Maybe because it’s just easier to assume than to understand.
But let’s be honest, it’s not just them. We all do it.
Someone looks too good, dresses too well, or smiles a little too much, and our brains go, “Hmm… must be up to something.”
And… then this
“You look too good. How many people have you dated?”
Apparently, that’s what people think. A classic Indian judgment.
We say it about people. We say it about products. And now, we say it about gummies.
Because we Indians have a thing for judging by appearances. Looking good automatically makes you suspicious.
If someone looks too put-together, too stylish, too confident — we don’t compliment them first.
We assume things.
“Must be high-maintenance.”
“Too fancy, probably fake.”
It’s not just people. We do this with everything.
A restaurant that looks too polished? “Looks expensive already, one bottle of water would be some 50 rupees.”
A perfume that smells too good? “Probably exported and must be expensive.”
A vitamin that looks like candy? “There’s no way this works.”
That’s the same energy gummies have been fighting since the day they arrived.
Because in India, we don’t trust what looks too good to be true.
Health, in our minds, still needs to look serious.
We’ve always measured “real” health by how bitter it tastes, how long it hurts, and how complicated it sounds. Because somehow, we move on the blindside, believing that mystery itself makes it more effective.
Dark bottles. Metallic labels. Words we can’t pronounce.
If it’s cute, colorful, or fun, it can’t be real, right?
Gummies broke every one of those unspoken rules. They were sweet, pretty, chewable, and—God forbid—enjoyable. So, of course, people didn’t take them seriously.
Not because they don’t want to be healthy. But because they’ve been taught that real health is supposed to hurt a little. It has to taste bad, smell clinical, or come with a doctor’s note.
So when gummies showed up looking like sweet candy, what did we do? We rolled our eyes.
They were too bright, too Instagrammable, too… unserious. Something people coming from foreign countries buy, along with chocolates and perfumes, maybe, but not something you actually trust.
That’s the real trust deficit. Not in science, but in presentation.
And you can’t even blame anyone for that. Our relationship with health has always been about effort.
If it feels easy, it feels fake. If it looks fun, it looks jokey.
So, when gummies appeared that looked like Instagram props, India collectively went, “Cute… but no thanks.”
But there’s another layer…
The fake product trauma.
Every time a health trend goes mainstream, you see influencers smiling and chewing one on camera, but nobody tells you what it’s actually doing for your hair, your skin, or your sleep, and then a hundred lookalike brands pop up overnight.
Different names, same labels, wild claims. And just like that, trust takes another hit.
So, even when legitimate, tested gummies appeared, they were already guilty by association. Hence, people assumed it’s another social-media thing.
People didn’t doubt the concept; they doubted the market. It’s not disbelief; it’s damage control.
Then there’s visibility, or the lack of it.
You won’t find gummies placed proudly on pharmacy counters.
You’ll find them tucked beside protein bars, hair oils, or imported teas, half health, half lifestyle, not fully either. Which, again, tells the Indians, “This isn’t medicine. It’s marketing.”
In India, how you’re seen decides how you’re trusted. So yeah, the trust deficit is real. But it’s not permanent.
And let’s not forget education, or rather, the lack of it.
There’s still so little accessible information on what gummies do, how they work, and why they’re effective.
What we get instead are pretty pictures and vague promises. Fun to look at, not enough to believe in.
Trust doesn’t grow on aesthetics; it grows on understanding.
And until people understand why gummies work, they’ll keep filing them under “maybe later.”
But the younger Indians are already breaking that cycle.
They research, they review, they test.
They don’t need a doctor’s nod. They need proof. And that’s what will eventually change everything. Because trust doesn’t grow from packaging, it grows from experience.
And today, trust is about believing in how consistent it feels, not what looks serious.
That’s why people slowly start believing not because of ads, but because their hair feels stronger, their skin looks clearer, and their sleep improves.
Because a proof beats any packaging. And trust doesn’t come from one ad, one influencer, or one gummy box. It comes from small, quiet consistency, the same kind that actually makes wellness work.
And then what happens…?
The product doesn’t have to look credible anymore; it is.
The funny thing is, this story isn’t just about gummies.
It’s about how we treat anything that looks a little too good.
Pretty people. Pretty products. Pretty ideas. Pretty love.
We don’t trust them until they prove themselves, again and again.
So maybe it’s time we stopped assuming that “looking good” and “working well” can’t exist in the same sentence.
Because sometimes, things really can look good and work well. It just takes us a little longer to trust them.