Lights, Camera, Cruelty: How India's Most Popular Reality Show Transforms Female Participants into Targets of Real-World Digital Violence

New Delhi- Because he's born into a legacy of music royalty, son of a Bollywood actor and composer, brother to a singing sensation, his heated threats echo like lyrics in a hit track. "Hum isko Kutta bana denge..dangerous log hain, idhar kya bahar pakad lenge..." he snarls in a midnight house brawl.

On another day, he crossed all limits during a fight with another female contestant and stated, "Tu aur teri mummy dono B-grade hain," yet the inmates forgot, forgave, and voted Amaal Mallik straight into the top five contenders. Fans outside? They dubbed it "fiery passion," fired up edits with his brooding stares set to remixes, and kept his poll numbers soaring. No questions asked, no backlash brewing.

But flip the script to her: a 28-year-old spiritual influencer who steps in wide-eyed, spilling stories of her grind- from childhood scars to building an empire of fancy sarees stacked like treasures, a private elevator gliding up her dream home, and yes, a squad of 150 bodyguards shadowing her every move in a city that once felt too big. Her boasting about having many factories, from solar panels to construction materials, her frequent trips to Dubai just to savor a favorite snack like Baklava, or jetting to Delhi for a simple bowl of dal, or sipping coffee in a garden with a glance over the Taj Mahal, contestants couldn't digest what Tanya Mittal claimed about her family wealth and assets, and now the woman has been dubbed a "fenku-farzi," an untruthful person through and through.

Co-contestants sneer, housemates demand proof like it's a courtroom, and the real sting hits outside: Trolls swarm social media with "liar exposed" threads, digging for dirt on her Gwalior roots until someone files an FIR, accusing her of fraud and dragging the city's name through the mud just for "content." Social media influencer Faizan Ansari filed an FIR against Tanya Mittal at the Gwalior SSP office. Faizan alleged that Tanya defrauded people of their money and even caused her boyfriend Balraj, to be jailed. He also claimed that Tanya Mittal lied about her family and personal life on Bigg Boss 19. Faizan has demanded her arrest following the FIR filing. Doxxers go low, leaking her family's bank details and old addresses in shady Reddit threads. One post, liked over 500 times, mocks her as "boasting about wealth while playing poor."

Meanwhile, participants like Abhishek Bajaj toss around age-shaming jabs at Kunickaa Sadanand: "Old witch with a shrill voice', and walk away with laughs from the boys' club. Kunickaa, the 62-year-old vet actress, fires back once, and boom—trolls brand her a "cursing hag," dredging up her age like it's a crime. Her clip cursing Bajaj's mom? It trends as "proof she's toxic," while his retorts fade fast.

India's Bigg Boss franchise, a cultural behemoth drawing millions to its mix of drama, alliances, and unfiltered confrontations, has long blurred the line between scripted spectacle and raw human vulnerability. It airs on Colors TV. It is based on the Dutch format of Big Brother, developed by Endemol. Since its premiere on November 3, 2006, the show has completed eighteen seasons and three OTT (Over-the-Top) seasons. Presently, the show is approaching the culmination of its 19th season in two weeks. Besides the Hindi show, Big Boss has franchise in India also includes versions in Hindi, Telugu, Tamil, Malayalam, Kannada, Marathi, and Bengali.

Big Boss Hindi Season 19, which premiered on October 6, under Salman Khan's watchful eye, promised fresh faces from influencers, TV actors, film artists and reality stars. Yet, beneath the glamour, it has amplified a pernicious undercurrent: gendered online violence that spills from the show's confined walls into the vast, algorithm-driven arenas of social media. Female contestants, in particular, face a disproportionate torrent of abuse- doxxing, body-shaming, slut-shaming, and threats, that transforms fleeting on-screen moments into sustained real-world trauma.

That same uneven pull shows up in Bigg Boss Malayalam Season 7, launched in August 2025, where two brave women, Adhila Nasarin and Fathima Noora, made history as Kerala's first openly lesbian couple on the show. They hold hands through tasks, share soft moments amid the noise, and own their love like it's the simplest thing. But when contestants Lakshmi Priyanka and Mastani spit out words like "unnatural" and "forced" in a house blow-up on September 13, the cameras roll, and the outside world piles on.

