Vinta Nanda examines the sharp decline in Indian television viewership, exposing outdated storytelling, stagnant formats, and industry economics that prioritise repetition over innovation, pushing audiences away from once-beloved daily soaps.

There is a peculiar stillness that has crept into Indian television today—a stillness disguised as continuity. Every evening, as I sit beside my mother between 7 pm and 10 pm, watching what remains of mainstream Hindi television, I am struck not by what unfolds, but by what refuses to move—whether in Yeh Rishta Kya Kehlata Hai or the broader programming landscape.

The illusion is carefully crafted. Episodes promise revelation, emotional upheaval, dramatic turning points. Yet, nothing truly progresses. A truth is about to be revealed—someone pauses. A confrontation is imminent—it dissolves into spectacle. A narrative arc gathers momentum—only to collapse into song, ritual, or repetitive conflict, as seen repeatedly in Yeh Rishta Kya Kehlata Hai.

This is not storytelling. This is suspension.

Viewership Is Declining—The Data Confirms It

The Broadcast Audience Research Council (BARC) India’s data (2024–2025 trends) shows a steady erosion in television viewership, particularly in the Hindi General Entertainment Channel (GEC) space. Overall TV impressions in India have declined by approximately 8–10% year-on-year. Urban viewership has seen sharper drops, especially among 15–40 age groups, who are migrating to digital platforms. Even top-performing shows today deliver TVR ratings between 1.8–2.5, compared to 5+ ratings in the early 2000s. Prime time reach remains high due to habit viewing (especially among older audiences), but time spent per viewer has decreased significantly.

The numbers tell a story the industry refuses to acknowledge: audiences haven’t abandoned television entirely—they are disengaging from its content, even when watching shows like Todke Dil Mera or Advocate Anjali Awasthi. 

The Problem of Narrative Paralysis

What we are witnessing is not merely creative fatigue—it is systemic narrative paralysis. Take the current programming strategy: the “Ravivaar hook.” The week is stretched thin with filler, withholding key developments to manufacture anticipation for Sunday episodes. But when Sunday arrives, resolution is once again deferred. 

Characters hover in emotional limbo. They become inexplicably mute at crucial moments. Conflicts loop endlessly. The story neither advances nor transforms.

This is not accidental. It is structural. Writers are no longer allowed to spend story or is it that there is no story they have left to spend? However, they are instructed to stretch it. 

To compensate for this stagnation, television has leaned heavily into spectacle—song sequences, celebrations, exaggerated confrontations.

But spectacle here is not an artistic choice; it is a sedative. It numbs the viewer into passive consumption. It fills time where narrative should exist. It distracts from the absence of progression.

And perhaps most troublingly, it reinforces regressive tropes—particularly the persistent portrayal of women as adversaries within domestic spaces. Kitchen politics continues to dominate, as though society itself has not evolved—something Todke Dil Mera consciously resists.

There are exceptions. Occasionally, a show attempts realism, steps outside the studio, engages with lived experience—as Todke Dil Mera does, or even in heightened form through Advocate Anjali Awasthi. These moments stand out precisely because they are so rare.

Then and Now: A Stark Contrast  

Having been both a viewer in the early 1980s and a creator from the mid-1980s onward, I have witnessed Indian television at its most vital. Shows like Hum Log, Buniyaad, Saans, Tara, Campus and Banegi Apni Baat understood one fundamental principle: stories must move.

Narratives evolved. Conflicts resolved. Characters grew. New arcs emerged organically. Even long-running series did not fear closure—they embraced renewal. Importantly, these shows were not confined to a single space. They breathed. They travelled. They reflected the complexity of real lives.

Today’s television, by contrast, is spatially and creatively restricted—often limited to interchangeable indoor sets that flatten both narrative and performance.

Global Television Has Moved On  

While Indian television remains trapped in repetition, global television has undergone a seismic shift. Contemporary Western series—from Succession and The Crown to Breaking Bad and The Last of Us—are defined by: Finite, tightly structured storytelling, High narrative stakes and character evolution, Expansive worlds that move beyond confined settings, A willingness to end stories rather than prolong them.

Even network television in the West has adapted, embracing shorter seasons and sharper writing. The idea of stretching a single conflict across hundreds of episodes is now obsolete. But in India, that obsolescence persists as standard practice.

The Economics of Stagnation

Why does this continue despite declining viewership? The answer lies in the economics of the ecosystem. Channels, producers, and studio infrastructures are deeply interlinked. The daily soap model—shot largely within controlled studio environments—is cost-efficient, predictable, and scalable.

Innovation, on the other hand, is risky.

Breaking away from this model would require rethinking production pipelines, investing in writing, and accepting shorter formats with definitive arcs. It would mean disrupting a system that, while creatively bankrupt, is financially stable. So the industry chooses safety over evolution.

There is a convenient narrative that blames digital platforms, social media, or shrinking attention spans for television’s decline. This is untrue. Audiences have not lost interest in storytelling. They have lost interest in lazy storytelling.

Given compelling narratives, viewers still engage deeply—whether on streaming platforms, in cinemas, or even on television when something truly works, as intermittently seen in Advocate Anjali Awasthi. The failure is not technological. It is creative.

A Dead Horse Still Being Flogged  

What remains today is a system going through the motions—producing hours of content that fill schedules but rarely fulfil audiences. We are not experimenting. We are not evolving. We are not even responding to clear evidence of decline.

We are, quite simply, flogging a dead horse.

And as long as spectacle continues to mask stagnation, and economics continues to override imagination, Indian television will remain trapped in its own inertia—slowly losing the very audience it once held captive.

The tragedy is not that television is dying. The tragedy is that it refuses to live.

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