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Govt role: CAS’ fate linked to political compulsions
The Indian government (read the information and broadcasting ministry) is suddenly finding itself caught between the devil and the deep blue sea, which more often than not takes great pleasure in turning red.
Sandwiched between a strident judiciary — justifiably so in the present circumstances — and the politics of running a coalition government with vocal allies (who seem to have a view on anything and everything), the Manmohan Singh regime is bound to find it difficult to implement a recent Delhi High Court order that in short says: implement conditional access system in the areas notified earlier by a previous Bharatiya Janata Party-led coalition regime over 18 months ago.
State-level elections in April-May would compel the government to give a deep thought to the so-called concerns of regional politicians. And, decision-making gets that much tougher when one of the states going to the polls, West Bengal, is ruled by a Left party, which is also a crucial ally of the federal government in New Delhi.
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The I&B ministry hasn’t yet held any talks with the various state governments where CAS is sought to be implemented. Nor have any meetings been held with industry stakeholders |
Though the Delhi High Court order exhorts the I&B ministry to rise above regional level party politics and not use ‘public interest’ to influence an executive order (the notification related to CAS rollout) passed by the federal government, reticent politicians would definitely try to have their own way. Don’t forget that the I&B minister Priya Ranjan Dasmunsi’s parliamentary constituency lies in West Bengal and the street-smart politician has cut much of his political teeth in Bengal.
With Kolkata in West Bengal, one of the metros targeted for CAS rollout, already swinging to the election tune, the I&B ministry would have to see how New Delhi’s Left-oriented allies react to the issue of CAS or ‘watching TV channels via a black box that would cost around Rs 3,000 (approximately $ 67),’ as some politicians are explaining addressability to the people.
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It can just be that the ministry goes in for an appeal one day ahead of the month-long court-mandated deadline |
Though it hasn’t reached a crescendo, already there are murmurs amongst politicians of the Communist Party of India (Marxist), especially the local ones, on how CAS’ introduction around election time can be ‘disruptive’ and have telling effects on the electoral fortunes of the party in West Bengal.
It is pertinent to note that the I&B ministry hasn’t yet held any talks with the various state governments where CAS is sought to be implemented. Nor have any meetings been held with industry stakeholders to discuss the issue in the light of the court’s observation.
Apart from the West Bengal politicians, those representing the seven constituencies of Delhi in Parliament have already been petitioned by some cable operators on the ground that implementation of CAS might upset cable TV consumers of the National Capital Territory.
With Delhi’s aam junta (hoi polloi) totally clueless on what CAS is all about — apart from what has been fed to them by politicians and the media — scepticism is bound to run all across on something new, which is not part of the basic infrastructure that is severely lacking here and making daily life that much more worrisome.
And, the Congress-led Delhi government, trying to battle its own intra-party differences on demolition of illegal constructions all over Delhi (as directed by Delhi HC) that has left the denizens of the Capital fuming, the will to immediately implement another court order (on CAS) is definitely lacking.
It would also be interesting to see how New Delhi could read the Delhi court order, which is not as simple as is being made out by many industry stakeholders — the benefits of CAS or addressability, notwithstanding.
For the I&B ministry to plan a rollout of CAS as per the court order, it has to first revoke an executive order that suspended implementation of CAS.
Now, here is the piece de resistance: the court order is silent on the fact whether addressability should be introduced, as per the prayer of the petitioners, ONLY in the south zones of the metro cities of Kolkata, Delhi, Chennai in Tamil Nadu and Mumbai in Maharashtra or the whole of the cities.
After revoking an earlier notification, the federal government can stick to CAS’ introduction only in the south zones of the metros or interpret the court order as rollout in the whole of the cities. A clarification on the interpretation hasn’t been sought yet by the I&B ministry as there is a section that feels an appeal should be made against the present court order.
If the government goes in for an appeal, which can turn out to be time consuming, then the timing of it would also be important. It can just be that the ministry goes in for an appeal one day ahead of the month-long court-mandated deadline.
As things stand today, the government is keeping things fluid — deliberately so — to weigh all options, including the biggest challenge: political compulsions.
MUMBAI: 2025 will be remembered as the year India’s OTT industry stopped chasing scale for its own sake and began reckoning with how audiences actually consume content. Completion rates fell, patience wore thin and the limits of long-form excess became impossible to ignore. In this guest column, Pratap Jain, founder and CEO of ChanaJor, traces how micro-drama moved from the fringes to the centre of viewing behaviour, why short-form fiction emerged as a retention engine rather than a trend, and how platforms that respected time, habit and emotional payoff were the ones that truly grew up in 2025.
If there is one thing 2025 will be remembered for in the Indian OTT industry, it’s this: the industry finally stopped pretending.
Stopped pretending that bigger automatically meant better.
Stopped pretending that viewers had endless time.
Stopped pretending that scale without retention was success.
What began as a quiet reset in 2023 and a cautious correction in 2024 turned into a very visible shift in 2025. Business models matured. Content strategies tightened. And most importantly, platforms started aligning themselves with how Indians actually watch content, not how the industry wished they would.
At the centre of this shift was micro-drama—not as a trend, but as a behavioural inevitability.
