PRETENDIANS: THE ART OF ACTING INDIAN
- Madhukar Dama
- Apr 17
- 7 min read
A Brutal Look at Pretentious Behaviour in India — Its Origins, Effects, and the Way Out
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INTRODUCTION: THE GREAT INDIAN DRAMA FESTIVAL
From the moment a child learns to speak in English before their mother tongue, to the day they post a spiritual quote on Instagram while gossiping in real life — the Indian identity is deeply entangled with pretense.
Pretentious behaviour isn’t just an occasional embarrassment. It’s a chronic cultural disease — a desperate theatre of projection, powered by our centuries of colonisation, our caste-comparison psyche, and our recent race for validation through lifestyle.
This article holds up a clean mirror. You may not like what you see — but if you stay long enough, you'll laugh, cry, and maybe... even begin to heal.
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PART I: 30 PRETENTIOUS BEHAVIOURS OF INDIANS
CATEGORY A: LANGUAGE AND ACCENT DRAMA
1. Forcing English into casual regional conversations
“Pass the daal, bro.”
Origin: Internalised shame of regional languages
Impact: Erodes linguistic pride, alienates grandparents
Heal: Speak bilingually with pride
2. Faking a foreign accent after brief exposure
A London trip turns into Loondan.
Origin: Need for elite acceptance
Impact: Disconnection from one’s own people
Heal: Let your tongue rest — the truth has no accent.
3. Laughing at Indian English accents while mimicking Western slang
Mocking “prepone” while saying “vibes unmatched.”
Origin: Derision to feel superior
Heal: Remember — what you mock, you inherit.
4. Saying “anyways” while sneering at “timepass”
We reject our own coinages while clinging to borrowed ones.
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CATEGORY B: LIFESTYLE FLEXING AND IDENTITY PERFORMANCE
5. Wearing athleisure without exercising
Gym clothes are the new “I tried.”
Origin: Wanting to seem active without effort
Consequence: False image, no real health
Heal: Sweat first, then flaunt
6. Turning regular get-togethers into ‘brunches’ or ‘sundowners’
Tea and samosas were never enough for the modern Indian
7. Clicking food pics instead of enjoying meals
Stomachs are starving but reels are full
8. Overdecorated homes filled with “conversation pieces” no one asked for
Including a Buddha statue right next to the bar
9. Posting yoga photos while gossiping viciously in real life
Asana outside, asur inside
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CATEGORY C: FAKE HUMILITY & HOLLOW SPIRITUALITY
10. “We’re very simple people” – from inside an Italian marble bungalow
11. “God has been kind” – when everything was grabbed, not earned
12. Sudden Instagram spirituality during Navratri and Vipassana season
13. Using words like “karma,” “energy,” and “vibration” to mask ego-driven choices
14. Following 5 gurus at once, yet learning nothing from even one
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CATEGORY D: NAME-DROPPING AND STATUS THEATRE
15. Mentioning celebrity schoolmates unnecessarily
16. Saying “I know a guy in the ministry” in every conversation
17. Putting VIP stickers or siren lights on cars
18. Making children call elders ‘uncle’ even if they are corrupt scumbags
19. Adding “Sir” after every powerful person’s name, but mocking staff by first name
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CATEGORY E: ETHICAL FLEXING WITHOUT ACTUAL ETHICS
20. Talking about 'sustainability' in a home with 4 ACs
21. Saying “we give a lot to charity” but can’t treat the maid with respect
22. Mocking government schools while praising foreign NGOs who do the same work
23. Defending rituals they don’t follow just for identity points
24. Pretending to be vegan, but only on Instagram
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CATEGORY F: PARENTING AND EDUCATION SHOW-OFFS
25. Forcing kids to speak only English — even with grandparents
26. Overloading tuition schedules to say “My child is very busy”
27. Taking credit for a child’s achievements, blaming child for failures
28. Saying “We are a progressive family” while controlling every choice
29. Joining parent WhatsApp groups just to showcase their children
30. Flaunting foreign university stickers — even if the degree is irrelevant
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PART II: ROOT CAUSES
1. Colonial Hangover
200 years of conditioning created the idea that whiteness, English, and West = superior.
Pretentiousness is inherited trauma wearing perfume.
2. Caste-Class Anxiety
Constant need to “rise” and appear “better” than others fuels projection and show.
Pretending is protection.
3. Social Media Validation Addiction
The dopamine of likes is stronger than the need for self-respect.
Every platform became a stage.
4. Insecurity from Cultural Fragmentation
Many have lost touch with their roots, and thus mimic other cultures for a sense of identity.
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PART III: CONSEQUENCES OF PRETENSE
Emotional Fragmentation: Pretenders forget who they really are
Relationship Breakdown: Loved ones feel unloved — only curated
Children become anxious, image-conscious, and disconnected
Cultural erosion: Pride in tradition replaced by confused mimicry
Deep loneliness: No one knows the real you — not even you.
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PART IV: HEALING SUGGESTIONS
1. Radical Honesty
Admit when you’re faking. The truth stings but also frees.
2. Voluntary Simplicity
Try not sharing an achievement. See what happens to your peace.
3. Rooting in One’s Culture
Speak your language. Cook your food. Know your rituals. Then choose freely.
4. Spiritual Integrity
Don’t post about mindfulness if you’re being cruel offline.
5. Teach Children to Be, Not Seem
Let them stumble, speak freely, and not impress anyone.
6. Digital Detoxes
A month without performing online can show you what’s real again.
