The series holds up an unflinching mirror to a generational rupture that’s widening daily. Social media has enabled adolescents to navigate a world that adults observe but cannot comprehend, speak languages that they haven’t learned and fight battles that we cannot acknowledge for being real. The communication divide is huge. Language itself has been modified and a new vernacular dominates youth conversations. Walk into any Delhi mall or Mumbai café and it is common to hear young adults say- “That’s so cringe”; “They’re just clout-chasing.”

To adults, these might sound like frivolous slang. But to teenagers, these are survival codes in a hyper-social ecosystem.

Even emoticons, commonly known as ‘emojis’, have been reimagined into nuance. For example, a yellow heart does not signal warmth but rejection, whereas a black heart signals sardonic detachment, and a purple heart lives in the anxious limbo between maybe and never. A well-meaning parent may react to their child’s Instagram story with a thumbs-up, thinking it is an encouragement. However, it lands like a cultural misstep because it broadcasts a tone-deafness that only deepens the divide.

Psychologist Dr Achal Bhagat notes, “We’re witnessing the first generation whose primary socialisation occurs in digital spaces adults can’t access. When we dismiss their symbols as childish, we’re essentially telling them their entire social reality is invalid.”

This linguistic and cultural estrangement has consequences. A 2024 NCERT study revealed that 68% of teenagers admit to lying to their parents about online activities, not out of defiance but resignation thinking, “They wouldn’t understand anyway.” Adding to the problem is the rise of the "manosphere". Online communities are known to promote hyper-masculine and often misogynistic ideologies. Platforms such as YouTube and Instagram are where influencers create self-sustaining narratives by equating emotional suppression with strength and condition viewers into believing that sadness is weakness and rage is power. The impact is not confined to the digital space. It has transcended to the physical realm an example of which is a recent incident in a Gurugram classroom where a fistfight erupted over perceived “disrespect” on Snapchat. Another instance is that of Chennai, where a 15-year-olds echoed Andrew Tate’s assertion that women are “naturally submissive”.

Dr Harish Shetty, who has treated over 200 adolescent boys in the past year as a counselling psychiatrist, sees a chilling pattern. He says, “The boys who consume this content are not becoming confident, they’re building fortresses of aggression to hide their terror of inadequacy. They’ve been taught that to be soft is to fail as a man”.

The validity of his concerns can well be substantiated by data. NIMHANS reports a staggering 300% increase in adolescent male anger management cases since 2020. Many of these cases are a direct consequence of online manosphere consumption. This is not just ‘toxic content’ but also a blueprint for identity formation gone dangerously awry. The emotional vacuum that fuels these ideologies is rooted in a relatively unknown and complex structural transformation. This is the collapse of the Indian joint family system.

What was once a web of interpersonal relationships stemming through cousins, grandparents, aunts, and uncles who collectively buffered adolescence, has withered into vertical units of high-rise isolation. Today, parents are caught in the double bind of economic ambition and emotional absenteeism. This has reduced communication with their children to digital check-ins. Where, “Had dinner?”, becomes a proxy for concern, “Marks?” passes for conversation. The result of this, as a UNICEF survey corroborated, is that 54% of urban Indian teenagers spend less than 30 quality minutes with parents every day all while managing to average 6.5 hours of screen time.

Sociologist Dr Rajni Palriwala summarised this as not being a case of parental lack of care but that “we’ve created an economic system where being present for your child is a luxury good.”

In the vacuum of this ‘attention economy’, teenagers turn to the most readily available source, the phone and the Internet. The National Crime Record Bureau’s (NCRB) 2023 report revealed that one in three Indian teenagers experience “significant distress” when posts underperform.

The Netflix series, Adolescence, captures this hunger for validation manifested in the need for constant attention in a moving moment. A teenage girl obsessively refreshes her phone, watching her newly posted selfie languish at three likes. Forty minutes later, she deletes the post, whispering to her reflection, “I guess I’m ugly.” This is not vanity. The assessment of one’s self-efficacy, self-image and ultimately identity is reduced to digital applause.

A 2024 report from the Girls’ Education Initiative found that 72% of girls edit every photo before posting, fearing rejection not from people, but from pixels. Calling out digital media platforms, cyberpsychologist Dr Sameer Malhotra warns the adolescent digital community to vary from outsourcing their self-esteem to, “Silicon Valley’s engagement algorithms”. For the adults, Dr Malhotra has a different message- “When a child believes they’re worthless because an app didn’t give them enough hearts, that’s not an individual failure—it’s societal malpractice.”

It is not just their physical and mental health that is at stake. Adolescents’ value for existence and life itself is at a crossroads. The All India Institute of Medical Sciences (AIIMS) research stated that the statistic of growth in hospitalisations for self- harm among 13 to 19-year-olds rose by 180% since 2019. So, what now? How do we rebuild bridges without sounding like tourists in their world?

The answer begins with humility. Schools and communities must offer digital literacy not just for students but for parents—where teens teach adults how their world works. As educator Kavita Anand puts it, “When a father understands why his son cares about Snapchat streaks, that’s the first step toward real connection.” Empathy grows when power dynamics shift, and when adults are willing to become learners again.

The counter to the manosphere isn’t censorship but new narratives. Boys need to see men who cry, who cook, who care. From classrooms to cinema, from textbooks to dinner tables, representations of nurturing, emotionally intelligent masculinity must become mainstream. When a boy sees a male teacher openly discussing anxiety, or a father unashamedly shedding tears at a movie, it chips away at the myth that vulnerability is weakness. These new archetypes don’t just offer balance—they offer liberation.

As Adolescence fades to black, a teenager’s phone screen glows with an unanswered cry for help—an image that lingers like an ache. The question it leaves us with is simple but seismic: will we keep dismissing their world as trivial until tragedy strikes, or will we cross the digital divide with open minds and say, “We may not speak your language yet, but we’re learning”?

That choice won’t just shape families. It will define India’s emotional future. The data is undeniable. What's needed is the collective will - from parents, educators and policymakers - to bridge this divide before another generation is lost to the void between screens and souls. The adolescents are speaking. The only question remaining is: Are we ready to listen?

This article is authored by Komal Sood, director-principal, Vega Schools.