New Delhi: While she was working at PR Pundit, Shloka Tiwari had a single, all-encompassing realisation that shifted her career trajectory—brands no longer wanted to work with news publications. Influencers carry far more weight. The content was specific, the advertisements unconcealed, and the returns guaranteed.
Tiwari founded Shyft Communications three months ago, a firm that exclusively handles influencer public relations. She works in the business of crafting images for the already curated—ensuring they remain in the limelight and part of public conversation.
“I’ve always wanted to be an entrepreneur,” she said. “And I realised that creators were also asking for PR. After actors and major celebrities, they’re next in line.”
In the seven years since, influencer marketing has grown to become an indelible part of our lexicon. And the profession shows no signs of slowing down. While it continues to exist in a regulatory vacuum, the astronomical sums commanded by influencers, the industries they’ve revolutionised, and the jobs they’ve created have afforded a previously amorphous field legitimacy.
The influencer marketing sector stands to reach a whopping Rs 3,375 crore by 2026, according to a 2024 report by Ernst & Youn. A creator juggling a comfortable middle, slowly inching their way up, makes an easy one crore a year. And for brands trying desperately to be heard above the noise, they’re becoming a life vest.
Initially regarded as a side-hustle, becoming a content creator is now an aspiration. A generation fed on artfully designed Instagram feeds, the lofty promise of ‘easy money’, and a lifestyle founded on PR packages is carving out ways to do the same.
A lot of us love to be organic when we’re conceptualising and writing scripts. But brands are wary of putting that kind of money aside for content that’s not all that obvious. Through my podcast, things are a bit more under my control.
Naina Bhan, actor-turned content creator
The government, while acutely aware of the social capital wielded by influencers, has now succeeded in its game of catch-up. Influencers come under a separate profession code as part of the official ITR utility for Assessment Year 2024-2025.
“Fifteen years ago, it was Bollywood. Everyone wanted to be in the movies,” said Vivek K Dhadha, who meandered into content in 2016 and subsequently stayed put. “Now people want to become influencers. What we brought to the table was credibility in our advertising. But as the influencer economy grows, we’re losing that.”
Celebrities would seldom be using the products they’d be advertising, be it cement or washing machines. It’s unlikely that A-listers are driving around Bandra in Santros or using the fairness creams and sundry items they’ve lent their brand to.
There was a gaping hole with an audience keen to lap up people who were seemingly like them. Influencers, particularly in their early days, played into this cult of relatability. After that, there was no going back. Following the boom, creators became celebrities in their own right. A different breed of unattainable with lifestyles far removed from the ordinary.
The rise of influencers marks an epochal shift because it suggests that the carriers of social currency have changed. The lifestyle section of newspapers, the glistening pages of magazines, and the haloed grounds of Page 3 have been displaced.
Naina Bhan, an actor-turned creator has a manager, social media team, and a videography team that she works with in circulation. She is also the co-host of Moment of Silence, a podcast where brands and creators are fighting tooth and nail for attention.
The podcast gives Bhan an edge in a high-stakes game where the rules are always changing.
“A lot of us love to be organic when we’re conceptualising and writing scripts. But brands are wary of putting that kind of money aside for content that’s not all that obvious,” she said. “Through my podcast, things are a bit more under my control.”
Serious business
In their heyday, the otherwise drab broadsheet was packed with advertisements. Journalists were hounded by PR agencies; brand events would consist almost entirely of media professionals. The rise of influencers has marked the demise of the customary puff piece.
The contours of business strategist Dhatri Bhatt’s career have been shaped by the seismic shifts in marketing. After working on the business, communications and marketing side of brands like La Senza, H&M, Dior and Nykaa Fashion, she formed a boutique agency that builds partnerships between brands and influencers.
When it came to forecasting what has emerged as a lasting cultural phenomenon, she was ahead of the curve. In 2013, when H&M was finding its footing in India, she strayed from the usual suspects. She invited Miss Malini, the original lifestyle blogger, to an event in Stockholm.
“Why would anyone take an influencer over a Times of India or an Economic Times?” was the question posed to her by industry insiders.
The rise of influencers marks an epochal shift because it suggests that the carriers of social currency have changed. The lifestyle section of newspapers, the glistening pages of magazines, and the haloed grounds of Page 3 have been displaced.
