Zara had never really thought of herself as a collector. Not in the formal, label-wearing sense of the word. But over the years, between late nights at her branding job and quiet Sundays in her Bandra apartment, she found herself building something—small, deliberate, and deeply personal. It started with a single Labubu figure, spotted on an Instagram account based in Hong Kong. The character was strange—mischievous eyes, exaggerated ears, and a smile that felt more curious than cute.
It felt like a secret little world where things didn’t have to make sense. Welcome to the era of the Kidult, a delightful mash-up of ‘kid’ and ‘adult’ that celebrates the child within. This trend is transforming the global toy industry, one nostalgia-soaked, serotonin-spiking purchase at a time. Whether it’s a Harry Potter Funko Pop, a Hot Wheels wall grid, or an entire cabinet dedicated to Kawaii collectibles, grown-ups are spending hundreds of thousands on toys that offer far more than just play. They’re collecting for comfort, curating for aesthetics, and clinging—tightly and tenderly—to slivers of a simpler, sweeter past. In a research article published in the SHS Web of Conferences, a 2023 report by The Toy Association found that globally, adults account for over 25 per cent of toy sales, and India is catching up fast.
Burnout, rising anxiety, and emotional fatigue have only intensified this need for soothing rituals. These hobbies offer more than distraction—they become a form of self-regulation. “There has been a clear shift in adults’ interest in toys in the Indian market,” says Bhavana Mandon, Country Manager at LEGO® India. The brand’s first certified store in India, located in Gurugram, clocked over 1,00,000 visitors within its first month. “Play is no longer something you grow out of, but something that grows with you,” she adds. Their Play Well Report notes that 87 per cent of Indian adults wish they had more time to relax—a clue to why adult fans of LEGO are finding calm in the click of bricks.
The factors driving this phenomenon are certainly deeper than just childhood nostalgia. Consultant psychiatrist Dr Era Dutta explains, “Collecting toys triggers the brain’s reward circuitry, particularly dopamine release. Dopamine, the chemical linked to pleasure and motivation, kicks in across every stage—from the thrill of the hunt to the joy of display.” This layered process doesn’t just offer momentary joy; it creates a sense of structure, predictability, and control—all of which feel like luxuries in today’s chaotic world. Dr Dutta also links the satisfaction of completing toy sets to Gestalt theory, which describes our psychological urge for closure and completeness. For adults navigating digital fatigue, unstable careers, and modern burnout, play is not frivolous; it’s therapeutic. “For some adults, these are tactile coping mechanisms, often acting as emotional placeholders—symbols of comfort and goodness; it’s even a way to reconnect with a childhood they never fully got to enjoy. For others, it’s about meaning-making in a world that often feels meaningless,” she says.
Psychotherapist Priyanka Bajaria views this trend as willful reclamation. “I often hear clients say, ‘I didn’t get to be a child when I was one,’” she says. In a world that rushes people into productivity, adulthood often arrives before childhood truly ends—and toys, once symbols of leisure and innocence, become portals back to that untouched space. “It’s not so much about escaping life,” Bajaria explains, “but carrying something tender with you through it.” A plushie on a work desk, a superhero figurine perched on a bookshelf—these aren’t just decor choices; they’re gentle reminders of who we were before the world asked us to be serious all the time. For many, collecting becomes an act of emotional regulation—tactile, grounding, and deeply symbolic.
This shift is part of a broader generational pivot in how we define adulthood itself. No longer confined to rigid maturity markers—job, mortgage, solemn restraint—younger adults are leaning into a more emotionally fluid, creatively open version of grown-up life. “It’s a softer kind of adulthood,” says Bajaria. Toys, often once sources of comfort in solitude, are now catalysts for community. Fan groups, collector meet-ups, and online unboxings—these rituals foster shared meaning and belonging. “There’s a sense of kinship when others value what you do,” Bajaria adds. Even in therapy sessions, toys occasionally show up as powerful tools of self-expression.
