Lucknow: A 14-year-old boy rides the Lucknow Metro with an iPhone 17 in his hand and a clip-on mic at his collar–both bought with small donations from his followers on YouTube. During the ride, people stop him as if he’s a celebrity. Some even leave their work at the metro station just to shake his hand and take a photo.
The teenager, Ashwamit Gautam, is one of Lucknow’s loudest anti-BJP voices on Instagram and YouTube and he’s already had the police come calling.
“What you’re doing takes courage,” said a metro employee in his late twenties. “If we had even a little of that courage, we would speak the way you do.”
Strangers approach him for his take on the day’s headlines — UGC protests, the Deepak Mohammad case in Uttarakhand, or the drowning death of Yuvraj Mehta in Noida. Ashwamit obliges with the same poise found in his videos, blending metaphors and idioms with facts.
His content covers a wide spectrum: Modi, Ambedkar, RSS, Naxalism, Pakistani versus Indian media, the Delhi Red Fort blast, GST, Halal certification, election fraud. Of his two Instagram accounts, one has 2.4 million followers and the other 510,000. Many of his videos have crossed 10 million views. He has been called Dhruv Rathee 2.0, Chhota Ravish Kumar, and the “Abhinav Arora of the Left”. Kunal Kamra featured him on his YouTube show, Rathee follows him, and Dr Medusa calls his content “meaningful”. He also has multiple fan pages on Instagram and X.
Whatever the topic of the day, he has something punchy to say about it.
“In the name of gau sewa, people are attracting views and building Rs 4 crore bungalows. By now, you must have understood that Gangadhar is Shaktimaan,” he said in a video about the Modi government signing a trade deal with Oman that included halal certification for meat exports.
This courage is not something the Class 8 student was born with. The boy who now speaks fearlessly against authoritarianism, majoritarian politics, media complicity, caste hierarchies, and what he calls the “shrinking space of dissent”, once feared uttering even his own name.
For much of his childhood, he was known as Ashwamit “Sharma”— a surname chosen by his father to conceal their Dalit identity. A shield against discrimination.
If I were older than 18, my situation could have been like Sonam Wangchuk or Umar Khalid. My friends helped me understand that freedom of speech in India isn’t like malai (cream) on a plate—anyone can’t just take it. To speak freely, you sometimes have to fight for it
-Ashwamit Gautam
After each vlogging session, he trudges back to a tiny two-room home in a village on the outskirts of Lucknow, with low ceilings, poor ventilation, and walls with flaking plaster. There is no water supply or electricity; after dark, the family depends on rechargeable lights. The road outside is uneven and muddy. Recording a video inside requires rearranging furniture to make space.
The daring he shows today comes from BR Ambedkar, he said. Ashwamit reads him, quotes him, studies him. Like Ambedkar, he wants to study abroad and then return and rebuild the country.
But his rising profile also landed him in trouble in January 2026, when someone in Hathras lodged a police complaint against him after taking offence to one of his viral Instagram reels. The Lucknow police detained Ashwamit briefly under preventive Section 151 CrPC (arrest to stop cognizable crime) but released him quickly as he is a minor.
His brother, Aditya Gautam, however, was held for 24 hours under various related BNSS Sections, including 170 (arrest to prevent cognizable offence) and 126 (security for keeping peace), as the police assumed he managed Ashwamit’s account.
“Ashwamit Gautam intentionally posted a video on Instagram showing Ram represented as a cartoon character Doraemon. The video was circulated by his 24-year-old elder brother, Aditya Gautam. When asked, Ashwamit said he made the post to highlight that the Constitution gives everyone equal rights—whether one worships Lord Ram or Ravana,” the preventive magistrate’s notice read. It added that Aditya made the video with the intent to hurt religious sentiments.
Overnight, he went from being a local favourite to being discussed in the same breath as celebrity political content creators such as Baaghi Haryanvi, Dr Medusa, and Dhruv Rathee.
In his room, two small statues of Ambedkar and a framed photograph are constant reminders of his roots, struggle, and the shoulders he stands on.
