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Ambivalent ministry; verbose minister
Circa: 2004. Characteristic of his verbosity, information and broadcasting minister Jaipal Reddy had mentioned in Parliament that he’s “dusting” the Broadcast Bill that he had tabled in the House in 1997 to guide his ministry in bringing about a Bill on a regulatory framework afresh.
Cut to the present times. The dusting seems to be still happening as — one industry player pointed out — too much of dust, probably, has settled on the files and the old proposed regulatory framework.
In one year’s time the ministry, captained by Reddy, has put up an average performance, especially when it was thought that because of his past experience in the ministry, things would move at a fast pace. Just to give an example, except giving uplink permission to some TV channels, no substantial policy decision has been taken by the I&B ministry in one year’s time.
Rather, as a TV company said, things have been complicated further because of not only inaction, but lack of understanding of the media sector by the bureaucrats in the ministry. And Reddy, hemmed in by political compulsions too, has been unable to provide the sort of leadership that the sector would have desired.
For instance, a set of recommendations on radio broadcast policy that had been submitted to the ministry in August by sector regulator is still going around various ministries for feedback, which still keeps it at distance from the clearance post. “Unless the recommendations, in whatever form, are taken to the Cabinet, how can the I&B ministry expect them to be cleared or rejected ?” a private radio FM station manager retorted, giving vent to his frustration.
What’s more, the lackadaisical way Reddy and his ministry handled the publication of International Herald Tribune from India by an Indian company and the furore it generated last year speaks volumes of the attitude. Not only the ministry refused to issue an official ultimatum to the publishers of IHT in the initial phase, but also kept feeding the media informally, which carried less weight.
Of course, what acted as an impediment was the fact that the Indian publishers of IHT were breaking no law or rule. Simply because the guidelines had not been notified by the previous government that took away the biting power.
The off-the-record briefing of the media by Reddy on important issues took a hilarious turn, when some months back a seemingly insignificant matter like minor iscrepancies in a series of CDs brought out by the government on the works of Father of the Nation made the minister scurry to call an official conference. Next day the item as a short item.
WORK LEFT UNDONE…
A year is too little time for the I&B ministry to take a decision on…
…DTH applications pending with it. Prominent amongst the four are that of Space TV (a JV between the Tatas and Star) and Sun TV.
…radio broadcast policy, which is turning the private FM radio companies red as their bottomlines have plunged, while hampering additional inflow of revenue in the government kitty in the form of licence fee and/or revenue sharing.
…an overall regulatory framework for the broadcast and cable sector despite the `dusting’ of old files that had been promised.
…sector regulator’s recommendations on introducing addressability in the Indian cable homes to take the industry forward into a digital era.
Suggestions received by the ministry in October.
…to carry forward work on bilateral treaties with other countries, started by the previous government, to boost the film industry’s prospects and also attract FDI in the form of making India a favourite destination for foreign film-makers.
…to even formulate a consensus on whether foreign newspapers should be allowed to print from India despite IHT doing so.
… Whether Indian pubcaster should be financially supported to make forays abroad on pay platforms, especially in the UK and the US.
…formulate service rules for employees of Prasar Bharati, an autonomous organization that manages DD and All India Radio, which has resulted in the organisation bloating further as inefficiency has increased.
… for anything substantial other than holding lengthy briefings on Tsunami disaster management, just because the I&B secretary headed the secretaries panel overseeing relief work.
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GUEST COLUMN: The year OTT grew up and micro-drama took over India’s screens
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.