When OTT finally understood the time problem
For years, long episodes were treated as a marker of seriousness. A 45–60 minute runtime was almost a badge of credibility. Shorter formats were pushed to the margins, labelled as “snack content” or “mobile-only.”
That belief quietly collapsed in 2025.
What platform data showed very clearly was not a drop in interest—but a drop in patience. Viewers weren’t rejecting stories. They were rejecting commitment.
Across platforms, the same patterns appeared:
* First-episode drop-offs on long-form shows kept increasing
* Completion rates continued to slide
* Viewers were sampling more titles but finishing fewer
At the same time, shows with episodes in the six to 10 minute range started showing the opposite behaviour: higher completion, higher repeat viewing, and stronger daily habit formation.
Micro-drama didn’t win because it was short. It won because it respected time.
Micro-Drama didn’t arrive loudly. It took over quietly.
There was no single moment when micro-drama “launched” in India. It crept in through dashboards and retention charts.
By mid-2025, it was clear that viewers were happy watching four, five, sometimes six short episodes in one sitting—even when they wouldn’t finish a single long episode. Romance, relationship drama, slice-of-life conflict, and grounded comedy worked especially well.
This wasn’t disposable content. It was compressed storytelling.
In shorter formats, there was no room for indulgence. Every episode had to move the story forward. Weak writing was punished faster. Strong writing was rewarded immediately.
Micro-drama raised the bar instead of lowering it.
Where ChanaJor naturally fit into this shift
ChanaJor didn’t pivot to micro-drama in 2025 because the market demanded it. In many ways, the platform was already built around the same viewing behaviour.
From the beginning, ChanaJor focused on short-to-mid-length fictional stories that felt close to everyday Indian life—hostels, rented flats, office romances, small-town relationships, young people figuring things out. Stories that didn’t need heavy context or cinematic scale to connect.
What worked in ChanaJor’s favour in 2025 was clarity:
* A clearly defined audience
* Tight episode lengths
* Storytelling that prioritised emotion and pace over spectacle
While several platforms rushed to copy global micro-drama formats, ChanaJor stayed rooted in familiar Indian settings and conflicts. That familiarity mattered. Viewers didn’t have to “enter” the world of the show—it already felt like theirs.
Why audiences started responding differently
One of the biggest misconceptions going into 2025 was that audiences wanted shorter content because their attention spans had reduced. That wasn’t entirely true.
What viewers actually wanted was meaningful payoff per minute.
On platforms like ChanaJor, episodes didn’t waste time setting the mood for ten minutes. Conflicts arrived early. Characters were recognisable within moments. Emotional hooks landed fast.
A typical consumption pattern looked like real life:
* One episode during a break
* Two more before sleeping
* A few the next day
This is how viewing habits are built—not through marketing spends, but through comfort and consistency.
Viewers came back not because every show was a blockbuster, but because they knew what kind of experience to expect.
2025 was also the year OTT faced business reality
The other big change in 2025 was on the business side. Subscriber growth slowed. Discounts stopped hiding churn. Customer acquisition costs rose.
Platforms were forced to ask harder questions:
* Are viewers finishing what they start?
* Are they returning without reminders?
* Is this content worth what we’re spending on it?
This is where micro-drama began outperforming expectations. A well-written short series could deliver sustained engagement without massive budgets. It didn’t peak for one weekend and disappear—it stayed alive through repeat viewing.
Platforms like ChanaJor benefited because they weren’t chasing inflated launch numbers. The focus was on consistency and retention, not noise.
Failures Became Visible Faster
2025 also exposed weaknesses brutally.
Several platforms assumed micro-drama was a shortcut—short episodes, quick shoots, instant traction. What they discovered was that bad writing fails faster in short formats than in long ones.
Viewers dropped off within minutes. Episodes were abandoned mid-way. Weak stories had nowhere to hide.
Micro-drama didn’t forgive laziness. It amplified it.
The platforms that survived were the ones that treated short storytelling with the same seriousness as long-form—sometimes more.
OTT Stopped Chasing Prestige and Started Chasing Habit
Perhaps the most important shift in 2025 wasn’t technical or creative—it was psychological.
OTT stopped trying to look like cinema. It stopped chasing validation through scale and awards alone. It began behaving like what it actually is in people’s lives: a daily companion.
Platforms like ChanaJor found their space here because that mindset was already baked in. The goal wasn’t to dominate a weekend launch. It was to quietly become part of someone’s everyday viewing routine.
That shift changed everything—from release strategies to how success was measured.
What 2025 Ultimately Taught the Industry
By the end of the year, three truths were impossible to ignore:
* Time is the most valuable thing a viewer gives you
* Retention matters more than reach
* Format must follow behaviour, not ego
Micro-drama didn’t take over because it was fashionable. It took over because it fit real life.
Looking Ahead
Micro-drama is not replacing long-form storytelling. It is redefining the baseline of engagement.
Longer shows will survive—but only when they earn their length. Short-form fiction will continue to evolve, becoming sharper, more emotionally confident, and better written.
Platforms like ChanaJor have shown that it’s possible to grow without shouting—by understanding the audience, respecting their time, and telling stories that feel real.
2025 wasn’t the year OTT became smaller. It was the year it became smarter.
Note: The views expressed in this article are solely the author’s and do not necessarily reflect our own.