“Influencers have become a big part of planning at all points. It’s a big change,” Bhatt said. “Brands are also looking for authenticity and want people who are building communities on that particular topic.”
Isharya, a Mumbai-based jewellery brand catering to a younger clientele, has “earmarked” roughly 10-15 per cent of its marketing budget for influencer partnerships. Another 20 per cent goes into “amplifying” the content—bringing it to about 35 per cent.
Now advertisements don’t overtly resemble advertisements. Products have to be slipped into stories and centred around narratives. An ad by tech accessories brand Daily Objects features an influencer on the move, attuned to the rhythms of the city. She struts through public transport, finds time to read Haruki Murakami’s Norwegian Wood, sip matcha, eat a bagel, and apply a coat of lip gloss. But above all, she has a functional, efficient Daily Objects bag which fits all her essentials. While the reel is for one brand, each element is a nod to a specific lifestyle that, while appearing attainable, is liminal.
According to Bhatt as well, this is no longer an economy that’s in its nascent stage—it is structured and fully formed. Brands now think about creators in a “holistic” sense. It’s not as much about followers as it is about fostering a lasting sense of awareness.
“Influencers come with a massive cost. Brands have to think about how they’re contributing to their sales and customer retention,” she said. “It’s affiliate marketing. How can we see a clearer return on investment?”
Marketing budgets vary from brand to brand. But even if they have a budget of Rs 20 lakh— not enough for a celebrity who can “move the needle”—what brands do is get five to 10 influencers on board. However, the pace is frenetic. She mentioned a popular creator who went from charging Rs 30,000 a post to Rs 3 lakh a post in the span of a couple of years.
Large sums require careful strategising. But brands take the plunge anyway, cataloguing which influencer could potentially tell their story.
“Influencers helped us contextualise the brand for India, launch product features, and serve as an always-on channel, rather than relying on a single campaign burst,” said Elixir Nahar, marketing consultant and former senior marketing manager of a leading dating app, explaining how she integrated the specificities of India into a global brand.
Isharya, a Mumbai-based jewellery brand catering to a younger clientele, has “earmarked” roughly 10-15 per cent of its marketing budget for influencer partnerships. Another 20 per cent goes into “amplifying” the content—bringing it to about 35 per cent. “A post needs eyeballs. It’s the digital equivalent of giving your best salesperson a good mic,” said Simran Khera, creative lead at Isharya. “At events, even with celebrity faces, we carve out time for influencer content. It’s the storytellers who make our jewellery travel.”
Opening Instagram leads to the general volley of reels and the inevitable brainrot. But the schizophrenic reality of the platform is such that it often mandates a loss of intention. Before they even know it, consumers are clicking on the payment gateway of the most obscure websites, buying a counterfeit Labubu or a mini sunscreen that can be clipped onto a work tote.
If it looks like an ad, you’ve already lost. Whether you’re selling a face serum or a fintech app, the content has to feel personal, entertaining and worth watching till the end.
Viraj Sheth, Co-Founder & CEO at Monk-E
Viraj Sheth of Monk-E, arguably India’s largest creator firm, pointed to a market that’s headed towards saturation. The democratisation of fame—coupled with jostling for room in the attention economy—has made things complicated, he said. Garnering views is only the tip of the iceberg in what is now serious business.
“It’s also way more crowded, and attention spans have shrunk drastically. Brands now want performance, not just vanity metrics,” he said.
Everything has to take place under a veil of authenticity—consumers want their sense of control back. This leaves advertisers and content creators with a tricky task.
“If it looks like an ad, you’ve already lost,” said Sheth. “Whether you’re selling a face serum or a fintech app, the content has to feel personal, entertaining and worth watching till the end.”
The quest for relevancy and the battle for clout also mean that over the last several years, influencer awards have gained steam. Magazines like Cosmopolitan award creators across categories, and PR managers lobby for the creators under their belt.
This means that creators need to expand the scope of what they’re already doing. Having a pretty face or belonging to a certain class is no longer enough. Bhan, who switched to creating content after starring in Netflix series Class, referred to a lesser-known truism of this universe. She effectively functions as an “independent production house.”
One of her reels for Dove Soap contains what looks to be the entirety of a “top-secret” influencer-only ‘Brings Your Own Bar’ event. She takes a bar of soap “that has seen her through everything” and hands it to Dove. Then, she’s seen clicking photos, trying on jewellery, attending a panel discussion—waiting until her old bar of soap is replaced with Dove’s serum-filled one.