Trolls spin memes mocking Noora's body as "too bold" or "unfeminine," hashtags like #UnnaturalCouple explode with slurs and shares, turning a step forward into a step back. Host Mohanlal steps in the next day, his voice steady and strong: "If you can't respect love like theirs, this house isn't for you." He adds a warm hug of words, saying he'd welcome them home anytime, and fans cheer the stand.

This report, drawing from over 100 verified X posts, news articles, and fan analyses since the season's launch, spotlights the digital backlash against key female participants like Tanya Mittal, Farrhana Bhatt, Malti Chahar and Kunickaa Sadanand. It also touches on others like Ashnoor Kaur and Neelam Giri, whose experiences underscore a pattern. While male contestants like Abhishek Bajaj and Amaal Mallik often evade similar scrutiny for comparable behaviors such as threats or aggressive rhetoric—the women endure amplified misogyny.

Algorithms on platforms like X (formerly Twitter) and Instagram prioritize outrage, creating echo chambers where slurs trend faster than support. As one X user lamented amid the frenzy, "Bigg Boss used to be about individuality, but today it’s about hypocrisy." This isn't mere "trolling"—it's systemic harm, where entertainment ecosystems normalize violence against women in public view.

Data reveals a stark gender divide: Searches for "Bigg Boss 19 harassment" yield 70% female-targeted results, with slurs like "slut," "fake," and "gutter mouth" surging post-episode airings. This report proposes actionable reforms to mitigate this cruelty.

Tanya Mittal, the 28-year-old spiritual influencer who gained traction through Instagram reels blending wellness and wit, entered Bigg Boss 19 as a wildcard on Day 1. Her poised demeanor and advocacy for mental health quickly polarized viewers. Inside the house, she navigated alliances with Amaal Mallik and Gaurav Khanna, but clips of her "sympathy plays"like emotional breakdowns over ration disputes, ignited a firestorm outside.

Online trolls have weaponized these moments into character assassination. A viral clip from November 5, showed Amaal Mallik threatening, "Kutta bana denge bahar bhi pakad lenge" (We'll turn you into a dog and catch you outside), sparking demands for "mental harassment" probes. Yet, the backlash pivoted to Tanya: Accusations of faking tears for "footage" flooded X, with users labeling her as a manipulator who "lies and boasts about her wealth."

Deeper dives reveal doxxing attempts. Post her revelation of childhood abuse- "He used to beat me"- trolls unearthed and mocked old family photos, with one Reddit thread claiming she "cleaned all posts" from her "adult toys" sales era, blending slut-shaming with economic smears.

When a wild card entry, Malti Chahar, came inside the house and told the housemates that people are verifying Tanya's claims and found them false, everyone starts making fun of the latter and label her 'farzi' and her all of her acts as done for 'footage' and camera.

One of her supporters posted on x, "Repeated bullying, targeting and wrongly set narratives by the show for content. No limit to the abuse she faced. Even now, the “fake” narrative is being set to justify other contestants’ vile behaviour. Basic empathy & humanity don’t belong in #BB19".

It's a pattern that repeats: Men roar, get redeemed; women whisper back, get wrecked.

Farrhana Bhatt, the 32-year-old actress from Laila Majnu, entered BB 19 house as a peace activist but became a lightning rod for body-shaming and homophobic trolling.

Farrhana Bhatt consistently revealed her unfiltered self throughout the season and unapologetically embraced her vampish edge without a hint of remorse—even after Salman Khan called her out twice for her abusive language. From dramatically tearing Neelam Giri's heartfelt letter to shreds during a tense confrontation, to bluntly admitting she has no idea who Gaurav Khanna is because she avoids TV serials altogether and has zero inclination to dive into the television industry despite its massive reach, Farhana remains defiantly true to her no-holds-barred persona.

A November 10 viral ad from her early career, showing a "unrecognisable" unibrow, exploded into brutal mockery: "Her audacity to enter BB with this face- shocks netizens." X erupted with slurs like "manhoos aurat" (cursed woman) and "pa*al aurat" (loose woman), with one post garnering 591 likes: "Cursing her like 'akeli reh jaayegi, akeli maregi' just shows how desperate they are to isolate her." Semantic searches for "Farhana Bhatt abuse" yielded 15 negative hits, including accusations of "homophobic freak" and "filthy mouth," tying her house comments to external shaming.

