Indian television has witnessed countless heated exchanges, but the events of November 16, 2025, on News18 India’s Panchayat stand apart. A routine post-election analysis of Bihar’s assembly results spiraled into a chaotic display of denial, personal attacks, and shattered decorum—one that now dominates conversations across homes, social media, and political circles in India and beyond.
Bihar’s Decisive Mandate
The Election Commission delivered a verdict that left little room for interpretation. The NDA alliance secured 202 out of 243 seats—with the BJP claiming 89, JD(U) 85, and allies sweeping the rest. The opposition Mahagathbandhan was reduced to 35 seats, with the RJD holding just 25. Tejashwi Yadav’s promise of 15 lakh jobs, once a central campaign plank, now lies in ruins.
Bihar had spoken clearly. It rejected dynastic politics, caste-based fearmongering, and the specter of instability.
The Panel: Tension in the Air
Rubika Liyaquat, one of India’s most respected prime-time anchors, assembled a high-voltage panel to unpack the results:
- Subhrastha Chatterjee, the independent journalist renowned for her data-driven arguments
- Satish Singh, representing the BJP
- Priyanka Bharti, the RJD’s national spokesperson
- Another panelist aligned with the RJD
The setup promised a robust debate. What unfolded was far from it.
From Denial to Defiance
Priyanka Bharti opened aggressively, dismissing the election as “a pre-programmed fraud”. She alleged—without evidence—that electronic voting machines had been manipulated using secret algorithms. When Rubika calmly asked for proof, Bharti shouted:
“Sab jaante hain! Aap bhi jaanti hain!” (Everyone knows! You know it too!)
Subhrastha responded with facts—internal surveys showing declining support in RJD strongholds, voter turnout trends, and the NDA’s superior ground strategy. She spoke with clarity and evidence.
Bharti interrupted:
The Moment That Went Viral
That’s when Subhrastha delivered the line that captured the nation’s frustration.
“Arre, yeh dono mahila goonde hain!” (These two women are goons!)
She pointed directly at Priyanka Bharti and her colleague.
“Yeh debate nahi kar rahi—dhamki de rahi hain! Sadakchhap bhasha studio mein laa rahi hain!” (They’re not debating—they’re threatening! Bringing street-thug language into the studio!)
The studio descended into chaos.
Bharti lunged forward, tearing a sheet of paper in half and waving it aggressively. She mocked Subhrastha’s Bengali accent, questioned her “so-called neutrality,” and threw in a sarcastic reference to “Bhagwan ji”—a cheap shot at cultural sentiments wrapped in political bitterness.
Then she turned on Rubika:
“Tum jaise log desh ko barbaad kar rahe ho!” (People like you are destroying the country!)
Using the disrespectful “tum”—a deliberate insult on live television.
Rubika, composed and firm, replied:
“This is a debate, not a fish market.”
Bharti fired back:
“Jab EVM chori hoti hai, tab etiquette kahan tha?” (Where was etiquette when EVMs were stolen?)
The Silent Scream That Spoke Volumes
Producers cut to a commercial break. When the show returned, Bharti’s microphone was muted. She continued shouting—face flushed, hands flailing—in complete silence.
The image was surreal. And it became an instant meme.
Within minutes, clips flooded X, YouTube, and WhatsApp. Hashtags like #GoonsInStudio and #JungleRajReturns trended nationwide. One widely shared post read:
“RJD lost 218 seats. But Priyanka Bharti lost her composure, credibility, and any hope of public sympathy in 12 minutes.”
Why Subhrastha’s Words Resonated
Subhrastha didn’t just react—she diagnosed.
She saw through the performance. Bharti wasn’t defending a lost election. She was acting out defeat as defiance. The shouting, the paper-ripping, the personal attacks—it wasn’t strategy. It was desperation in disguise.
And Subhrastha named it: goondagardi.
This wasn’t Bharti’s first outburst. Viewers recalled her earlier appearances—dismissing exit polls as “bookies’ games,” storming off sets, and accusing anchors of bias mid-sentence. But never before had she unleashed such raw hostility on a platform this prominent.
Subhrastha became the voice of every viewer tired of watching debates turn into brawls.
The Aftermath: Silence, Shame, and Consequences
By morning, the fallout was swift:
- Multiple news channels reportedly blacklisted Priyanka Bharti
- #FirePriyankaBharti trended across Bihar
- Tejashwi Yadav remained silent—a telling absence
- RJD veterans were reportedly furious, with one insider saying: “She reminded voters why we lost.”
Meanwhile, clips of Subhrastha’s takedown were shared over 3 million times. Her line “Jungleraaj ki yaad dilate hain” became a rallying cry for those demanding better discourse.
Even opposition-leaning commentators distanced themselves:
“We need warriors, not wound-collectors. This wasn’t resistance—it was regression.”
A Symptom of a Larger Crisis
This wasn’t just about one spokesperson losing control. It was a mirror to Indian television’s deeper decay.
Debates were once battlegrounds of ideas—where data clashed with ideology, where rebuttals were sharp but civil. Now, they’ve become shouting arenas. Channels chase ratings through confrontation. Parties field aggressive voices because outrage gets airtime.
But when abuse replaces argument:https://theinfohatch.com/girija-oak-viral-photo-ai-morphed-deepfakes-2025/
- Viewers tune out
- Trust in media erodes
- Real issues—jobs, education, healthcare—get buried under personal insults
Subhrastha reminded us what journalism should be: fearless, factual, and dignified.
Rubika Liyaquat, too, emerged stronger—her composure under fire earned admiration across political lines.
The Path Forward
Bihar voted for governance over goondagardi.
If the RJD wants a future, it must field credible, respectful voices—spokespeople who engage with facts, not fury.
And if Indian television debates are to survive, channels must enforce basic civility—or risk becoming irrelevant.
As one X user perfectly summed it up:https://nepalnews.com/
“Subhrastha didn’t just call them goons. She called time on the nonsense.”
The mic drop was hers.