Interviews

I’ve heard my name tops their boycott lists: Priyanka Bharti

The RJD spokeswoman's vigour, wit, self-assurance, and assertiveness have begun to rattle the BJP and its courtier media

The smiling firebrand Priyanka Bharti
The smiling firebrand Priyanka Bharti Vipin/NH

In Bihar, the prime minister’s mother was suddenly a red-hot political issue. The BJP was making much of the stray insults hurled at her from a rally stage. But “what the BJP-controlled TV channels are doing to Bihar’s daughters is no less insulting”, says RJD (Rashtriya Janata Dal) spokeswoman Priyanka Bharti. It’s a kind of “modern-day untouchability”, she says.

Even so, this young, feisty woman has been pushing back. With vigour, wit, enviable presence of mind — and a disarming smile. Her self-assurance, her assertiveness has begun to rattle the BJP, so much so that the party is exerting its influence with courtier media outlets to keep her off panels in prime-time debates. Nandlal Sharma spoke to Priyanka Bharti about her remarkable personal journey and her meteoric rise to national media prominence. Excerpts:

Tell us about your early life and background. Where did your journey begin, and what role did your parents — especially your mother — play in it?

I come from a small village near Fatuha constituency in Bihar. Ours was a very ordinary family. My mother studied only till Class 4, because the family couldn’t afford more. She was mostly engaged in farming and housework. My father studied till Class 12. He started out driving a tempo, then picked up other skills, and later began doing local work related to land receipts.

Despite financial hardship, my father never let our education suffer. Relatives often suggested sending us to government schools since money was short. But my father insisted on a good education, even if it meant taking loans. He was determined that his daughter must get quality education. English education.

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My early schooling was local. In 2016, I sat for entrance exams at IIT, JNU and Delhi University — and cleared all three. I wasn’t keen on IIT, and my heart was in literature. The fee at JNU was an astonishing Rs 180! I also got a ‘merit-cum-means’ scholarship of Rs 2,000 a month, which covered my studies. At the same time, since I had an interest in German, I started tutoring school students, which brought in extra income.

In this journey, what role did social and political movements, especially the RJD and the ideology of social justice, play?

JNU was the turning point. It was here that I really came to understand the meaning of social justice, reservations and affirmative action. Thanks to the Mandal Commission, whose recommendations were implemented in 2007, universities had reservations in place, which enabled me to enter JNU. Later, though, I got into my PhD under the general category.

I believe leaders like Lalu Prasad Yadav, Mulayam Singh Yadav, Ram Vilas Paswan, Mayawati and B.P. Mandal did crucial work in bringing marginalised communities into the mainstream. But the journey was never easy. At JNU protests, people like me from marginalised backgrounds were rarely allowed to speak. The Left would push us to the back rows, our posters got sidelined, and our voices were drowned out. Still, I always spoke up. At first it made me angry, but now I face these challenges with a smile.

How did you become an RJD spokesperson, and what challenges did you face in the media spotlight?

One day, out of the blue, I got a call saying I’d been appointed RJD spokesperson. I had no clue. Tejashwiji has always supported me — he even praised one of my posts on Facebook, back when I held no formal post. It was only when people started congratulating me that I realised I’d been named a party spokesperson.

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When I stepped into the media circus, I was subjected to a lot of gratuitous advice/ remarks on why I didn’t use makeup, foundation etc. I made it clear: this is who I am; I don’t need makeup to shine. Personality comes from ideas.

What’s been your toughest experience as a spokesperson?

The worst was when a professor used the slur “two-penny people”. That insult wasn’t just for me — it was an insult to my family and community. It exposed a feudal, casteist mindset. I let him know immediately, in no uncertain terms, that I wouldn’t stand for such language. I’m proud I confronted him. But it was painful — it felt like an attack on my parents and my lineage. I will never stop speaking out against that mindset.

Is there any channel that treats women spokespersons — ruling or Opposition — with respect?

After this incident, my trust in TV channels crashed. Some anchors talk sweetly in one debate, but in the next, they’re back to the same old tricks. Overall, no channel is truly impartial.

Have you noticed any difference in how male and female anchors behave?

Yes. Female anchors often interrupt more, try harder to dominate, and sometimes cross lines of dignity. Male anchors show some respect and interrupt less. I feel women spokespersons should engage more with women anchors — because we can give as good as we get. Male spokespersons often hold back; they hesitate to use sharp words with women.

Maybe women anchors behave this way because they feel the need to constantly prove their loyalty.

You once tore up a copy of the Manusmriti on stage, which created a controversy. How did women anchors react afterwards? And what’s your take on Rahul Gandhi’s call for 90 per cent representation and diversity in the media?

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After that incident, as I came off stage, a woman anchor asked me: “What were you even saying? Who reads Manusmriti?” I said: “I’ve read it. I don’t criticise without reading. I’ve read the whole book.” But she shot back: “I felt like slapping you.” I was furious, but I just said: “Just know that whatever you give us, we’ll return… with compound interest.”

Don’t you think debates would be very different if the media had genuine diversity and representation?

Exactly! If someone like Suman Bharti or Suman Paswan were anchoring, they’d understand the pain, the sting of untouchability, the wounds of caste slurs. If I sat across from them, they’d relate to what I was saying. At the very least, they wouldn’t rubbish caste discrimination or dismiss it as political theatre. We wouldn’t be subjected to that language if a Suman Ram were in the anchor’s chair.

Given the BJP’s stranglehold on mainstream media, does it even matter to appear on those channels? How do you see independent platforms?

It’s hard to make your point on mainstream TV — you barely get 5–10 seconds before they cut you off. But surveys before the 2024 Lok Sabha polls showed that over 30 per cent of people vote on the basis of what they see/hear on TV. So we can’t vacate that space. Yes, independent platforms allow us to speak more freely, but we need to be everywhere.

In Bihar, there’s a perception that women voters back Nitish Kumar, prioritising issues like prohibition.

The women of Bihar know the score. Everywhere you’ll see women going after ministers, voicing their protests. The people themselves have taken up the role of the Opposition and are routinely hitting the streets. I get messages from people saying their wives, who never cared for politics earlier, feel energised listening to me. That means women are interested. Which I see as a victory. I believe Bihar will see change this time.

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The chief minister has announced a self-employment grant of Rs 10,000 for women. Will that sway female voters?

Look, women can take what they get — and still do what they know is right. Bihar’s women are sharp.

Give me a few reasons why you are hopeful about this Assembly election.

First, in 2020, we fell just 12,000 votes short. We lost many seats by a few hundred votes. This time we’re more organised. We know the Election Commission can be biased, so we’re armed with facts and are more vigilant.

Second, the 17 months Tejashwiji was in power were crucial. He created five lakh government jobs, inspected hospitals, launched tourism and sports policies, and suspended 600–700 doctors who were running private clinics while holding down government jobs. If so much can happen in such a short time, Bihar can be transformed in five years.

Third, we signed MoUs worth Rs 50,000 crore — unprecedented for Bihar. We have a vision — whether it’s maize, makhana or bananas. Kerala’s banana chips sell in international markets, but nobody even hears of Bihar’s bananas. We want to strengthen the economy of Bihar.

You’re now a regular on TV debates. Have the TV channels mended their ways?

(Laughs) I’ve heard my name was on top of the boycott list of some channels. Some anchors have refused flat out to feature me on their debates. But now they’re on the back-foot, I hear, because people know that mainstream media dances to the BJP’s tune.

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