If grief for South Asians is so communal why do we grieve alone?
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When my dada (grandfather) passed away some 20 years ago I vaguely remember our family held a pooja at home for several days and anyone in the community or knew our family was welcome to attend. I was only 8-9 years old at the time, but I remember our family openly sobbing, crying, showing heartache and pain during the ceremony.
A few years later I remember attending the funeral of a close family friend whose mum had passed away, I cried and gave a hug to her husband afterwards and it was the first I saw him cry in front of everyone, the first time I saw him openly grieve and show saddness.
In many South Asian families and communities, grief is often carried quietly, unspoken, unsupported, and unseen. Often referred to as ‘disenfranchised grief’ When we talk about showing our grief, we’re also talking about breaking that silence. During times of loss, South Asian cultures openly join communities for a mourning period, consisting of prayers and other cultural customs in the home of the deceased but If grieving is so communal for South Asians why do some of us struggle to openly grieve and instead do this alone?
Silence becomes the norm
In many South Asian homes, silence becomes the language. Conflict is avoided, pain is tucked away, and emotions linger in the background, unspoken, unresolved. It doesn’t create harmony; it creates suppression. You can grow up surrounded by people yet feel profoundly alone. Achievements are celebrated, but grief is never named. You learn the rules, but not the words for your feelings. Even when you finally want to speak, a voice inside whispers, “Don’t make a fuss.”
Hindu, Sikh, Muslim, and other South Asian traditions have rich communal grief rituals. Prayer gatherings, cooking, chanting, visitation, cremation rites. Though the internal experience of grief is still deeply personal and often solitary.
Sometimes the one who “keeps the family together” is at highest risk of unprocessed grief because they are busy supporting everyone else.
In August last year, Shakti mental health held a tea and grief yoga ceremony for community, during the session I remember one participant openly showed grief, cried and wept mourning the loss of a close family member. After the session the attendee thanked us for putting on the tea and grief ceremony and said ‘This was the first time I was able to show emotion in a room full of strangers, I cant show pain or cry in front of my family, today I was able to grieve without that fear’.
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For some South Asians, showing emotion openly can feel uncomfortable. Speaking about the death of a loved one often carries a fear of shame, or of others judging the bereaved with harsh or hurtful assumptions. That silence deepens the pain, especially when someone’s grief is dismissed or seen as unwarranted.
Public expressions of emotions such as anger or depression are often discouraged. This can contribute to grief being internalised, making the healing process more complex. Conversely, practices such as prayer, ritual, and forms of bargaining frequently play an important role in how South Asian individuals cope and seek meaning during times of loss. Having such a rigid grieving process means we end up experiencing the five stages of grief alone.
During covid some South Asian cultures had to rush through the grief process when someone passed away. Before the pandemic Tamil and Punjabi communities often observed 13 day mourning periods referred to as ‘Kariyam’ or ‘Terahvi’ respectfully. When covid hit, the mourining period couldnt always be traditionally or communaly observed, forcing loved ones to mourn on their own, mourn together virtually or grieve in other ways well after the funeral had taken place.
South Asians can say there is a sixth stage of grief which is an open interpretation of grieving...is it listening to your favourite quawaali alone at 2am? Making a cup of chai as a group and reminiscing, maybe its finally having that conversation you’ve been putting off with someone else. Though the process and rituals of South Asian grief are communal, the act of grieving can be isolating. We need supportive environments and people around us so we are not experiencing grief alone.
Final note
I wish I was able to have conversations with my dada before he past, my only memory of him was going into he’s room and having a brief chat while he sipped a glass of whisky from the bottle on the bed side table. I was told my dada was a stern man, difficult at times and not the easiest to be around. I wish I could ask him what living in Uganda was like, what Scotland and the UK was like after being forced to move there in the 70's, I wonder If I knew more about him, would my grief be different?
Author: Jagesh Panchal
References:
ADHD and Grief in South Asian culture (Abbas, 2025)
Racism directly shapes and intensifies how people experience grief (Bajwah, 2026)
How to Come to Terms With Grief (South Asian therapists.org, 2021)
Grieving Through Shame – Disenfranchised Grief in South Asian Culture (Patel, 2021)
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