-By Rudrangshi Saha
How long does it take for a headline to lose its sensationalism? A week. Seven days. One hundred and sixty-eight hours. That’s the average lifespan of a news story, according to a 2018 Google Trends analysis conducted in partnership with Schema and Axios. In this transient world of “breaking news,” this is the grim epitaph of every harrowing incident, every injustice, every crime that could’ve sparked revolution but instead, dwindled into a whisper. But why does a nation, that thrives on its “sab chalta hai” apathy, move on so swiftly from crises that deserve prolonged scrutiny? Why does the fourth pillar of democracy stumble and stoop to cheap dramatics rather than serve the justice its spine was meant to uphold?
Let’s not mince our words here: the Indian media is a commodity, a sellout marching as an institution of accountability. It isn’t a watchdog anymore; it’s a lapdog. Aggrandizement is its oxygen, and ethics its victim. Case in point? The RG Kar Medical College protests, where doctors demand basic, human rights. The coverage roared like a bonfire, only to fizzle out in the smoky aftermath of celebrity gossip. Deepika Padukone’s baby bump became the next “national issue,” while doctors still struggle in the shadows. Their plight doesn’t seem to make it to the headlines anytime soon again. And what does this say about us? That we are a society captivated by glitter but blind to the grit.
The Spin Cycle Of Outrage
The Indian media functions like a ravenous predator: it pounces on a “hot topic,” chews on every salacious angle, and vomits unsolicited drivel into our laps. But when the embers of public outrage cool, the story is abandoned like yesterday’s trash. No follow-ups, no accountability, no resolutions—only the next controversy to exploit.
Consider Sushant Singh Rajput’s tragic death in 2020. The coverage was grotesque, a carnival of moral bankruptcy. News anchors screamed “justice!” while airing wild conspiracy theories, harassing grieving families, hailing toddlers as reincarnations and tailing celebrities’ cars as if privacy were a disposable social construct. Ethics, integrity, and journalistic responsibility? All auctioned off to the highest bidder—TRPs. And when the public grew weary of the spectacle, the “loud” voices of concern conveniently softened into a deafening silence. Justice, in its truest sense, remains elusive, drowned in the cacophony of theatrics.
A 2023 Reuters Institute report reveals that 58% of Indian news consumers believe the media is biased. For perspective, this figure is 22% higher than the global average. No wonder why. In Manipur, where ethnic violence is still at an all-time high and has killed over 200 people and displaced thousands, silence has been the loudest scream. Villages burn, children die, and women mourn in shadows, but the mainstream media prefers saffron controversy over scarlet flames. Internet shutdowns have smothered voices, but what’s the real tragedy? That the atrocities never really broke into the public consciousness.
A Bleak Media Landscape
Even the incidents that shake our conscience—such as the Ujjain gang-rape case or the Electoral Bond scam—have followed the same trajectory. Initially, there’s an avalanche of outrage, amplified for days. But over time, this outrage is replaced by something trivial, like a viral dance video or a cricket match.
As Rabindranath Tagore penned: "Chhinnopotro jotokhani jwole, Shudhui krondon shunaye dole."
(“As the tattered letters burn, only cries echo and sway.”)
These lines resonate deeply with the current state of Indian media—a dejected terrain where tragedies burn bright for a brief moment, only to be reduced to ashes of forgotten stories. Every cry for justice, every voice raised against injustice, is muffled, discarded and burnt by the fire of ignorance. Our journalists, instead of preserving these embers to ignite change, let them smoulder into oblivion, moving on to the next profitable headline.
The Path Forward—Or the Lack Thereof
Is there a way out? Perhaps. Stricter regulation of corporate influence in newsrooms, the revival of investigative journalism, and a push for public-funded news models could help. But will it happen? Not in a system designed to profit from ignorance. Expecting Indian media to reform itself is like expecting a mirage to quench thirst, beautiful in theory but absurd in practice.
In conclusion, Indian media isn’t a mirror reflecting reality; it’s a prism, refracting it from the most profitable angles. Until the public demands accountability, we’ll remain prisoners of a circus where catastrophe is entertainment, ethics are expendable, and justice is a mere afterthought.
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