Neuropsychiatrist Dr Siddharth Chowdhury’s toy-collecting journey, quite unconventionally, began in bank lockers. “I was a hardcore comic collector as a kid,” he recalls. “We’re talking ‘keep-them-in-bank-lockers’ level.” The pocket money was funnelled into limited editions. The toy bug bit later, with a single, fateful purchase: a Green Arrow Funko Pop. “I opened the box like it was a relic,” he laughs. Today, Siddharth is a big-time Funko loyalist. “I collect only Funkos. They’re tiny, smug, wide-eyed versions of my childhood trauma dressed as heroes,” he deadpans. His shelves aren’t just collections—they’re garrisons. They guard my peace, my memories, and my very fragile sanity,” he says. The idea of selling or trading? Sacrilege. “Once a Funko enters the house, it becomes family.” The only exception? His wife, who has diplomatically “borrowed” a few for her OPD chamber—Wonder Woman in a white dress, Taco Hulk, and Captain America wielding Mjolnir. “Because patients love them. One of them was ordered off the dark web. Paid in crypto and shame, but totally worth it,” he confesses.
At home, his Funkos are arranged by emotional impact and colour coordination. In his clinic, they sit in judgment of the neurotypical world, becoming silent co-therapists. “They never interrupt,” he says wryly. In his life, they’re furthermore functional, working as brilliant conversation starters, especially with neurodivergent patients. And yes, he’s been judged. Parents still mistake his collection for their kids—until he swiftly rescues them like priceless treasure from grubby hands. The best part? Finding his tribe—closeted geeks, grown-ups with noisy inner children, fellow collectors. “We nod. We respect. We share discount codes,” he smiles.
The growing community of adult toy collectors isn’t just fuelling corporate giants; it’s also carving out space for indie toy makers and artists. Shreyas Malvankar, a ’90s kid himself, began crafting cardboard toys as a child, simply because the superhero figures he craved were either unavailable or unaffordable. What began as play soon turned into a profession, as nostalgia-rich millennial adults started seeking personalised, handmade models of their favourite heroes, vehicles, and cartoons. “A lot of people want something that’s uniquely theirs, something realistic, exquisite, made just for them,” Shreyas says. His work has evolved from childhood experiments to custom-made miniatures and scale models.
With demand soaring, toy makers and sculptors like him are witnessing a new era where handmade models are treated less like toys and more like bespoke art. The craft has gained visibility, thanks to social media. “We can now market directly to collectors hungry for intricate craftsmanship that mass production still can’t replicate.” For artists, it’s a space where passion meets livelihood, and for collectors, it’s a way to own something one-of-a-kind.
Lawyer Divyanshu Singh began his love affair with cars almost as soon as he could walk. By the time he was two, he was already obsessed. He shares, “My mother, doting as ever, fed this passion.” But it wasn’t until college in 2014 that Divyanshu decided to start over—this time with the careful eye of a connoisseur. “I approached it with seriousness, understanding the collectible value, knowing what I liked, and being very intentional,” he says. Today, his collection of scale model cars is a testament to both his automotive passion and his maturing taste. “I don’t just collect cars—I collect stories, design marvels, and pieces that represent the evolution of my hobby,” he adds. Sourcing, however, is an adventure in itself. “This isn’t a mainstream hobby,” he continues, “Models are often hard to find in India or ridiculously priced. I’ve chased them across countries, navigated multiple sellers; it’s like a treasure hunt with a budget constraint.”
Of all his prized possessions, one stands out: the Mercedes-Benz W204 C-Class by AUTO art, a gift from a senior collector friend, Rohan. “We were just hanging out one Sunday, and as I was leaving, he surprised me with this model. It’s a 1:18 scale model, insanely detailed—with all functional parts—opening hood and trunk, and even carpeted interiors,” Divyanshu shares. A friend, who owns the real version of that car, once offered him $500 for it. But there was no question he’d part with that one.
The meteoric rise of adult toy collecting has pushed prices into investment territory. Globally, the toy market is booming, with an anticipated CAGR of 3.1 per cent from 2024 to 2035, expected to reach a staggering $160.4 billion by 2035. Blind-box toys like Labubu are fuelling speculative trading—retail `2,500-15,000, but resell for much higher. Even in India, collectors are not just spending, they’re investing, trading, and treating toys as cultural artefacts.
