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Are we headed for a sports broadcasting ‘Duopoly’ in India?
As a nation, India has evolved significantly in sports broadcasting. With unbounded technological progress nipping away at our heels, a digital evolution was a long time coming, especially in the Indian subcontinent. The sporting world has all its eyes on the recent SPN̶̶-ZEEL deal, an acquisition that will leverage, consolidate and crucially enhance the relationship between right-holder, broadcaster and the fan. Truly, India has launched itself to transforming into a sporting nation to reckon with.
Content and consolidation will drive and scale up distribution and reach for both – network(s) within India and the subcontinent.
This acquisition is a major win and a penetration peak for SPN. It can now break into hitherto untapped territories and consolidate content from a far-‘reaching’ perspective. The world is in a frenzied state of “digital data drive” and this drive is only going to escalate. Our broadcasting output is changing every day. Last two decades has seen Single TV households changing their viewing environs from terrestrial TV to cable and satellite. The big daddies of the DTH universe are all moving towards consolidating the reality of second and third screen-driven ecosystems.
Taking stock of things, Star India has the telecast rights of BCCI, ICC, Cricket Australia, English Cricket Board, Formula 1, EPL and tennis Grand Slams like Wimbledon and the French Open. In addition to this, Star has significant rights to the local sports leagues like ISL, PKL, PBL, HIL and IPTL.
SPN, on the other hand, proudly holds the rights to FIFA, UEFA, Euro, NBA and UFC on the international circuit. Through this landmark deal with TEN Sports, SPN now has an open-door all-access pass to the media rights of numerous golfing events as well as the rights to the cricket boards of African countries, Sri Lanka, West Indies and Pakistan. In the tennis world, they own the first and the last Grand Slams of the year – Australian Open and the US open, respectively. However, in India, IPL remains their biggest marquee acquisition despite being up for renewal post the 2017 season.
The sports broadcast gladiatorial arena thus will soon witness a veritable battle between these two. With two key players running neck and neck towards the finish line, it’s a race that changes the environment and brings about a scale-up in distribution and revenue.
The network that makes itself more accessible, more consumable and creates, builds and sustains real-time conversations while enhancing fan experience will emerge as the monarch in a currently duopolistic condition. The focus on Digital India, the technological and revenue-right prowess of the two key network players should reveal some of the answers in the times to come. Data will play a pivotal role in making sports content more consumable and build real-time conversations around enhancing fan experience and build higher level stickiness and relevance.
This phenomenon is aptly called ‘Datagiri’ – big data is the big dada, and it will outpace the traditional broadcast model soon enough. With live sports streaming and on-the-spot digital consumption through various media platforms such as Hotstar and Sony Liv may look to rise to the top with the Usain Bolt speed, a certain aggression and a prepared relevantly stronger digital interface.
The digital ecosystem experiences an amplification of connections at an exponential rate. Every day, there is a new surge in distribution and a revamping of the “traditional” model since consumers are establishing newer ways and means of connecting with their favorite sports. After all, the name of the game is “enhanced fan experience”. The Rio Olympics displayed this very digital omnipresence – it was up to the fans to consume sports data, whenever, however, and in whichever way suited them best. The power was at the consumer’s fingertips.
Some questions though surface strongly — Will data-driven content-providers compete with the traditional broadcast platforms? Will telecom players drive and build the next billion sports consumers? Will the definition of the 1st screen economy change? These are just some of the questions that will be answered in times to come.
In summary, it promises an exciting time for the Sports Fan. The sports fan will share its limelight with no one; he or she will be at the centrestage of the best sporting live action. It will be served on a platter for his or her gluttonous consumption – peppered with analytic appetisers and tantalizing trivia, thus cinching a momentous union between networks, right-holders and sports fans.
(The author is the business head of ESP Properties. The views expressed are entirely his own and Indiantelevision.com does not subscribe to them)
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.
