Sarci-Sense: You are Nicer Than Honest. That’s The Problem

When did you last tell the truth simply because it was true, not because it was convenient? When did you last say no without adding an excuse, or disagree without apologising for existing? Think about it.

How many messages are you currently not replying to because the answer would be awkward? How many conversations are you postponing because they might become emotional? How often do you smile your way out of situations you secretly resent? 

We like to believe we are civilised, evolving, emotionally intelligent people. But most days, we are just practised dodgers, avoiding discomfort, outsourcing honesty, and calling the whole performance “maturity.”

We are not a dishonest society. It is, perhaps, something more complicated and therefore more dangerous: a polite society.

We do not lie out of cruelty or cunning. We lie because it is socially efficient. We lie to avoid discomfort, to preserve mood, to protect image and most importantly, to maintain peace. Over time, we have learned that silence keeps more relationships intact than truth ever could.

And we evolved into something unique in human civilisation, the disciplined exercise of never saying what we mean while sounding perfectly civilised.

From childhood, we are trained in emotional diplomacy. Be respectful, be patient, be accommodating. Good children don’t raise uncomfortable questions. Good daughters don’t raise their voices. Good sons don’t raise emotions at all. Our manners are impeccable and our conversations hollow.

By adulthood, we can express irritation with a smile, rejection with “let’s see”, disappointment with “it’s okay”, and resentment with silence that lasts decades. The country does not collapse in conflict. It simply fills quietly with people who wish they were not in the rooms they politely continue to occupy.

What makes the politeness trap particularly Indian is the elegance with which we practise it. Nobody storms out, nobody confronts, nobody explodes in unacceptable ways. Instead, we accumulate emotional debris the way previous generations accumulated saris from weddings, folded carefully and stored somewhere out of sight. Relationships do not break dramatically. They rust with excellent manners. Eventually, everyone is exhausted from being nice. Nobody feels brave enough to be real.

And before you nod along too comfortably, it is worth pausing here, because most people reading this will quietly assume it is about someone else. About parents, colleagues, spouses, society, culture. Rarely about themselves.

But if you are honest for one unguarded minute, you will recognise your own handwriting in these soft lies.

The messages you didn’t reply to because they felt inconvenient. The conversations you postponed because they might get emotional. The truths you diluted into politeness because you didn’t want to appear difficult. You too smile through irritation. You too avoid saying what matters. You too choose comfort over honesty most days. Not because you are cruel, but because you are human in a society that trains you to be pleasant before it teaches you to be brave.

Each generation carries politeness differently, but everyone pays its price.

The Boomers turned courtesy into virtue and silence into duty. They confused obedience with respect and discipline with love. Children were not encouraged to explain themselves, only to behave. Wives were not invited to disagree, only to adjust. Homes functioned efficiently, like institutions with excellent traditions and poor conversations. Needs were handled, emotions were postponed, sometimes forever. The idea was simple. Families must run smoothly. Feeling was optional.

Gen X inherited this silence and refined it into emotional minimalism. They did not discuss because they had never learnt how. They coped by pretending things either worked out or didn’t matter. They believed closeness meant presence and love meant loyalty, not expression. They stayed, endured and wondered, much later in life, why their children spoke in a language they did not understand.

Millennials learnt politeness in corporate classrooms. Feelings became feedback. Disagreement became diplomacy. They were taught to manage emotions the way they manage projects, with caution, courtesy and presentation. They do not speak in raw sentences. They craft them. Their relationships exhibit all the warmth of professional emails. They are not dishonest. They are professionally careful. And like most people who negotiate instead of connect, they are exhausted by relationships and puzzled by their own quiet unhappiness.

Gen Z, supposedly rebellious, merely updated the same survival tricks. They replaced politeness with performance and silence with exit. They overshare online and under-communicate in life. Confrontation frightens them more than disappearing. They rename emotional retreat as self-care and emotional absence as boundaries. Their honesty is loud but selective. Their connections are wide but shallow. They fear being misunderstood almost as much as their parents feared being disobedient.

Gender sharpens the damage.

Indian women practise politeness like a survival skill. Smile early, apologise quickly, do not offend, do not confront, carry emotional weight invisibly. A polite woman is admired. An honest one is described as difficult, aggressive or unstable. The society praises their patience and profits from it quietly.

Men, on the other hand, are trained into emotional illiteracy. They are not taught to process pain, only to perform strength. Sadness embarrasses them. Vulnerability terrifies them. Silence becomes masculinity. Many men grow older without growing articulate about what hurts. When relationships fail, they feel cheated but never ask whether they ever truly showed up.

Class decides how this politeness plays out.

For the lower middle class, politeness is fear. Do not challenge authority. Do not argue with power. For the middle class, politeness is image. Sound enlightened. Appear progressive. Display sympathy carefully. For the elite, politeness is power. Reject gently. Ignore cleanly. Let nobody see you sweat or feel.

Every class practises politeness differently. All of them use it to avoid truth.

In families, politeness becomes a lavish performance. Relatives sit together without discussing what hurts. Money problems hide beneath rituals. Emotional betrayals are buried under festivals. Divorce is whispered, illness is postponed, death is treated like awkward small talk. The most dangerous files in Indian homes are labelled “We’ll talk later”. Later rarely arrives. Loneliness does.

Online, politeness becomes theatre. Sympathy becomes reaction icons. Confession becomes content. Everyone types “here for you” with the reliability of a food-delivery app. Friendship is reduced to predictable responses. Loneliness does not stand a chance in a society that has replaced presence with performance.

We tell ourselves politeness preserves peace. In reality, it postpones disaster.

We call it adjustment when it is actually avoidance.
We call it patience when it is sometimes fear.
We call it maturity when it is emotional cowardice.

 We have perfected politeness and forgotten courage. We remain agreeable and grow bitter. And no civilisation has ever survived on good manners alone.