As a college student, Nikhil Kamath, author and content strategist, wasn’t hoarding notes for finals; he was dashing between McDonald’s outlets across Delhi, chasing down Happy Meal toys. The year was 2015, the Minions movie had just hit theatres, and those bright yellow figurines ignited a spark that’s now evolved into a wall-spanning collection of Funko Pops, Hot Wheels, and hard-to-find character toys. What began as playful curiosity quickly snowballed into a passionate pursuit that Nikhil now describes as equal parts pop culture tribute and emotional diary. “I grew up seeing my cousin collect cool figurines of comic book characters, and it always fascinated me,” he says. “When I started collecting myself, it was about the joy of the hunt.” Today, he sees it as collecting art. His first love was the Happy Meal line, now discontinued in India, but it laid the foundation for what would become a more serious passion: collecting Funko Pop figurines. “If I like a movie or a character, I immediately check if Funko makes a figure,” he adds.
For Nikhil, every toy has a tale. “You could point at any figure in my cabinet, and I’ll have a story about how I got it.” The most treasured? A Guns N’ Roses Slash Pop Figurine imported from Australia, which is his very first international find, and a deeply personal nod to his guitar-playing teenage years and admiration for the legendary rock band. That one delivery took six anxious weeks to arrive, but to him, it was priceless. “Subsequently, I completed the whole set with Axl Rose and Duff McKagan figures, and that’s one set I am genuinely proud of,” he smiles. This hobby has quietly led Nikhil into a vibrant world of like-minded collectors. “Recently, I traded Minecraft Movie collectible cards with a friend so we could both complete our sets.” Now, Nikhil’s collection lives in a massive custom-made cabinet that swallows half a wall of his Delhi home. “It hasn’t really changed how I live,” he laughs, “but it’s definitely made me a lot more cautious about spending. I have been quite impulsive when something rare pops up, which I consciously try to control as much as possible.”
Interestingly, not all toys need to be tangible. A growing number of collectors are now chasing digital collectibles. Popular 3D illustrator and top-selling visual artist Amrit Pal Singh flipped the script in 2021 when he minted “Frida Toy Face” on Ethereum for 3.9 ETH (around `9 lakh). Within months, his primary NFT sales crossed a million dollars, and he launched a metaverse “Toy Face Café” on virtual land, which drew an overwhelming response. Singh continues to design mascots, icons, cartoon characters, and immersive environments in his signature style, tailored for Augmented and Virtual Reality experiences.
Entrepreneur Vansh Sachdeva grew up on a steady diet of anime and cartoons, but it wasn’t until the world hit pause in 2020 that his passion took on a life of its own. “Like everyone else, I had ample time on my hands, spent scrolling through Amazon. That’s when I stumbled upon a small, seemingly harmless Spider-Man action figure. I thought, why not?” Little did he know that one impulsive purchase would quietly mark the beginning of something far bigger—a collection that would soon take over shelves, weekends, and even a secret room in his new home. “The characters I collect are rooted in stories I love, but what truly draws me in is how unbelievably cool they look. I’m especially hooked on the Revoltech Amazing Yamaguchi series. You can recreate scenes, craft new ones in your imaginary world... it’s like storytelling in 3D,” he says excitedly.
Today, Vansh sources most of his collection from the US and Japan, often through speciality sellers or imports. Over time, he’s hunted down rare editions, gone the custom route, and even picked up one-of-a-kind figures from overseas dealers. “Each one holds a memory,” he says, “so I’ve never parted with any of them.” His personal holy grail? The Hot Toys Iron Man Mark VII die-cast figure. “I wanted it for the longest time, and finally got it as a birthday gift. Then a year later, I added War Machine—they are a highlight of my collection.”
