Hikikomori—a condition marked by extreme and prolonged social withdrawal—is no longer confined to Japan. Once used by Japanese psychiatrist Tamaki Saito in the late 1990s to describe people who isolate themselves from society for months or even years, the idea is increasingly surfacing among young Indians navigating burnout, depression, work fatigue, and digital dependency.
“I didn’t realise when my room became my entire world,” says Rohan Dahiya, a 24-year-old UPSC aspirant from Delhi. After repeated exam setbacks, he gradually stopped meeting friends and family. “At first, it felt like focus. Then it became comfort. Now, stepping out feels like an effort.” Today, he is in therapy, painstakingly trying to rebuild his routine and social confidence.
Rohan’s story is not an isolated case but part of almost invisible growing pattern of emotional retreat among urban youth. Yet, not every experience of withdrawal feels painful—at least not initially.
“The withdrawal itself seems to be the central problem, shaped more by social, cultural, and situational factors than by a discrete mental illness.”Dr Era Dutta, consultant psychiatrist
Take Ananya Singh, a 27-year-old freelance graphic designer from Bengaluru, who has worked entirely from home for over a year. Most of her interactions now exist online. “No office politics, no pressure to perform socially. I create, I earn, I exist on my own terms.” She admits she hasn’t met old friends in months and avoids family gatherings altogether. As long as it doesn’t adversely affect her mental health, Ananya sees little reason to give up what she calls her drama-free, hermetic lifestyle.
Together, Rohan and Ananya represent two ends of the same spectrum: a generation increasingly tempted to opt out of the exhausting demands of social participation. In a hyper-connected yet deeply lonely society, hikikomori is emerging as a modern coping mechanism.
Consultant psychiatrist, Dr Era Dutta, clarifies that hikikomori is not a diagnosable psychiatric disorder as per standard manuals. Instead, it operates in a grey area, frequently co-occurring with conditions like severe depression, social anxiety, or autism spectrum disorders. “The withdrawal itself seems to be the central problem, shaped more by social, cultural, and situational factors than by a discrete mental illness,” she explains. While temporary withdrawal is a normal response to burnout or grief, Dr Dutta warns that prolonged isolation is genuinely harmful.
Senior psychologist Arouba Kabir notes that the biggest misconception is viewing hikikomori as mere laziness. “Psychologically, it’s actually closer to deep nervous system shutdown,” she says. “When someone withdraws to that level, it’s usually not because they don’t want life. It’s because life has started to feel overwhelming, unsafe, or painfully exposing.”
Kabir points out that perfectionists, highly sensitive individuals, or those dealing with intense family pressure, harsh comparison and early experiences of failure are particularly vulnerable. Withdrawal, in these situations, becomes a coping mechanism, a protective response. “But over time, the same ‘safe’ space becomes a prison.” Recovery, Kabir notes, “The biggest emotional shift is from: ‘The world is too much for me’ to ‘Maybe I can handle small pieces of it.’”
“It’s creating a generation of malfunctioned relationships because apps are just making life easier while taking away the nuances of personality.”Karishma Chhabria, behavioural trainer
Beyond the clinical and psychological, there is a profound societal shift at play, driven heavily by our digital lives. Senior behavioural trainer, Karishma Chhabria, views this growing trend with deep concern: “It’s creating a generation of malfunctioned relationships because apps are just making life easier while taking away the nuances of personality development.”
Ultimately, the growing phenomenon forces us to hold up a mirror to the high-pressure, hyper-digital society we have built. For those like Rohan, the journey out of the room is daunting, built on the slow relearning that the world can be survivable. For those like Ananya, the room remains a sanctuary. But for society at large, the growing silence behind these closed doors is a conversation we can no longer afford to ignore.