A heated exchange between Farrhana and Amaal hit a new low. Amaal used derogatory words for the actress and her mother to whcih Farrhana too, retorted sharply with equally abusive words. Amaal's aunt, Roshan Garry Bhinder, jumps into a YouTube rant on November 3, labeling Farhana a "terrorist" over the spat—words that sting with ugly undertones, especially in a country still healing from biases.

The video spreads like wildfire, racking up views before Farhana's family strikes back. On November 5, they slap Bhinder with a defamation notice, demanding a public apology, the video's takedown, and a whopping ₹1 crore in damages. Farrhana's PR team posts on her behalf: "Words hurt, but I won't break." Her strength? It only amps up the trolls, who now call her "fake victim" while Amaal's fan club shrugs off his outbursts as "alpha energy."

Ashnoor Kaur, 21, the Yeh Rishta child star turned adult hopeful, wanted Season 19 to be her "reinvention." Her bubbly energy lit up early tasks, but a November 8 captaincy scramble turned toxic. Kunickaa Sadanand, Neelam Giri, and Tanya huddled, whispering: "Jurassic Park dinosaur—even detox can't fix that bloat," mocking her mid-task snack. "Looks older than Kunickaa with no eating control," Neelam added. Ashnoor overheard, froze, then fled to the bathroom.

Family week on November 14 cracked her open. Sobbing into her dad's arms—"It's haunted me since teens, led to an eating disorder"—she spilled years of industry jabs. Salman called out the trio on Vaar: "Body-shaming a 21-year-old? Shame on you."

Celebs rallied: Hina Khan tweeted, "Disgusting—Ashnoor's confident, talented. End this." But online? The whispers amplified into roars. #AshnoorOut spiked November 15, not for gameplay but "curves"—edited clips zooming her "weight gain tendency," memes of her as a "snack monster" hitting hundreds of shares. Ashnoor Kaur's recent look during family week in the Bigg Boss 19 house also led to her being trolled on social media. However, Shehbaz's shirtless look drew zero trolls or body-shaming jabs online, a glaring contrast to the relentless mockery Ashnoor faced over her family-week clothes.

The audience, fueled by pre-existing biases and algorithmic amplification, engages in a selective consumption of events. The host's moralizing is quickly forgotten, while the original, unedited moments of conflict are extracted, weaponized, and virally circulated. This dynamic unfolds with a distinct gendered ferocity; when a woman is the subject of controversy, the backlash is disproportionately severe, transforming her from a contestant into a target for sustained digital violence, while male contestants' transgressions are often overlooked, rationalized, or even celebrated as strategic gameplay.

This uneven ground isn't new—it's been the show's shadow for 18 seasons, where bold women step up and step into a spotlight rigged against them. Go back to Season 4, and Shweta Tiwari, the single mom fighting for her kid's normalcy, faces off against a housemate's ugly divorce digs. She wins the season, trophy in hand, but online? Trolls slut-shame her past relationships, body-bash her curves as "desperate auntie bait."

Fast-forward to Season 11, Shilpa Shinde, the bubbly bahu type, clashes with Vikas Gupta in epic rows—he calls her "illiterate," she claps back sharp. Vikas gets painted as the "mastermind," his barbs forgiven as "tough love." Shilpa? Labeled "gossip queen" and hit with weight trolls that stick long after her win, posts like "Fat and fake—how did she fool everyone?" racking up shares.

Over 18 seasons, the toll adds up: Women like Gauahar Khan (Season 7 winner) face "diva gone wrong" tags for demanding respect, while men like Gautam Gulati (Season 8) get "bad boy charm" for the same. It's a quiet bias, baked into the binge-watch culture, where female fire is "drama," male fire is "iconic."

The numbers tell the story plain and simple. Out of 18 seasons, eight trophies have gone to women—Shweta Tiwari, Juhi Parmar, Urvashi Dholakia, Gauahar Khan, Shilpa Shinde, Dipika Kakkar, Rubina Dilaik, and Tejasswi Prakash. That's less than half, with ten men like Rahul Roy, Ashutosh Kaushik, Vindu Dara Singh, Gautam Gulati, Prince Narula, Manveer Gurjar, Sidharth Shukla, MC Stan, Munawar Faruqui and Karan Veer Mehra claiming the rest. Why? Not just game smarts—it's the audience vote, the same one that trends #EvictHer for a strong stand but rallies #SaveHim for a shove.

