Shivani Ray | 24th August 2025
In today’s restless digital India, artists are often born into the harsh glare of public judgment. The internet promises reach, but it also exposes creators to trolling, stereotypes, and scrutiny that can break even the strongest of voices. Yet, again and again, we see individuals rise above this mockery—turning ridicule into recognition, and skepticism into celebration.
The stories of Kusha Kapila, Zakir Khan, and Nayab Midha are not just success stories; they are case studies in resilience. They remind us that in a country where millions log in daily to consume art, only those who persist through storms of criticism can reshape how we define creativity.
Kusha Kapila: Why We Finally Took Her Seriously?
When Kusha Kapila first appeared on our screens, she was an easy target. Her “South Delhi auntie” sketches were written off as shallow mimicry. Critics mocked her looks, her voice, even her personal life. But here is the question: why do we dismiss women who dare to laugh at social stereotypes before we acknowledge the sharpness in their satire?
Kusha’s answer was not retreat—it was relentless creation. She built range, collaborated with brands, and stepped into films and shows. Today, the same internet that once mocked her now celebrates her. Her arc forces us to ask: do we only respect women artists once they prove they can outlast our prejudice?
Zakir Khan: Comedy in a Language the Elite Ignored
When Zakir Khan burst onto the comedy scene, he broke the unspoken rule: “Indian comedians must sound global.” He did not. He spoke in Hindi and Urdu, with a simplicity that some sneered at as “too desi.” But in doing so, he cracked open a door that had been shut for too long—the door to middle-class India’s stories.
His “Sakht Launda” may have started as a punchline, but it became a cultural mirror. Beneath the humor lay lessons in self-respect, heartbreak, and identity. Zakir’s rise reminds us that representation matters. That art in our own languages is not inferior—it is powerful, moving, and universal.
So, the real question is: why did it take so long for us to recognize what millions already knew? That Zakir Khan was never “too simple.” He was authentic—and authenticity is the sharpest weapon an artist can wield.
Nayab Midha: Poetry in the Age of Reels
Who believes in poetry in an algorithm-driven world of reels and memes? Not many, at least at first. When Nayab Midha began to share her work, she was met with skepticism. “Poetry is dead,” some scoffed. “Who has time for rhymes?”
But Nayab did not bend. She wrote of identity, gender, love, and vulnerability—subjects too raw to ignore. And slowly, audiences began not just to listen, but to feel. In her live performances, poetry became less about rhyme and more about resonance.
Her persistence is a rebuke to cynics: if art comes from truth, it does not fade. Nayab has proven that poetry in digital India is not a relic; it is a revival.
The Opinion We Must Confront
The journeys of these three artists point to an uncomfortable truth: our first instinct as audiences is to mock what we do not understand. We laugh at accents before we listen to meaning. We dismiss simplicity before recognizing its depth. We ridicule poetry before letting it heal us.
But if we are honest, their rise is not just their triumph—it is our transformation as well. Over time, we learned to see satire where we once saw silliness, representation where we once saw mediocrity, and timeless art where we once saw irrelevance.
Consistency as Advocacy
In the end, what unites Kusha Kapila, Zakir Khan, and Nayab Midha is not just talent, but defiance. They defied the mockery, the labels, and the easy dismissals. They kept showing up until we had no choice but to listen.
That is the real lesson of digital India: consistency itself is advocacy. By refusing to disappear, these artists advocate for diversity, authenticity, and resilience in a world too quick to judge.
So the next time we encounter an unfamiliar voice online, perhaps we should ask ourselves—are we witnessing the beginning of another story of mockery-to-meaning? Or will we, for once, choose to celebrate before we condemn?
Shivani Ray is a writer and cultural commentator who explores the intersections of art, society, and digital transformation. Her work highlights stories of resilience and creativity in modern India.
