Katti–Batti vs Adult Ghosting: One Was Kinder


Before we learned to ghost, mute, archive, and “seen-zone” people, we had something beautifully honest, The Katti–Batti. One hooked pinky, one dramatic announcement, and friendship was officially paused. No ambiguity. No anxiety. No overthinking at 2 AM. Just clarity.

For many of us who grew up in 90s India, Katti–Batti wasn’t just a game, it was our first emotional contract. Katti meant “I’m angry. Don’t talk to me.” Batti meant “Okay fine, I miss you. Let’s be friends again.” Simple, efficient, emotionally regulated and oddly healthier than how we handle conflict today.

The Golden Age of Emotional Clarity

In the 90s, disagreements came with structure. You fought over crayons, cricket turns, or who got the last piece of chalk. Someone would shout “KATTI!” with dramatic flair. Pinky fingers hooked. The damage was done.

But here’s the magic part, Katti came with an unspoken expiry date. It lasted till recess, till the teacher scolded both of you, or till boredom kicked in. Then came Batti with fingers uncrossed, sometimes sealed with a shy smile, sometimes with a hug, sometimes with shared lunch.

Conflict had a beginning, middle, and end.

Katti–Batti Across India: Same Emotion, Different Flavours

Across India, the ritual changed slightly, but the psychology stayed the same.

In many parts of North India, children would loudly declare “Katti!” and cross their fingers, sometimes even turning their backs for extra drama. Batti was equally dramatic, often announced with “Chal theek hai” or “Batti kar le?”

In South India, especially Tamil and Telugu households, Kai was quieter but firm, pinky fingers hooked, eyes avoided. Pazham came with gentler gestures, sometimes just rejoining play without words, because reconciliation didn’t always need an announcement.

In Maharashtra, some kids added rules like no talking, no sharing, no sitting together. In Bengal, playful sulking mixed with emotional expression like hurt was shown, not hidden.

Different regions, same core truth: emotions were acknowledged, not avoided.

Then We Grew Up , And Lost the Script

Fast forward to adulthood. Conflict no longer comes with pinky fingers. It comes with silence.

  • Instead of saying, “I’m upset,” we stop replying.
  • Instead of declaring distance, we disappear.
  • Instead of Batti, we ghost.

Psychologically, ghosting feels easier because it avoids discomfort. But it creates emotional ambiguity, which is far more damaging than clear rejection. Our brain struggles with unanswered questions. We replay conversations, blame ourselves, and stay emotionally stuck, because there was no closure ritual.

Katti was honest. Ghosting is confusing.

Why Katti Was Kinder (Yes, Really)

Katti allowed space without abandonment. It said, “I’m angry, but I still exist here.” Ghosting says nothing, and that silence often feels like rejection, shame, or worthlessness. Childhood conflicts taught us something important: relationships can pause without ending. Today, we treat every disagreement like a potential ending because we never learned how to repair as adults.

What We Can Learn From Our 7-Year-Old Selves

We don’t need to bring back pinky rituals (though honestly, it would help). But we do need to bring back clear communication.

Say you’re upset.

  • Ask for space, with a return date.
  • Allow reconciliation without ego.
  • Normalize repair, not disappearance.

The Closing Batti

Katti–Batti worked because it respected emotions on both sides. It gave anger a voice and friendship a way back. Maybe growing up didn’t make us emotionally smarter, just more avoidant.

So the next time you feel like disappearing, remember: Even 90s kids knew, distance is kinder when it’s explained.

And maybe… it’s time we chose Batti again. 💛

Written By : R. Sagarikaa, Editorial Head

Comments

  1. Your article took me straight back to those old days of school friendships , when "katti batti" was the ultimate silent punishment and every message unread felt like the end of the world. Reading this made me smile and cringe at the same time; adult ghosting feels complicated, but that simple, goofy version of falling out felt so real and human. It reminded me how much our ways of connecting have changed, yet how those little hurts and misunderstandings still feel just as big. Beautifully written and strangely comforting.

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