Kulveer is a facilitator in the Cha in the City programme Taraki have led to support Punjabi men. These are reflections shared by Kulveer about his journey.
Back during covid, I found myself navigating the harsh realities of mental health and the emotional roller-coaster that only I seemed to be saddled into, not leaving my place for days at a time. I realised something was missing—a space to talk, share, and connect. With peers.
This was the first time ever that the entire world was stopped dead in its tracks. Life was just the four walls in which we were confined. And so at this point in time, I was going a bit crazy. But in between those crazy moments of solitude, I wondered how my friends, a lot of them being Punjabi men, are coping in similar circumstances. The cultural silence around mental health has always been palpable yet here I was, craving a space to share what I was going through, openly, honestly and with the idea that sharing may bring me a sense of relief. A sense of belonging. And to listen and learn from others on their experiences, too.
Hmmm but who else was out there?
A new community
Growing up, the conversations around emotions, stress, or mental well-being were almost non-existent. As a millennial who straddled the pre-internet world and now lives in an era where our devices are practically an extension of ourselves, I’ve seen how rapidly changing technology can impact mental health, grappling with the tonnes of information and personalities at our fingertips.
And not knowing exactly what to do, who to be, how to be our true selves. Especially with so many social comparison springing in each Instagram conversation, and an evolving world that didn't always align with cultural expectations.
So I guess, for Punjabi men, the journey has always felt layered—it's about balancing tradition with the modern, navigating unspoken expectations, and finding ways to open up in a world where vulnerability isn’t always welcomed. And where religious/cultural guilt is areal tool used to pin people down.
I started free-verse writing to soothe away the rampaging chaos in my brain. And that helped a lot. (I love writing now - check me out here (http://www.wordsworlds.co.uk) - but I had an itch that I wanted to be part of something a lot more tangible and connect with new people who would rejoice in the sharing and understanding. I wanted to find new friends. And I wanted to feel like I belonged, as well as supporting others to feel part of a community.
And that’s where Taraki comes in. Taraki is an organisation working with Punjabi communities to reshape approaches to mental health. I connected with their work creating social space for Punjabi communities, particularly for men.
I’d been following Taraki on LinkedIn (https://www.linkedin.com/company/taraki) and had kept an eye on their work for a while, and I had even bumped into their CEO, Shuranjeet during a Punjabi cultural music event. He was definitely an inspiring figure along with all his team armed with the vision to create these culturally-sensitive spaces for open discussions. It really resonated with me, and I knew I wanted to be a part of this movement. This new community.
Learning to Listen, Learning to Lead
I put myself forward to be a facilitator for Punjabi men's peer support spaces led by the Heera Foundation and powered by Taraki. Stepping into Taraki's facilitation course was a significant step. And a real case of happenstance as I’d attended a live podcast recording for something totally separate. I ended up speaking with Shuranjeet and Amrita and ended up feeling it was the right time to explore getting involved.
Fast forward 2 weeks and I’d attended my first online training session, and the team were brilliant in teaching us new ways to think and give people the space to share and be themselves. It wasn’t just about learning techniques for guiding discussions; it was about truly understanding the depth and diversity of our experiences. And ultimately how we can help shape spaces for others to share their own experiences. There’s a unique challenge in encouraging Punjabi men to speak freely and openly, considering the societal expectations to “man up” or “deal with it” or even just “why do I need to talk about it, ey?”. The course equipped me with tools not just to facilitate, but to create safe spaces and safe conversations—places where men could show up as their true selves, without the masks our cultures and societies often pressure us to wear.
During the training, I found myself reflecting on my own experiences and realising how much I had bottled up over the years. There was a moment when we were discussing stress management techniques, and it hit me—I had always been finding ways to "distract" rather than "deal" with my issues. The facilitation course helped me understand that vulnerability doesn’t make us weak; it makes us human.
My Personal Experiences: Struggling, Speaking, and Slowly Healing
It hasn't been a straightforward path, as anyone who has dealt with mental health challenges knows. There were times when stress and anxiety felt overwhelming, and I kept telling myself I needed to "just get on with it." There was a hesitation to speak up, a feeling that maybe my struggles weren’t “real enough” to matter. But I’ve come to understand that all struggles are real. It doesn’t matter how big or small they appear to others.
During the course, we were given a handbook of exercises and techniques and within this, there were two points that really impacted my approach:
1) A quote that read “Not everything that is faced can be changed; but nothing can be changed until it is faced”. There is real strength in growing and that sometimes just the mere act of facing an issue, or a stress, can help either resolve it or help recognise when to move on.
2) The social identity wheel. This really shed light on the identities that we oftentimes cling to and perceive ourselves through, ranging from financial status and socio-economic status to religious affiliations and ethnicity. How do we see ourselves first? Before we see ourselves from other’s perspectives. Some hard hitting questions.
There might be the constant noise of social media, the endless comparisons, and the struggle to keep up with the latest trends. But on the flip side, there's also the hope that comes from using these same platforms to find community, share stories, and raise awareness. And the questions above are the gateway into opening up and looking at these stresses and strains from a different lens. To listen to others. To hear others. To give others space.
Embracing Vulnerability and Building Community: A Crucial Piece of the Puzzle
What I've learned is that we need social spaces where Punjabi men can come together and just talk, whether it's about serious topics or everyday frustrations. It’s not about replacing professional help, but about supplementing it with peer support. There’s power in knowing that someone else gets it, that you’re not alone in your experiences. This is an evolution of the idea of “hanging out with the lads” because there’s an acceptance and understanding in place of banter and one-up-man ship.
Taraki and The Heera Foundation have been instrumental in creating these environments for Punjabi men, and I’m proud to be a part of that journey. Together, we're working to dismantle the cultural barriers to mental health, one conversation at a time.
We’re in a transitional time where mental health is becoming more of a focus in our community, but there’s still a long way to go. The facilitation training has not only given me the skills to support others but also to support myself. It’s okay to be serious about your well-being, and it’s okay to approach life with a bit of humour too. After all, life is a journey, and if we can't share a laugh about it every now and then, then what’s the point?
Let's keep talking, sharing, and lifting each other up—because…well, why wouldn’t we?