The hobby has even restructured how he lives. “When we moved houses recently, I carved out a gaming room just to display the collection,” he laughs. “Sundays are for dusting and resetting every pose—it’s oddly therapeutic. You wouldn’t believe how many friends and collectors I’ve met at Comic-Cons. It’s like discovering a whole universe where everyone just gets it.”
In India, the gender gap in toy collecting is hard to miss. The imbalance isn’t rooted in a lack of interest, but in centuries-old, deeply inherited norms. “Social conditioning often dictates that women prioritise caregiving over personal hobbies,” Dr Dutta points out. In most households, the double burden of managing careers and households leaves little time or permission for self-indulgent rituals like toy collecting. “There’s also this ingrained message that spending on oneself, especially for ‘childlike’ things, is frivolous,” she adds. Little wonder there are few women collectors when it comes to toys.
Yashooyuta Wani is one of them. She had just entered her 20s when a thoughtful gift pulled her back into a passion she’d quietly set aside. She had been a childhood toy collector—tinkering with LEGO sets, poring over cars—but it wasn’t until 2023 that it all came rushing back. That year, she was gifted a Bburago Mercedes-AMG F1 W12 E Performance 1/43 die-cast model car, a sleek miniature marvel that reminded her of everything she loved about toys: craftsmanship, nostalgia, and the quiet thrill of owning something you admire. Since then, there’s been no turning back. Her most prized collectible, however, is a childhood dream made real—a lightsaber from Singapore-based SaberMach. “It was love at first sight,” she says, recalling how she stumbled upon it while toy shopping on a trip abroad. She’d long fantasised about wielding her own lightsaber, and there it was—gleaming, meticulously crafted, and just waiting to come home with her. “It represents a piece of my childhood brought to life, and finding it by chance made it feel like a moment of fate,” she grins.
Yashooyuta’s collection now lives around her bed frame and bedside tables. And while she doesn’t yet have a dedicated display setup, she dutifully dusts and wipes each piece, cherishing them with the tenderness of someone tending to old friends. Unlike many collectors who trade and sell to fund new finds, her collection is deeply personal. But growing her collection as a 22-year-old postgraduate student comes with its own hurdles. With most collectibles priced steeply, curating a collection to her liking isn’t always feasible on a student budget. “It’s still new for me, and costly to grow,” she admits, “but I hope I’ll get there with time.” For now, her bedside display may be modest, but it’s a universe she’s slowly building—one cherished piece at a time.
Illustrator and publisher Abhijeet Kini started collecting toys—He-Man and GI-Joe action figures—over 37 years ago. Today, they are still part of his cherished collection, standing proudly alongside thousands of others. “My Hot Wheels date back to when I was maybe four or five,” he says. As a little boy, his parents would gift him these toys for birthdays or to reward a well-done report card. Decades later, not much has changed. “My wishlist back then, and even today, is filled with toys,” he laughs. In 2008, an adult Abhijeet started collecting Spawn figurines, drawn to their gritty detail and cinematic origins. From there, his universe expanded—King Leonidas from 300, Gypsy Danger from Pacific Rim, Batman (villains included), and even a striking black and white Ninja Turtles set, with inked outlines, based on the original black-and-white Peter Laird comics. But this wasn’t some random midlife nostalgia trip. Abhijeet collects toys to honour the art, the storytelling, and that electric feeling of holding a universe in miniature. “The design matters a lot, and so does the character and their stories,” he explains.
Of course, sourcing them hasn’t always been a walk down the toy aisle. “Back in the ’80s, the neighbourhood toyshop was our haven,” he recalls. Now, it’s e-commerce sites, rare pop-up stores, and trips to Comic Cons, both in India and abroad. Abhijeet has even tracked down statues like cartoonist Sergio Aragonés’ limited-edition Batman—his most treasured piece. “My wife gifted it to me. I happened to e-meet Sergio once during an online session and showed it to him—he was thrilled,” he beams.
But of course, the journey of toy collection comes with a fair share of occasional taunts. “People still say toys are for kids,” Abhijeet admits. “But collectors like me—we take it in good spirit. We know it is no child’s play.” Because behind every toy, there’s a story—and for collectors, that’s the real play.