When National Issues Become Jokes, Jokes Become National Issues!

In a country of 1.4 billion people, where a paper leak can jeopardize the futures of lakhs of students, a tragic bridge collapse can go unnoticed, and legislative overhauls barely spark debate, what dominated India’s digital attention in recent months? A messy entanglement between a comedian (Samay Raina), an influencer-podcaster (Ranveer Allahbadia aka BeerBiceps), and another influencer Apoorva (aka The Rebel Kid) on a subscription based show where dark humour has been the core genre.

Let’s be honest: we’ve all been there—doom-scrolling through stories, watching influencers post cryptic messages, piecing together online drama like digital detectives. But somewhere between the reels and Reddit threads, a quiet question began to rise: Why is this the loudest thing in our country right now?

Most didn’t stop to ask: why does this matter more than anything else happening around us?

And that’s when things start to feel... off.

Everyone became moral judges!

While this drama consumed timelines, somewhere else in India:

• A rape survivor was still waiting for her case to be heard.

• Families were still grieving after the NEET paper leak jeopardised their children’s futures.

• A girl in a small town was denied justice because the media didn’t find her “viral” enough.
  But we didn’t talk about those things. Not with the same urgency. Not with the same obsession.

And it’s not about comparing pain. It’s not about saying “this matters more than that.” It’s about balance. About perspective.

Was this controversy important? Maybe. Was it this important? Probably not.

We live in a time where real issues feel heavy, and online drama feels... easier. It’s bite-sized. Entertaining. It comes with flashy edits, dramatic music, and an easy place to point blame.

But we have to ask ourselves—at what cost?

Because every time we turn away from the hard stuff—like injustice, violence, policy failures—we send a message: that spectacle matters more than substance. That popularity decides whose story gets heard.

And that’s not just a media problem. That’s an us problem.

Influencer culture is India’s new celebrity culture

What once happened to film stars in gossip magazines is now happening to digital creators—in real time, with higher stakes. Samay and Ranveer are not just entertainers. They’re brand ambassadors, podcast hosts, voices shaping Gen Z and millennial discourse on everything from spirituality to dating. That’s why this controversy wasn’t just tea—it was currency. It gripped us not because it was important, but because it was familiar, dramatic, and unfolding live. Yes, influencers do hold responsibility of how they should project themselves when thousands are hearing them, but this case was more than just right or wrong. The kind of attention it got, just wasn't justified in my opinion. 

Media trial 2.0: Who needs courts when we have comment sections?

What makes this saga especially troubling is the way it played out like a virtual courtroom. No due process, just audience outrage. Both Samay and Apoorva faced an avalanche of trolling, threats, and unsolicited moral judgments. Ranveer, for his part, was simultaneously condemned and defended, with thousands speculating over the “real truth.”

In the process, we forgot that real lives were being pulled apart in public. Allegations of emotional abuse and manipulation deserve a space for truth, justice, and healing—not a Twitter jury hungry for viral content.

Bigger headlines, smaller attention spans

This isn’t to say that emotional manipulation or relationship-based abuse is trivial—it absolutely isn’t. But at a time when brutal rape cases go underreported, victims fight for years for justice, and survivors barely get media space, it's worth asking: was this influencer controversy really worth this much oxygen?

Should a podcast breakup dominate Instagram stories while young girls across the country are denied safety, dignity, or a voice? Was it about right or wrong—or simply about who could package their pain more effectively for the algorithm?

This isn’t about diminishing someone’s hurt. It’s about perspective. About proportion. We are giving more airtime to the emotional fallout of creators than to systemic injustice endured by thousands every day.

Who's to blame: The creators or the crowd?

Creators now live under the constant threat of scrutiny, but they also fuel the machine. Many profit from parasocial relationships—where audiences feel so emotionally invested, they believe they deserve to take sides, assign blame, and demand closure.

But audiences aren’t innocent either. We enable this system with our clicks, shares, and outrage. We turn timelines into battlegrounds and personal pain into popcorn entertainment.

The real takeaway

This isn’t just a “he said, she said” moment. It’s a mirror. We are a nation increasingly addicted to spectacle and numbed to substance. Our media diet is full of processed drama and low on information nutrition.

While a nation scrolls through influencer breakdowns and relationship exposés, real stories—of people, policies, and power—get buried. The drama may be viral, but the consequences of our distracted gaze aren’t just personal. They’re political.

This isn’t a call to cancel anyone. Not the creators. Not the audience. Not even ourselves. It’s a call to reflect.

The people at the centre of this drama? They’re human. Flawed. Hurting. Just like the rest of us.

But so are the people we didn’t talk about that week. The girls fighting for justice. The students crushed under systemic failure. The unheard, the unseen.

We owe it to them—and to ourselves—to look up from the drama every once in a while. To ask harder questions. To care about more than just what’s trending.

Because in the end, what we choose to pay attention to says more about us than it does about anyone else.