A collaboration with Isharya is woven into what looks like an episode of a podcast. Bhan and her co-host and fellow influencer, Sakshi Shivdasani, wear Isharya’s ‘juju line’ casually as they discuss young women’s worst fear: Nazar. Lucky for them, they have their stack of evil-eye necklaces to protect them.
“The onset of consumer fatigue does require you to go in guns blazing,” said Bhan. “The kind of legwork that goes into creating isn’t spoken to enough.”
She also studied film and worked in creative production—a transferable skillset that equipped her to create high-quality content. However, given the abundance of practitioners, scriptwriting, shooting, and conceptualising videos can just as easily be outsourced.
And the expanse of the job means that the Mumbai-based creator also has a team on her pay-roll—a portion of their livelihood rests on how many people buy the products she is selling. The product needs to be malleable, the script crafted neatly.
“Reel creation is essentially hired advertising,” she said. “The audience isn’t naive, of course, they know you’re trying to push a product.” But it still needs to be relatable, organic, community-centric—buzzwords that were supposed to be antithetical to consumer fatigue but are now similarly overused and essential to advertising.
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Making an influencer
Monk-E has a heady mix of influencers on its list. They seem to belong to different realms but have a binding force: They bring in a lot of money.
It’s permitted Monk-E, co-founded by Ranveer Allahabadia aka BeerBiceps, to become a behemoth in the influencer marketing industry. They have 120 employees spread across Mumbai and Bengaluru. The exhaustive list of services they offer is another seal of approval to the industry’s growth—talent management, production, creative, sales, finance. It’s a one-stop influencer shop.
There’s no denying the perks and the irresistible subsidised life. Dhadha just returned from a PR-driven trip to a resort in the Western Himalayas. The hospitality was impeccable. The hotel was high-end, the chef curated a menu especially for him, and it was all expenses paid.
Established in 2017, Sheth and his team were astute enough to capitalise on what was an unmistakable wave. Despite their size, they’re selective about the creators they get on their roster, focusing on “depth.”
“If we can’t see brand fit, scalability, or differentiation, we usually pass,” he said. “Best cases are when a creator has strong brand affinity without compromising on trust.” Komal Pandey, part of a group of then-fledgling creators who rose to fame about a decade ago, was fleetingly represented by Monk-E. Currently, their roster includes celebrity photographer Joseph Radhik, yesteryear actor turned influencer Aruna Mucherla, and fashion designer Nancy Tyagi.
Sheth claimed to receive “dozens” of applications each week from influencers clamouring to be represented by Monk-E. In January of this year, he posted a video on his Instagram—putting the call out to the public. He was looking for India’s next big creator and was going to sign three people who commented on the post.
“We want to put everything we have behind you. The influencer marketing industry will be worth 7,000 crores in 2025. These are the kinds of bets that keep us at the very top,” said Viraj in the video.
The post has an astounding 63,000 comments, which suggests the obvious: everyone wants a piece of the creator pie. Day jobs no longer cut it.
Ultimately, he signed Ryan Haokip, Aashna Shrimali and “aWdoot Mule.” Haokip focuses on beauty for men, Shrimali on “breaking down” the fashion and beauty industry, while the third is a fitness influencer.
Meanwhile, Tiwari of Shyftt Communications curates PR for the likes of Karan Sareen, better known as “gorgeouspotaahto.” Sareen specialises in what has been categorised as “cringe content”—comedy reels that are easily shareable, rack up millions of views and often serve as a passport to success.
He has a deal with Lenskart, and advertises their Harry Potter line by referring to himself as a self-confessed “Potter paglu.” The product, once again, is woven into his style of presentation, as he requests his followers to click the link in his bio.
The quest for relevancy and the battle for clout also mean that over the last several years, influencer awards have gained steam. Magazines like Cosmopolitan award creators across categories, and PR managers lobby for the creators under their belt. This includes extolling virtues, data mining and good old-fashioned selling. Awards serve as a seal of approval and provide a layer of legitimacy that a follower count cannot.
“All creators want one thing—they want to be known as the top creators in whichever category they operate,” Tiwari said. “They want every single award.”
