Uththan

Trigger Warning / Disclaimer

This story is a lighthearted exploration of curiosity, learning, and unexpected encounters. It contains references to global media and geopolitics in an academic context. No sensitive or distressing content is present. 

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The Delhi Metro buzzed with its usual chaos—office-goers scrolling through their phones, students buried in books, and an auntie haggling over vegetables on a WhatsApp call loud enough for the entire compartment to hear.

Amidst it all, Tanya and Aditi, both undergraduate students in Journalism and Mass Communication, had claimed a small corner near the doors. Their books, notes, and highlighters were spread out between them, much to the annoyance of passing commuters.

“I swear, if they ask about media imperialism, I’m just going to write colonization, but with WiFi and hope for the best,” Tanya muttered, flipping through her notes.

Aditi snorted. “That is both accurate and deeply concerning. But can we talk about how I’ve read this paragraph on soft power five times and still don’t get it? How is it supposed to be different from propaganda?”

That’s when a deep voice cut through the metro’s hum.

“Soft power isn’t about deception. It’s about influence. Think Bollywood in Pakistan, K-Pop in India, or how Hollywood movies dictate global beauty standards.”

Both girls looked up, startled.

A man stood near them, tall and composed despite the metro’s jerky movement. He wore a crisp button-up, dark jeans, and carried a worn leather satchel—something about him screamed journalist who’s seen too much. His salt-and-pepper hair suggested experience, but his sharp gaze carried a certain youthful intensity.

Tanya and Aditi exchanged wide-eyed glances. Who was this guy?

The metro lurched forward, making Tanya stumble slightly as she grabbed the overhead rail for support. The man, however, remained steady—like someone used to moving through unpredictable spaces.

“You’re cramming theories without real-world applications. Let’s fix that,” he said, crouching down beside them as if this were just another lecture hall.

Aditi raised a skeptical eyebrow. “And you’re just going to drop wisdom on us—for free?”

The man smirked. “Consider it my good deed for the day.”

Tanya exchanged a glance with Aditi before shrugging. “Alright, if you insist.” She tapped her pen against her notebook. “Let’s play a game. You name a media theory, and I’ll tell you where I’ve seen it in action.”

Aditi leaned forward, intrigued. “Okay, let’s start with the big one—Media Imperialism.”

The man’s expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes sharpened.

“Africa, early 2000s,” he said, his voice smooth but measured. “Almost 80% of their international news came from Western agencies. African narratives, told through a Western lens. Decisions about their own resources, their own politics, their own crises—framed by voices sitting in London, New York, or Paris. That’s media imperialism.”

Tanya let out a low whistle. “Damn. That’s straight out of our textbook—but better.”

Aditi, now invested, flipped through her notes. “Alright, what about Agenda-Setting Theory?”

The man’s lips curled into a knowing smile. “Ever noticed how the same news story can dominate every channel, every website, every social media platform—while a crisis in another part of the world barely gets a footnote?”

Aditi nodded. “Like how some wars get 24/7 coverage, but others are barely mentioned?”

“Exactly,” the man said. “The media doesn’t tell you what to think, but it does tell you what to think about. That’s agenda-setting.”

Tanya snapped her fingers. “Okay, I’ve got one—Information Warfare.”

The man’s expression darkened slightly, as if he’d seen things he’d rather forget.

“Russia-Ukraine conflict,” he said simply. “Social media weaponized, fake news on both sides, selective footage to control global perception. One minute you think you know the truth, the next—” he snapped his fingers, “—it’s been rewritten.”

Aditi scribbled furiously. “This is insane. You should have your own podcast.”

The man chuckled. “I prefer real conversations.”

Tanya shook her head in disbelief. “You talk like you’ve lived inside the news cycle.”

The man leaned back against the pole, his expression unreadable. “Maybe I have.”

The metro rumbled on, but Tanya and Aditi were no longer aware of the world around them. They were caught in a conversation that felt bigger than an exam—bigger than the classroom itself.

And for just one moment in this overcrowded metro, global media didn’t just feel like something to memorize. It felt real.

“Global media isn’t neutral,” he continued. “Every news agency has its own bias, whether political, cultural, or economic. The question isn’t just what they’re showing—but why and who benefits from that narrative.”

Aditi scribbled notes furiously. “This is insane. You should have your own podcast.”

The man smirked. “I prefer real conversations.”

The metro slowed as it neared Rajiv Chowk, the station where dreams and patience went to die. The crowd outside was already pressing against the doors, ready to flood in like a tidal wave.

The man stood up, adjusting his satchel strap. “Well, this is my stop.”

Tanya and Aditi scrambled to their feet. “Wait—who are you?”

The man hesitated for just a second, then smiled. “Just someone who enjoys a good conversation.”

And with that, he stepped off, disappearing into the sea of commuters.

The doors slid shut, and it took a full ten seconds for the girls to process what had just happened.

Aditi groaned. “Are you serious? We just had a masterclass in global media and geopolitics—from a real-life insider—IN A METRO… and we forgot to ask his name?”

Tanya facepalmed. “We’re idiots. Absolute idiots.”

They stared at each other before bursting into laughter.

“Okay, but tell me that wasn’t the coolest thing ever,” Tanya said.

Aditi grinned, flipping through her notes. “At least now, we might actually pass this exam.”

As the metro surged forward, they kept glancing at the doors, half-hoping, half-expecting to see their mystery professor again.

—

Three hours later, the exam was behind them. Tanya and Aditi sat in the campus café, nursing an ice tea and a hot black coffee and staring at their notes.

“You know,” Aditi mused, “I tried searching for guest professors in Delhi who also work in international news agencies.”

Tanya raised a brow. “And?”

“Nothing. It’s like he doesn’t exist.”

Tanya smirked. “Maybe he was just a figment of our exhausted, caffeine-fueled imagination.”

Aditi scoffed. “Oh sure. A hallucination who gave us better case studies than our own textbooks? Please.”

A pause.

Tanya tapped her fingers against her cup. “You ever feel like some people walk into your life just to shake things up… and then vanish?”

Aditi exhaled. “Yeah. But damn it, I still wish we’d gotten his name.”

They both fell silent for a moment before Aditi chuckled.

“Hey, what if he was a journalist on a secret mission? Maybe he’s out there, uncovering the next political scandal.”

Tanya grinned. “Or maybe he’s just enjoying another metro ride—waiting to drop knowledge bombs on unsuspecting students.”

They laughed, but deep down, both of them knew—this wasn’t a conversation they’d forget anytime soon.

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The End