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A BRUTAL CONSCISE SUMMARY QUOTE
> In India, people don’t live — they audition. Every sentence, outfit, prayer, and child is a performance meant for someone else’s approval. The tragedy is not that they’re faking it. The tragedy is that they forgot what being real even felt like.
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UNMASK ME, MADHUKAR
A Heartbreaking, Hilarious, and Healing Conversation on Pretentious Living in Urban India
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Scene:
It’s a quiet Sunday morning in rural Karnataka. The trees rustle gently. A young urban couple — Rajat (35, senior consultant) and Divya (33, social media content creator) — arrive with their 7-year-old son Aarav at Madhukar the Hermit’s mud home.
They are dressed impeccably — sunglasses, branded shoes, kid in an international school T-shirt — yet visibly disturbed.
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PART ONE: THE COMPLAINT
Divya (adjusting her scarf nervously):
Madhukarji… we need help. Our son Aarav was mocked at school. They called him “uncool” because he didn’t have the latest shoes. He’s crying every day. He says he doesn’t want to go to school anymore.
Rajat:
It’s not just that. We’re doing everything “right.” English-medium school, extracurriculars, iPad learning, foreign vacation. Still, he’s… anxious. Withdrawn. Even rude.
Divya:
And frankly… we’re exhausted. Pretending to be perfect all the time — it’s eating us alive.
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PART TWO: THE MIRROR BEGINS TO SPEAK
Madhukar (smiling gently):
You are not raising a child.
You are raising an image.
Rajat (defensive):
What do you mean? We’ve sacrificed so much to give him the best.
Madhukar:
The best?
Or the most branded?
What if he didn’t need any of that?
Divya:
But he wants it. All his classmates have it!
Madhukar:
He wants what you want for him.
And you want what the world wants you to want.
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PART THREE: UNPACKING THE PRETENSE
Madhukar:
Tell me, Rajat — what language did your father speak to you in?
Rajat:
Kannada.
Madhukar:
And your son?
Rajat (pauses):
Only English.
Madhukar:
And why?
Divya (ashamed):
We thought… it would make him “global”.
Madhukar:
Global?
Or acceptable to a colonised crowd still ashamed of its tongue?
Rajat (quietly):
We just didn’t want him to struggle like us.
Madhukar:
So you gifted him a bigger prison — called performance.
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PART FOUR: THE LIST OF MASKS
Madhukar (counting on fingers):
Let’s make a list.
Fancy brunches you didn’t enjoy.
Travel photos where you fought before clicking.
Yoga poses you posted but never practiced again.
Charity posts without charity in action.
Your son’s trophies he didn’t care about.
Brand tags you kept on to show price.
English quotes over Indian thoughts.
“We’re very simple people” — said from a ₹3 crore flat.
Divya (whispers):
We’re not bad people.
Madhukar:
No.
You’re just scared people… trying to be seen in a society where being yourself is dangerous.
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PART FIVE: THE ROOT WOUND
Rajat:
But where did all this start?
Madhukar:
You were taught to belong. Not to be.
Your ancestors were told their skin was dirty, their gods were demons, their words were wrong.
So they wore suits, whitewashed faces, and called it success.
Divya:
It’s all fear, isn’t it?
Madhukar:
Yes.
Fear of irrelevance.
Fear that without pretense, you’re not worthy of love.
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PART SIX: THE CHILD WHO KNEW BETTER
Aarav (quietly):
Can I talk to you?
Madhukar (kneeling):
Yes, beta.
Aarav:
I like trees. I like the mud. I don’t like my shoes. Can I take them off?
Madhukar:
Of course. Here, walk with me.
(Aarav runs barefoot into the field. His eyes light up.)
Madhukar (to parents):
He already knows the way.
You’re the ones who got lost in costumes.
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PART SEVEN: THE UNMASKING
Divya (crying):
So what do we do now?
Madhukar:
Remove one mask a day.
One truth.
One honest meal.
One day without posting.
One conversation in your native tongue.
One hour of sitting silently without trying to be someone.
And slowly, you’ll meet the child inside you — the one you buried in school.
Rajat:
Will we lose friends?
Madhukar:
Yes.
But you will find peace.
Divya:
Will our son be okay?
Madhukar:
He already is.
He just needs you to stop selling him a lie.
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PART EIGHT: THE EXIT
As the sun rises higher, the family sits silently under the neem tree.
Shoes off. Phones off. Masks falling like autumn leaves.
Aarav is laughing with goats.
Divya and Rajat finally smile — a real, wrinkled, fragile smile.
The kind that doesn’t need applause.
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BRUTAL CONSCISE SUMMARY QUOTE
> Pretending is India's new pandemic. But healing begins when one child dares to walk barefoot and the parents don’t stop him.
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“AND THEY CALLED IT CULTURE”
they taught him to say
thank you
before he could say
amma
they wrapped her in satin
with a fake grin,
told her to post it with
while she hated the mirror.
the kid?
he just wanted
to play in the mud.
but mud doesn’t match
the color palette of
their curated lives.
they fed their dogs gluten-free
but mocked the neighbor
for eating with his hands.
spoke of “roots”
from a high-rise balcony
where no bird
has ever landed.
the temple is clean
but the heart
is full of expired hashtags
and borrowed beliefs.
everyone’s acting
so well
they forgot
they’re not on stage.
they bow to gods
but won’t meet their maid’s eyes.
they say “namaste”
but never meant it.
and the worst part?
they believe
they’re being
authentic.
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