental health concerns.
The weight of silence in India
Nearly 150 million Indians need professional psychological support, but many do not receive it. The reasons for this are multifold, including limited access to trained professionals, financial constraints, social stigma, and deeply held beliefs that mental illness is a personal weakness rather than a medical condition.
In many families, suffering is dismissed as temporary. Emotional breakdown is thought to result from a lack of resilience. Parents blame themselves. Individuals internalize guilt.
“In our culture, there is a lot of self-blame. Parents ask what they did wrong, and individuals internalize guilt. This prevents people from seeing mental health as a condition worthy of care,” says Sandesh Kadavam, managing director of Kadavam Group.
But for this mother, silence was no longer an option.
late night decision
The night they finally called for help was filled with quiet panic. They arrived late, exhausted, and unsure of what to expect. The uncertainty was scary. Will he be recognized? will he be judged??Will this decide his future?
Instead, she recalls being greeted with a sense of calm.
Over the next several weeks, her son began systematic care that included therapy, clinical evaluation, and consistent follow-up. It couldn’t be resolved right away. It wasn’t dramatic. It was patient, careful, and gradual.
“This is not like a fever or dengue that goes away overnight. This is a disease and healing takes patience and time,” she says.
Seven years later, her son is stable and rebuilding his life. For her, the lesson is clear.
“Why suffer when there is a solution?” she asks. “We’re so worried about what society will say about going to a psychiatric hospital. But if you’re okay, the people around you are okay too.”
when one family member is strugglingits effects ripple through the entire household. She realized that recovery is not just personal, but collective.
Seeing the crisis outside the clinic
For Sandesh Kadavam, these stories are not isolated incidents.
“The biggest crisis I saw growing up wasn’t just the disease. It was the stigma. People didn’t know how to ask for help or even how to name what they were going through,” he says.
Growing up with the realities of mental health care in India, he saw firsthand how families delayed seeking care not because they neglected it, but because they didn’t know where to turn.
For over 30 years, Kadabams Group has been building specialist mental health services in Bangalore and beyond, spanning psychiatric care, addiction recovery, dementia support and long-term rehabilitation. However, the philosophy that guides our work remains simple. Mental health is an illness, not a moral failing.
But stigma doesn’t disappear overnight. It evolves.
I’m afraid of being labeled. Fear of isolation. Fear of hurting your child’s future.
And in some cases, fear can turn into a crisis.
when memory starts to disappear
For another family, the worry started quietly.
Their 77-year-old mother, always resilient, cared for her husband, who lives with Parkinson’s disease. Many responsibilities fell on her shoulders as her children lived in different cities and countries.
Subtle memory loss appeared first. The family doctor suggested dementia. However, the symptoms soon worsened.
She stopped sleeping. She kept talking all night, sometimes coherently, sometimes not. Medications prescribed elsewhere appeared to have worsened her condition, causing her to enter a euphoric manic state.
“None of us were prepared for what we were witnessing. We were overwhelmed,” the family recalls.
By the time they sought professional care on September 29, 2025, fear overtook logic.
Choose patience over assumptions
Instead of rushing to confirm the initial diagnosis, clinicians chose to observe. She was admitted to JP Nagar facility but showed little visible improvement in the first week.
It tested everyone’s patience.
But slowly, through a structured routine, therapeutic involvementcareful medication adjustments, and a controlled environment, a pattern began to emerge. Although well-intentioned, it became clear that constant family interaction was adding to her distress.
After careful explanation, the family agreed to a short rehabilitation period with limited visitation. For 15 days, they didn’t see her but received consistent updates.
“That communication was most important. We never felt left out of her journey,” the family says.
When they saw her again around the 20th day, they immediately noticed a change. Her words were slow. Her routine was structured. Peace was beginning to return.
By November 10, 2025, she was discharged from the hospital and almost 90% recovered.
“What impressed us was not only that she got better, but that the entire process was handled with patience and dignity,” the family added.
Now, she has reconnected with society and is gradually shedding the hesitations that once surrounded psychiatric care.
Reaching people who would never walk through the door
But even if these families find support, bigger questions remain. What happens to people who never go to the clinic?
Access remains one of India’s most pressing mental health challenges. Trained professionals are limited. Disparities between urban and rural areas still exist. Affordability remains a barrier.
This is where Cadabams’ digital initiative, Mindtalk, was conceived as a way to extend support beyond our physical centres.
Designed to provide clinically guided mental health support through chat and audio, Mindtalk acts as an ongoing companion between therapy sessions. It integrates evidence-based screening tools, journaling prompts, progress tracking, and individualized recovery guidance, all under clinical supervision.
“Technology should never replace therapists; it should enable care, bridge gaps, and support recovery between sessions,” adds Sandesh.
Dr. Anitha Bharathan, Consultant Clinical Psychologist at Cadabams, has observed this gap first-hand.
“Many struggle with the days between treatment sessions without structured guidance. Care is often delayed due to factors such as affordability, location, stigma, and limited specialist availability.”
Mindtalk seeks to fill that gap by extending human care rather than replacing it.
“Technology will not replace clinicians, but it will make mental health support continuous and accessible,” adds Dr. Anitha.
In recent months, the platform has facilitated between 1,750 and 2,000 digital sessions per month and thousands of face-to-face consultations across its centres. But beyond the metrics, one detail stands out.
“What excites me the most is how many of them are seeking help for the first time. They are people who would never have asked for help otherwise,” says Sandesh.
For many people, the first step is not going to the hospital. You are entering information on a private screen.
From fear to conversation
For the mother, who once arrived in a state of panic, the change was deeply personal.
She is now speaking up and encouraging friends and relatives not to delay getting help.
She believes that when families start talking honestly about mental health, the stigma disappears.
And perhaps real change can begin not with systems or technology, but with parents quietly acknowledging their weaknesses at the dinner table and choosing courage over silence.
“Our society would be a much happier place if all Indians had access to clinically safe support,” Sandesh said.
In a country long accustomed to whispers about mental health, these families are choosing to do something radical. They are choosing to speak and ask for help.
In doing so, they are changing the narrative for others who may still be hesitant at the door.
All images courtesy of Cadabams Group