“Ashwamit has lifted himself so high that he has erased the fear our whole family once carried about caste,” said his father Narendra Gautam, sitting cross-legged on the bed with chai and a samosa. He works as a gardener at petrol pumps and private homes and lives separately nearby, often unsure what the boys are filming next.
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Lisp to livestream
Ashwamit is a fearless voice today. But in elementary school, he had a lisp and was made fun of. That was his first ever battle.
He began recording videos at the age of nine, despite the lisp. It took him over three years to mostly overcome it. With a pencil clenched horizontally between his lips, he would repeat tongue-twisters slowly and carefully in front of a mirror every day. Even when his speech grew clearer, he continued this ritual.
“Earlier, he used to lisp a lot. People would say, ‘How will you ever speak in front of a camera?’ But he worked very hard,” said Aditya.
Ashwamit’s early content was uncontroversial—about saving forests, his brother buying him books, his grandmother singing, and the occasional confession, such as “Aaj papa se mai gussa hun (I am angry at my father today).” Over time, his range expanded to include book reviews, media recommendations, Osho reflections, and tourism vlogs covering sites such as Musa Bagh and Behata Shiv Mandir, or themes like Lucknow at night.
He launched into political commentary just about a year ago. While he still posts slice-of-life vlogs on Instagram and YouTube, his other, more popular, Insta account is dedicated entirely to politics.
A visit to Vishal Mega Mart in Dubagga about six months ago gave him a small taste of fame before the major breakthrough following his FIR. While he was vlogging his shopping, an employee confronted him and told him to stop filming. In the resulting scuffle, his mic broke.
“Something like this shouldn’t happen to a creator who promotes Lucknow tourism, encourages people to explore the city, and makes videos,” he said in the vlog.
The incident brought him local fame. His subscriber count grew, fans sent supportive DMs, and some even donated money so he could replace his mic.
Recently, he visited Lucknow University during protests by upper caste students against the UGC’s new regulations on the promotion of equity in campuses. He talked to both sides for his vlog.
“I got calls to cover it since no other media was coming, so I went,” he said.
Doraemon reality check
Last month, Ashwamit was studying at a small library near his house when a team of policemen suddenly descended on him and asked him to come along for questioning. A complaint had been filed over one of his Instagram reels. A clipped portion was now circulating on X, and the officers wanted him to delete it.
Ironically, the reel was meant to advocate respect for Hindu deities—something that shouldn’t have landed him in trouble in today’s India.
The reel in question was a response to Saroj Sargam, a Mirzapur folk singer who had been arrested last September over an allegedly derogatory song about Goddess Durga in the name of Ambedkar’s anti-religious ideas. Ashwamit argued that while the Constitution protects free expression, India is a country of diverse beliefs, and such remarks can hurt people’s religious sentiments.
“You (Saroj Sargam) said ‘Jai Samvidhaan’, but the Constitution is not only yours; it protects everyone’s faith. Whether someone starts practising Doraemon-ism or says ‘Jai Ravan’ and asks that Ravan’s effigy not be burned, the Constitution protects that too,” he said in the reel.
He used an image of Lord Rama with Doraemon’s face in his video, but said he hadn’t edited it himself.
The same relatives who used to stop him from making videos, saying, ‘Why are you putting yourself through trouble? Just give it up’ now praise him
-Aditya Gautam
Initially, he and his brother were taken to Thakurganj Police Station and then handed over to Dubagga Police Station in their residential jurisdiction.
“The officers watched the video and acknowledged that the content itself was not incorrect. The uproar came from viewers misinterpreting the video, especially because of the image of Doraemon over Ram’s face. The image was taken from a website,” said Nitesh Kumar, 30, one of Ashwamit’s friends.
Later, Ashwamit made a video explaining the entire case and drew parallels with jailed activists.
“If I were older than 18, my situation could have been like Sonam Wangchuk or Umar Khalid,” he said. “My friends helped me understand that freedom of speech in India isn’t like malai (cream) on a plate—anyone can’t just take it. To speak freely, you sometimes have to fight for it, endure physical and mental pressure, even when what you are saying is right.”