Society cheers women who play nice, stay soft, but when they lead—like Adhila and Noora owning their truth, or Farhana demanding fair play—the backlash builds walls. Strong women on screen? They inspire, sure. But in the vote tallies, that strength gets spun as "bossy" or "unlikable," leaving men to scoop the prizes and the praise. It's a mindset mirror: We love the show for its mess, but when women make the mess, we clean it up with cruelty.

Maria Juliana, better known as Julie, skyrocketed to fame with her fiery stint on Bigg Boss Tamil Season 1 (2017), but it came at a steep cost, relentless public mockery and criticism for her unfiltered antics inside the house. Even after eviction, the backlash lingered, with trolls savaging her film Amman Thayee's (2019) teaser on social media.

Fed up with the nonstop negativity, Juliana unleashed an emotional video railing against the abusers hurling crass insults over a two-year-old "lie" from the show. "I get comments so vile I can't even read them, why this endless hate? What do you gain from it? Have I ever hurt you personally? If not, why drag me for one Bigg Boss slip? I'll take the abuse only if every hater admits they've never lied in their life," she vented, her raw plea cutting through the noise.

Jaipur's Suman Devathiya, a women's rights activist fighting domestic abuse, quit Bigg Boss many seasons ago. "I stopped following the show long back because of its stoopingly low content and misogynistic approach," she stated. "There is no check on the participants, hence they keep speaking trash all the time, so much that it's below the belt. Why doesn't the Ministry put any regulations on such shows? I&B should mandate sensitivity training, like for films. This isn't fun—it's free lessons in hate."

Shiny Samson, 26, a Kerala based lawyer building a practice on cyber-harassment cases, echoes her. "It clearly fuels gender violence," she said via Zoom, her bookshelf stacked with NCW reports. "People still love the men who have no respect for women." She cites Amaal's slurs: "Only physical assault throws you out, but spoken harassment? Beeped and forgotten."

Retired psychologist Dr. Gayatri Tiwari, who spent decades studying media influences, offers a detailed explanation on the gender based digital harassment. "The show operates on a classic operant conditioning model," she stated from her home study. "When male contestants use aggression or misogyny and are subsequently rewarded with more screen time, public attention, and even victory, it powerfully reinforces that behavior in the minds of viewers. The constant, beeped-out verbal abuse is particularly insidious as it normalizes the intent to degrade women, while the lack of meaningful consequences teaches audiences that such behavior is an effective, if not celebrated, strategy for social success."

 A February 2024 research paper, titled "The Dark Side of Reality TV: A Case Study of 'Bigg Boss'" by Prasanna Dasari, investigates the negative psychological and societal impacts of the popular reality show. The study's major finding is that "Bigg Boss (Telugu)" fosters a toxic viewing environment by promoting addictive habits, normalizing negative behaviors like aggression and emotional manipulation, and exacerbating mental health issues such as anxiety and stress among its audience. Through content analysis and a case study, the research demonstrates how the show's reliance on conflict and voyeurism leads to heightened emotional reactivity and social detachment in viewers.

Based on these findings, the study issues a strong recommendation for a critical re-evaluation of such content. It calls for media producers to adopt more ethical responsibilities in their programming and urges viewers to become more conscious, critical consumers. The paper advocates for a collective effort to ensure reality TV content uplifts social and personal well-being rather than undermining it.

Anshu Nair, a New Zealand-based socially conscious individual , suggests the makers have a clear path to containment. "The producers must move beyond performative beeps and implement a strict, zero-tolerance policy for any form of harassment, verbal or otherwise," Nair asserts. "This means immediate financial penalties and, for severe or repeated offenses, expulsion from the show. Furthermore, it is imperative to have licensed counselors on set at all times to provide real-time support to contestants and to intervene in toxic situations before they escalate for entertainment."

Bigg Boss thrives because it shows us real: flaws, fights, and all. But as Season 19 barrels on, maybe it's time for the roar to shift. Not less drama, but fairer fights. Less doxxing, more dialogue. Platforms could flag the slurs faster, the show could coach on kinder cuts. Fans? We could hit like on the comebacks, not the cuts. Because when women like these endure the extra weight—the trolls, the threats, the tilted scales—they don't just survive. They redefine strong. And in a world watching, that's the real win worth voting for.

- Geetha Sunil Pillai is a Laadli Media Fellow. The opinions and views expressed are those of the author. Laadli and UNFPA do not necessarily endorse the views.