To Love And Lie: Why Indian Youth Still Hide Still Relationships From Family

Today, at the age of 25, I can say that I’ve been in love twice. Both times, I’ve laughed till my stomach hurt, cried till my eyes swelled, planned vacations that I never took, and held hands like it meant something. However, both times, my parents were never aware. In India, we do many things in secret—eat Maggi at midnight, skip class for movies, swipe right under the blanket light of our phones. But one of our biggest and most emotionally taxing secrets is this: being in a relationship. 

For a country whose films have glamorised romance for decades—from Raj Kapoor’s poetic longing to Shah Rukh Khan’s arms-wide-open declarations—real love, especially before marriage, remains a hush-hush affair. While we tweet about love and post Instagram stories of cafe dates, we often return home to “he’s just a friend” and “no, I’m not seeing anyone.”

Why does love—a basic human emotion—still come with guilt, fear, and silence when it comes to our families? 

The Indian Cultural Conditioning

It starts early. As children, many of us grow up with the idea that romantic relationships are inherently “bad”—especially before marriage. Our culture has deep roots in honour, duty, and the respect of the family. Romantic relationships, the ones that are not arranged by the family, are often seen as distractions, or worse, ‘ladki bigad gayi hai’. 

Even today, in many households, the mere idea of dating evokes concerns about reputation, family status, and societal judgment. “Log kya kahenge?” is a haunting refrain—often louder than “Kya tum uske saath khush ho?” 

In most Indian families (such as mine), the ones which claim to be traditional or semi-conservative ones, love is something that happens after marriage—not before it. Premarital relationships are still taboo. Relationships are not seen as journeys of self-discovery or emotional growth but as final destinations that better be permanent and approved by society.

The Gendered Silence

The burden of secrecy isn’t shared equally, unlike gym, women in relationships are seen lifting heavier weights. For them,  it’s heavier, more dangerous, and deeply gendered.

A young girl revealing that she’s dating someone often invites not just curiosity but suspicion. Is he from a good family? What does he do? Is he serious about her? Has she crossed ‘limits’? Her character, upbringing, and even her parents’ parenting choices come under scrutiny.

Indian daughters are raised to be protectors of family honour, their sexuality is tightly controlled. So the idea that a woman may have chosen her partner without parental input is not just uncomfortable—it’s threatening. Her independence is often mistaken for irresponsibility.

In urban India, many liberal parents who pride themselves on being progressive may flinch at the idea of their daughter dating. It's not uncommon to hear, “We trust you, beta, but people talk,” or “It’s okay to have friends, but focus on your career first.”

For boys, the consequences are present, but they may be less severe. Young men in love are usually labelled as “distracted” or irresponsible or the weird one, “Us ladki ne toh isko fassa lia.”. Love is tolerated only when it aligns with marriage and timelines set by elders. 

The Love-Marriage Binary

One of the biggest reasons relationships are kept secret is because love is rarely seen as just love. Many couples fear telling their parents is not because of their disapproval but the fear of escalation. The main worry is, “If I tell them, they would want to meet him/her.” Relationships are seen as a boat leading to the shore of marriage. Also as I said above, parents see everything but love. In India, love should always lead somewhere and that somewhere is mandap. 

There is no concept of simply dating or understanding someone without the pressure of marriage. This creates a trap. We know for fact that in Indian families, the idea of you being in a relationship, will never be taken lightly. You think you are figuring out life and lovers, but your parents might not think the same way. And congratulations, if you are serious in the relationship, there are other fears such as caste, religion, community. 

Romantic exploration is seen as frivolous unless it results in a socially sanctioned outcome. The possibility of heartbreak, trial and error, or self-discovery is considered immature or even immoral and not according to society-sanctioned rules. 

Urban Doesn’t Always Mean Progressive 

We, as Generation Z, think that such things are limited to rural areas, but we are wrong. Even in cities like Delhi, Bombay, Bangalore, such mindsets persist. Ofcourse, some families are open-minded, but they still expect their children to bow down to traditions - only with better English. Urban life may give us the tools to connect with people, but it doesn’t necessarily give us the emotional language to explain that connection to our parents. In fact, the modern Indian youth often lives in a cultural split screen—WhatsApp flirting on one side, dodging marriage conversations on the other. 

The duality is exhausting.

Pop Culture: Helping or Hurting?

Ironically, Indian cinema and series are filled with love stories. Yet, most narratives end in either marriage or death. There’s very little space for realistic, non-linear, or messy modern love.

Indian cinema itself, comes up with movies like 2 States or Band Baaja Baaraat that try to bridge this gap but still center around the idea of winning over families. OTT shows like Made in Heaven or Little Things are trying to shift discourse, especially among urban millennials, but they remain niche. 

On the other hand, mainstream cinema still romanticises secrecy. The idea of running away with your partner, hiding from parents—rather than having honest conversations.  

What the Young Say

“I told my mom I was dating someone and she freaked out,” says Mansi, 23, from Delhi. “She asked if we’d done anything ‘physical’ and whether I was ruining my life. I stopped bringing it up.”

“For two years, I posted photos with my girlfriend as ‘just a friend,’” shares Nikhil, 26, from Pune. “We broke up last year, and my parents never knew she existed.”

Their stories are not rare, they are everywhere. You go through Reddit threads, anonymous confessions on Instagram, and you’ll find that a large number of people are sharing the same fear. The fear of being judged by those who claim to love us the most – Our Parents. 

Ask me – Hiding relationships isn’t just inconvenient – it’s emotionally draining. You have to constantly filter yourself; you have to hide events of your day. This secrecy will rob you from the ability to love openly. You might want to talk about your partner openly, bring him/her to family dinners, but this secret won’t let you. 

What's worse is the fact that it cultivates a culture of shame. Every single time when we are hiding something, it starts to feel like a crime. Many people start questioning whether their love is valid, worthy, or even real.         

So What Now? 

Now we need to acknowledge the generational gap in how love is understood. Our parents were raised in an era where love came after responsibility. Today, the era we are living in, is the era where love is an attribute that shapes us, our identity and growth. 

But we can head in the direction of change. We need to steer conversations to not just about relationships, but also about boundaries, consent, choice and emotional maturity of choosing a partner. On the other hand, parents need to start seeing their children as emotional beings, the ones who can make choices, both right and wrong – only with the purpose to learn from. 

At the same time, society needs to grow and bridge the gap between the generations. We need to make our homes – a space where conversations can happen, without the hint of judging and shouting. Not everyone has the safety or privilege to talk to their parents openly, but in homes where the door is slightly open, a gentle push—through dialogue, honesty, patience—can be the start of a new beginning. 

Because love, in all its forms, deserves to be seen. And the people who love us most should be the first to know—not the last.   

Views expressed by the author are their own.