Nights at the library
Every night around 11 pm, Ashwamit and his brother Aditya walk to a 24×7 library frequented by UPSC aspirants. It has become their second home. While Aditya studies for his LLB, Ashwamit reads newspapers, researches, writes scripts with some help from AI, and edits his videos. When it gets too late, they stretch out on the chatais on the floor and sleep there.
Most nights, Ashwamit gets barely four hours. He’s enrolled at SKT Academy, a private school, through a distance education programme.
At home, the brothers rely heavily on each other. They live with their grandmother, who can no longer hear, and an elder sister who helps Ashwamit with his recordings by pointing out mistakes and correcting pronunciations. Their father lives separately, while their mother and another sister reside in Delhi.
In Ashwamit’s room, a cupboard with a broken door holds books on philosophy, politics, and history: Friedrich Nietzsche, Bolna Hi Hai by Ravish Kumar, Osho’s Sex to Superconsciousness, Godaan by Premchand, Why I Am an Atheist by Bhagat Singh, India After Gandhi by Ramachandra Guha, along with maths and science textbooks. He also owns the red-and-black pocket edition of the Constitution—the version made famous by Rahul Gandhi and held up by Kunal Kamra during the controversy over his “gaddar” remark against Shiv Sena leader Eknath Shinde last year.
If a child so young can have such clarity of thought, then something positive must still be happening in this country. He is not performing politics. He is reacting to it, speaking about how it affects him, the country. That is what makes his presence meaningful
-‘Dr Medusa’, professor and political content creator
Many of these books were bought at metro stations, and some borrowed from friends or passed down from his brother.
Another wall is covered with sticky notes and small diary pages, almost all in Hindi. They hold ideas for vlogs and reels, as well as general knowledge snippets— everything from important dates and articles of the Constitution to news headlines. This corner forms the backdrop of his videos, and fans often notice and comment on every new addition or change.
At the centre of this wall hangs a yellow chart bearing the title of one of the two books Ashwamit has been writing for three years: Murder Kahun Ya Aatmhatya? It is inspired by real incidents involving his brother’s friend who attempted the NEET exam multiple times.
Ashwamit is following in the footsteps of his brother, a passionate writer who has already written two books available on PocketFM and Pratilipi. He has also contributed to Quora posts and worked for a YouTube channel in the past.
Waiting for home
A hint of longing lingers in Ashwamit’s life, reflected in the photograph of his mother placed in a corner of his room. She does not live with them in Lucknow. Their parents separated before he was born, and the brothers have never seen them together.
“Father comes home for five minutes. Sometimes he doesn’t come at all,” Aditya said. “He leaves vegetables and goes back. He has rented another house and lives there.”
Another sister lives in Delhi with their mother, and the brothers speak to her only occasionally. For now, they are basking in the newfound approval of extended family members.
“The same relatives who used to stop him from making videos, saying, ‘Why are you putting yourself through trouble? Just give it up’ now praise him,” Aditya said. “Ashwamit feels that one day his mother will come, and the family will be whole. Everyone will come together.”
After finishing Class 8, Ashwamit wants to move to Delhi. He plans to live with his mother and study at a government school, while Aditya stays behind to finish his LLB at a college affiliated with Lucknow University.
Aditya’s voice trembled when he said they would soon start living separately. At 24, he has spent much of his life working at a local chemist’s shop part-time to support the household and fund his younger brother’s ambitions.
I want to study political science abroad at universities such as Yale, Oxford, and Cambridge. I will get the best education, come back, and work for my country
-Ashwamit Gautam
He recounted the first mic he had bought for Ashwamit with his own money — a Boya M1. Later, seeing how dedicated he was, Aditya started lending him his own phone for recording.
About 10 months ago, Aditya bought him an iPhone 12 mini. With it, Ashwamit created one of his early viral videos — a review of the “best books of journalism”, including Media ka Loktantra by Vineet Kumar, which he described as “only about the BJP” but also illuminating and well-written. Around the same time, in April 2025, his review of Bharat Mein Jansanchar by Keval J Kumar got over 2.5 lakh likes on Instagram, far more than the few hundred his videos had typically got until then. Followers praised his clarity. “Concept kitna clear hai, beta,” read one.