Other than awards, her job entails securing them interviews and providing them visibility in the form of podcasts and magazine covers. When it comes to “bigger creators,” her job description is modified. They don’t need someone to wrangle interviews—they get plenty of offers on their own—but instead someone to streamline the volume.
Tiwari doesn’t work with individual creators. She has partnerships with six creator agencies, which pay her on a retainer basis. On average, she charges about Rs 50,000 a month for a retainership. These bonds have been acquired through what remains sacred: networking. Despite the job’s digital dependency, a lot still hinges on “word of mouth.”
“All of the clients I have, I’ve worked with previously in some capacity,” she said. “It’s all about relationship building.”
Mouparna Dutta, who has a Master’s in Journalism and Communications, just began working at Shyftt. It’s her very first job. Journalism was never an option—she was certain she wanted to work in PR and manage those with whom she shares a para-social relationship.
“I definitely wanted to get into PR. But since I follow and watch many influencers closely, I also wanted to work for them,” she said, admitting that they play a big part in her life. “They’re also still evolving, and so the role of a PR person is going to expand.”
According to her, it’s not as simple as managing “publicity.” It’s about whittling a brand.
“I have a knack for storytelling. So I’ll be building personal brands for influencers who I know have bright futures,” she said.
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Battle for relevance
The creator universe dangles the carrot that is fame and fortune without years spent languishing in clinical offices or hours spent waiting for that one call.
InstaCelebsGossip, the popular subreddit which dissects every social media celebrity update, is constantly ringing the death-knell for various influencers. This digital funeral has a single-word eulogy: Irrelevancy.
It’s the fallout of an ecosystem where the algorithm is constantly changing in tandem with trending audio and dance routines.
Brands, creators, and marketers have to be on the lookout for the next big thing. They’re beholden to what they cannot always predict.
“Two years ago, everyone was doing big-budget shoots. Now, overly produced content is out of touch, soft placements build long-term recall,” said Khera.
The space is growing crowded. Founders of nearly every new-age brand create content—sharing their lives and stories legitimises the product itself. They’re bowing down to trends, which are often part of an unwritten rule book.
You’re competing 24/7. Ninety to ninety-five per cent of us are only putting out our best lives. There is no break. You have to be churning out content every day. It gets to you.
Vivek K Dhadha, content creator
Despite having built a sought-after community, Bhan needs to keep an eye out. Her consumer base keeps getting younger—eventually, she might have to reconfigure her content or public persona in order to retain her audience.
That’s why, now, they’re spreading the net wide.
“It’s about how culturally relevant you can continue to be. That’s also why every big creator or actor is moving into product,” said Bhan. “It takes the weight off hustling for yourself.”
Kusha Kapila appears to have pivoted entirely from the accessible comedy videos she became famous for and has now launched her own shapewear brand. Revant Himatsingka aka FoodPharmer is the proprietor of his own protein concentrate brand called “onlywhatsneeded.” The products are also extensions of what these creators are known for.
While social media users make jokes about creators complaining about their difficult jobs, there is a certain ‘dark side’ to being perennially switched on and monetising your entire life.
“You’re competing 24/7. Ninety to ninety-five per cent of us are only putting out our best lives,” said Dhadha. “There is no break. You have to be churning out content every day. It gets to you.”
But there’s no denying the perks and the irresistible subsidised life. Dhadha just returned from a PR-driven trip to a resort in the Western Himalayas. The hospitality was impeccable. The hotel was high-end, the chef curated a menu especially for him, and it was all expenses paid. This is part and parcel of the career, where even if you’re not charging high fees, a lot is still free—a ‘barter’ system.
“It’s addictive. Our expenses are extremely low and almost everything gets covered,” he said. “It’s only natural to like it.”
But even so, it’s getting trickier and more metrics are being thrown into the mix.
“Oversupply has made quality the key differentiator,” said Nahar. “There was a period where influencer budgets were through the roof because their demands were so high; ROI/business/investor scrutiny has led to a reset, making influencer marketing more performance-driven.”
Yet, according to strategist Bhatt, “quality” fashion creators continue to charge anything from Rs 75,000 a post to Rs 10 lakh.
The digital world could be filled with various iterations of Icarus. They’re possibly flying too close to the sun. But till then.
“I make more in a week than I would in a month at my previous job,” said Bhan.
(Edited by Theres Sudeep)