Singer and performer Sona Mohapatra has offered a powerful first-person reflection on online shaming, cancel culture, and the erosion of nuance in public discourse, after enduring a month of intense trolling during one of the most demanding phases of her career.

In a deeply personal account, Mohapatra revealed that she faced sustained mockery and public criticism in the middle of an eight-concert run—live, unscripted, and high-pressure performances. Despite the emotional toll, she said she delivered every concert with conviction and joy, underscoring that confidence built over decades cannot be dismantled by a moment engineered for virality.

However, she acknowledged that not everyone has the emotional or professional privilege to withstand such attacks unscathed.

The controversy began with a short, clipped video shared by an Instagram handle claiming to be a Hindustani music academy. The clip was taken from her appearance on The Lallantop, where Mohapatra was discussing the deep relationship between Indian classical music and popular culture.

During the conversation, she spoke about the emotional sophistication of Indian ragas, explaining how the tension of the two ma’s in Raga Yaman Kalyan creates a powerful emotional pull, and why songs like “Aaj Jaane Ki Zid Na Karo” continue to resonate across generations. She highlighted how Indian music uniquely allows classical and popular forms to constantly inform each other—unlike many Western traditions where genres remain rigidly separate.

According to Mohapatra, the moment could have been used to educate, celebrate cultural depth, and reinforce the very purpose of a music academy. Instead, a single clipped moment—focused on an alleged “wrong” rendering of ma while she was explaining a broader musical idea—was amplified for ridicule. The result was lakhs of views, far exceeding the account’s usual engagement.

What followed was a familiar digital pile-on. Hundreds joined in—not to add musical insight or foster learning, but to correct, mock, and assert superiority. Mohapatra observed that public shaming often gives people a fleeting sense of power, even when it contributes nothing of value.

She stressed that the issue extends far beyond her own experience. Across fields, a single moment is increasingly used to erase years of discipline and contribution—a missed catch by a sportsperson, a verbal slip by a scientist, a stumble by a woman leader, or vulnerability shown by a public figure.

Mohapatra pointed to a well-documented psychological phenomenon—downward social comparison—where individuals boost their own self-worth by highlighting others’ perceived mistakes, without engaging in self-growth.

Her central question is unsettling: Is this obsession with fault-finding enabling mediocrity?

She argued that progressive societies debate ideas rather than humiliating individuals, critique systems instead of tearing down effort, and recognise mastery as a lifelong process—not a viral clip. In contrast, a culture addicted to “gotcha” moments discourages risk-taking. Artists begin to play safe, thinkers self-censor, and excellence gives way to conformity.

Looking ahead to 2026, Mohapatra expressed hope for a cultural reset—one rooted in generosity before correction, context before judgment, and courage over cheap dominance. She emphasised that Indian music, much like Indian civilisation itself, has always thrived on nuance, contradiction, and emotional depth.

It deserves listeners willing to grow with it, she said, not crowds that reduce it.

Her closing note was aspirational: more listening, more empathy, more pride without cruelty—and above all, more music that reconnects us with our shared humanity.