NEW DELHI: At 30, Seher Hashmi is preparing for a 55-day motorcycle journey from Delhi to Kanyakumari and back — planning to cover 50-plus cities and reach out to more than 100 schools, colleges and community spaces along the way.
After riding from Delhi to Kashmir last year, she is taking the journey further as part of her mental-health awareness campaign — a deeply personal way of making sense of a childhood she once struggled to comprehend.
For years, Seher Hashmi was labelled a “difficult child”. She cried for hours, struggled in class and had to be shifted from one school to another. By the time she entered her teens, the distress deepened into thoughts of self-harm.
Adopted before she was even a year old, Seher was loved by her new family, but grappled with questions about her biological parents and had an apprehension that she would be abandoned. “I always had this sense of fear: If my biological parents did not keep me, who else would? Everyone in my new family was nice, and I knew I was loved, but I had my own challenges dealing with my emotions,” Seher told TOI.
Her adoptive mother, Shabnam, said the signs of struggle first appeared when Seher was around three. She would scream, cry and show extreme anger. The family consulted several psychiatrists, who suggested that separation trauma could be a trigger.
“Seher constantly wondered: ‘Do my adoptive parents love me? Who are my biological parents?’ We realised she needed help and that we had to build a bridge between what she was feeling and what we could understand. Looking back, we wish we had recognised the signs earlier,” Shabnam said, adding, “Seher isn’t alone. Many adoptive kids go through this trauma.”
While many such children lead happy lives, mental health experts say that among some, the struggles may not always appear as psychiatric conditions. Sometimes, they surface in small, everyday moments that make a child feel different.
Avinash Kumar, founder of Families of Joy, an NGO, and an adoptive parent, said he saw this in his own children. “Everything may seem to be fine, but small moments can trigger sudden sensitivity,” he said.
His son, Soham, was in Class I when he told his teacher, “Ma’am, I am adopted.” Her response was, “Oh!” That ‘oh’ was very heavy for him. Such hypersensitivity can take years to resolve.
“Society also reinforces this notion. Movies talk about blood being thicker than water, and children hear such messages. On several occasions, I have had to walk up to people and reaffirm, ‘He is my son.’ Soham immediately felt more confident,” said Kumar.
For another adoptive parent, Rahul (name changed), the trigger came from something as routine as a school assignment. His child was asked to bring earlier photographs to class. “It may seem like a simple task, but for an adopted child who does not have those photos, it can make them feel different and raise existential questions,” Rahul said.
Dr Sameer Malhotra, principal director and head, department of mental health and behavioural sciences, Max Healthcare, Saket and Panchsheel Park, said adopted children can be vulnerable to mental-health difficulties in different ways.
“I have seen children turn extremely aggressive, question their biological parents and put considerable stress on the family. Fear of abandonment is strong, and society has already been harsh on them. I have seen some adopted kids with borderline personality traits and emotional dysregulation; some with ADHD or conduct problems; and some with impulse dyscontrol and anxiety,” the doctor said, adding, “As Seher channelised it through a bike journey, some can do it through arts and other things. We should encourage adoption, but also talk openly about its challenges and provide the right support.”
In the case of schoolchildren, the early warning signs teachers spot are often the most crucial. “In one instance, a student repeatedly reported stomach aches despite no detectable medical condition. When I spoke to her, it became clear she was experiencing mild anxiety and feeling overwhelmed because of frequent fights at home. Children can’t always understand or articulate their emotional experiences. So these concerns often manifest through physical symptoms,” said Kadambari Katoch, a psychologist.
In 2014, Seher withdrew herself almost completely, spending much of her time locked in her room. Her parents eventually stopped pushing her to do things she could not cope with and sought professional help. At Children First, a child and adolescent mental health service, Seher was diagnosed with clinical depression and borderline personality disorder.
Recovery was gradual. In 2016, Seher started sharing her journey with people, speaking openly about her struggles. Today, the child once labelled “difficult” is preparing for another journey for those who are similarly struggling to make sense of their lives.
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