THE new sunday express MAGAZINE Voices Anand Neelakantan Shampa Dhar-Kamath Sunaina Anand Ravi Shankar Ajai Sahni Swami Sukhabodhananda Buffet People Wellness Books Food Art & Culture Entertainment AUGUST 10 2025 SUNDAY PAGES 12 Z By Konkana Ray “My wishlist is filled with toys. People still say toys are for kids, but collectors like me—we take it in good spirit. We know it is no child’s play.” ara 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, << Abhijeet Kini, collector 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 “I collect only Funkos. They’re tiny, smug, wide-eyed versions of my childhood trauma dressed as heroes. They guard my peace, my memories, and my very fragile sanity.” Dr Siddharth Chowdhury, Collector Toy Story The rise of the ‘Kidult’ is transforming the toy industry. Is it merely a hobby, or does it reflect something deeper? game on LEGO® India’s first certified store in India, located in Gurugram, clocked over 1,00,000 visitors within its first month—many of them adults who had travelled from far and wide 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 , “The toys represent a piece of my childhood brought to life. The hobby is still new for me, and costly to grow, but I hope I’ll get there with time.” Yashooyuta Wani, collector 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 Turn to page 2