Fourteen-year-old Aanya no longer measured her days in hours. She measured them in notifications.
By sunrise in Gurugram, she had already taken three selfies. One was posted. Two were edited — skin softened, brightness lifted, imperfections erased. By the time she reached school, she was checking for likes.
When her mother took her phone away after her grades slipped, the reaction was explosive.
“It’s not fair! You don’t understand!” Aanya shouted, slamming her door. The anger felt larger than the moment — urgent, almost panicked.
Reflecting on cases like Aanya’s, Dr Munia Bhattacharya, Senior Consultant – Clinical Psychology, Mental Health and Behavioural Sciences. offered a measured but firm perspective:
“The impact of social media on children is developmental, not merely behavioural. During critical years of brain growth, platforms exploit reward systems, leading to attention fragmentation, emotional volatility, and what I call ‘filter dysphoria’ — distress when real faces don’t match edited versions.
However, outright bans are not the solution. They often trigger rebellion, push usage underground, and widen the digital gap between parents and children. Instead, we need thoughtful design regulation — default safety settings for minors, removal of addictive dark patterns, and digital emotional literacy embedded into education.
We cannot simply lock phones and call it reform. Platforms must be built responsibly for childhood, rather than reshaping childhood to fit commercial platforms.”
Aanya didn’t fully grasp policy language. But she recognized the “filter dysphoria.” She felt it every time she opened Instagram and compared her unedited reflection to polished images.
Her mood rose and fell with notifications. If a post didn’t perform well, she felt invisible. When her phone was taken away, irritation flared instantly — as if something essential had been cut off.
Psychologist Abhishek Banerji explains why that reaction is becoming increasingly common:
“Emotionally, social media intensifies comparison-driven self-esteem issues. Children report heightened fear of missing out, body image concerns, and anxiety linked to validation cycles of likes and views. For developing minds, peer approval in digital spaces can feel disproportionately powerful.”
For Aanya, peer approval didn’t just matter — it defined the day.
In therapy, she began understanding that the problem wasn’t weakness. Her brain was responding exactly as designed — to novelty, to reward, to validation. The platforms were engineered for engagement; her self-control was still under construction.
But the most important shift happened at home.
Instead of confiscating the phone in frustration, her mother tried something new.
“How does it feel when someone else’s post gets more attention?” she asked one evening, softly.
Aanya hesitated. “Like I’m behind. Like I’m not enough.”
That conversation opened a door.
Some evenings, Aanya still scrolled. Other evenings, she sat on the balcony watching the sky fade from orange to violet — restless at first, then calmer. The silence between notifications slowly became less frightening.
The phone remained. The apps didn’t change overnight.
But awareness entered the room.
And sometimes, reform doesn’t begin with restriction. It begins with understanding — teaching children that their brains are learning, their identities are forming, and their worth has never depended on a glowing number on a screen.
