"Men Need to Talk Too”: An Experience from Men’s Mental Health Awareness Month

[Shahrukh Atpade]

"Being a man is not easy."
I have heard this sentence many times while talking with young men and men in Nandwal village. At first, it sounded like a simple sentence, but as I spent more time with them, I started to understand the weight behind these words. Responsibilities, financial stress, family expectations, work pressure, fear of failure, worries about the future, and not having a space to express feelings many men carry all of this quietly.
June is celebrated around the world as Men's Mental Health Awareness Month. On this occasion, I thought about creating a meaningful conversation on mental health with the young men and men of Nandwal village. But we did not want this discussion to be like a formal meeting. We wanted to create an experience where people could first connect with each other, enjoy themselves, and then open up.
So, we invited everyone for a shared meal.
In the evening, the young men of the village gathered together. Some collected firewood, some lit the cooking stove, and some took responsibility for cooking. After a long time, many of them had come together in this way. Instead of mobile screens, they had cooking utensils in their hands and smiles on their faces.
While the food was being prepared, it suddenly started to rain.
For a moment, everyone started running around. But then, while protecting themselves from the rain, laughing, getting wet, and helping each other, we completed the cooking. Later, some young men said, “Today’s rain was not an obstacle for us; instead, it became a memory.” Another young man said, “After many months, I laughed from my heart. The rain did not spoil the program; it made it even more special.”
The meal we prepared together and the collective effort behind it felt like a healing process in itself. Many people said that they rarely get a chance now to spend time with friends in this way.
After the meal, we sat in a circle and started a conversation about mental health.
At first, there was some hesitation. But slowly, one voice after another began to be heard.
One young man said,
“Because of my family’s financial situation, I had to start working at an early age. Sometimes I feel tired, but I do not know whom to talk to.”
Another said,
“We are taught from childhood that men do not cry. So even when we feel sad, we keep it inside.”
A married man said,
“While doing everything for my family, I forget to make time for myself. Sometimes my heart feels very heavy, but because people expect me to be strong, I stay silent.”
Some young men also spoke openly about excessive mobile phone use, addiction, unemployment, and worries about the future.
That evening, I realized one thing: men want to talk. They just need a safe space, listening ears, and people who do not judge them.
As the conversation moved forward, we shifted from problems to solutions. And this is where I found the most hope.
The men shared many positive ways based on their own experiences.
Some talked about meeting friends regularly.
Some mentioned going for walks in the morning, exercising, and playing games.
Others suggested spending more time with family.
One young man said,
“When I share what is in my heart with a friend, half of my stress goes away.”
Another said,
“We should have such conversations more often in the village. Everyone should get a chance to speak.”
While listening to these words, I could see the true beauty of the SALT process. The solutions did not come from outside. They came from people’s own experiences, their own wisdom, and their own strengths.
While returning home that night, many thoughts were in my mind. As a SALT Facilitator, I have been part of many conversations, but the honesty I experienced that evening was different. There were moments when I simply wanted to keep listening. Sometimes I even thought that a miracle should happen and all the pain, stress, and loneliness in the hearts of these men should disappear.
But then I realized that maybe the miracle was already happening.
The miracle was men sitting together.
The miracle was the courage to speak openly.
The miracle was the feeling that “I am not alone.”
The miracle was the care created by the community for the community.
Creating awareness about mental health is important. But even more important is creating spaces where people can be themselves, speak openly, and move forward together with the support of others.
On that rainy evening in Nandwal, we did not just eat together.
We listened to each other.
We understood each other.
And perhaps, we also shared a small part of the responsibility for each other’s mental well-being.
Because sometimes change does not begin with a big program.
It begins with a simple conversation, a shared meal, and a community that listens from the heart.

[Moumita Kayal]

This is a truly inspiring and heartfelt reflection. Thank you for creating a safe space where men could connect, share their feelings, and support one another without judgment. Your efforts beautifully show that real change begins with listening, empathy, and community care. Wishing you continued success in creating more such meaningful conversations and positive impact in the lives of people. Keep up the wonderful work!