One of Ashwamit’s biggest heroes is journalist Ravish Kumar, although he has not yet interacted with him.
“That’s why I decided I would study journalism,” Ashwamit said. “I want to study political science abroad at universities such as Yale, Oxford, and Cambridge. I will get the best education, come back, and work for my country.”
When big voices listened
Ashwamit’s pithy commentary and the way he placed himself inside the realities of today’s India earned him a steady trickle of followers. One of his earliest political videos was a home tour.
The clip opened with Narendra Modi’s voice saying that India had used drone technology to build roads, while Ashwamit walked along the muddy, potholed stretch outside his home. “Friends, this is my house — it has neither electricity nor water,” he said, looking into the camera and smiling.
First, friends followed. Then strangers. Slowly, the circle widened, with the Vishal Mega Mart controversy providing a boost as well.
But the real surge arrived after the FIR. Dhruv Rathee followed him and shared one of Ashwamit’s reels in an Instagram story. This raised Ashwamit’s follower count from 115K to 300,000 almost overnight.
Behind the scenes, Rathee offered legal help as well, according to the brothers.
“He messaged and said if you need a lawyer, tell me,” Aditya recalled. They accepted. Rathee connected them with his lawyer and supported the process.
After Rathee’s amplification, other political creators took notice. Kunal Kamra gifted Ashwamit an HP laptop and invited him twice to appear on his YouTube show Khabar-e-Aazam. Other creators began sending DMs asking if he needed help. Rahul Sinhmar, a political content creator from Haryana, even offered to buy him a camera.
People were protecting him now. Many saw in him a rare kind of hope: a teenager willing to speak about issues that mattered.
Madri Kakoti, ‘or Dr Medusa’, a political commentator from Lucknow University, said what first struck her was a line from one of his early videos: he said he was not the “second Dhruv Rathee, he was Ashwamit.”
That clarity of identity stayed with her.
“If a child so young can have such clarity of thought, then something positive must still be happening in this country,” Medusa said.
She called the FIR deeply unfortunate, saying there must be space to make mistakes.
Political commentary, she pointed out, is not glamorous content creation. It invites scrutiny from governments, backlash from supporters, attacks from IT cells.
“He is not performing politics,” she said. “He is reacting to it, speaking about how it affects him, the people around him, and the country. That is what makes his presence meaningful.”
Despite the attention, Aditya constantly reminds Ashwamit that there is still work to be done. His speech needs polishing. His English is not fluent yet. His content could be more structured. Ashwamit plans to start vlogging in English soon, though he struggles with phrasing at times.
“Memorising English words won’t help; start speaking full sentences instead,” Aditya nudged his brother.
Even with growing popularity, the work is tiring, mistakes happen often, and progress can be slow. He now has an iPhone 17, bought with small donations from followers, and a GoPro to expand his recording setup.
Sometimes, the only reward is the constant pinging of his phone. A frequent companion of the brothers, Nitesh Kumar recalled one evening when they went to watch Dhadak 2 at a small cinema hall in Dubagga. Ashwamit’s follower count was around 900 when they walked in and had crossed 10,000 by the time they stepped out two hours later. They hardly watched the film.
“We were checking the followers the whole time. Notifications kept flashing. And when we reached home, the number had touched 25,000,” said Kumar.
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The fallout of fame
Life has changed almost overnight. Ashwamit dreams bigger now and is settling into the fame that arrived even before he hit his mid-teens. Whenever someone recognises him, he stops for a photo or conversation. If he meets fellow content creators, he promises collaboration and support.
“People take photos with me so their posts can go viral too,” he said.
Local politicians from across the spectrum ask him to meet them, although he tries to avoid such interactions so that it doesn’t seem as if he supports any particular party.
But the attention has come at a cost. Ashwamit dropped out of his previous school last year, alleging that his teachers punished him because of the kind of content he was making and the principal threatened him with expulsion.
“They used to say kids who waste time making videos will grow up to do labour work,” he said, adding that teachers would ask him to stand outside the class with his hands raised for hours.
However, the principal, speaking anonymously, said there were issues with paperwork and academics. She claimed that Ashwamit’s father had enrolled him under the surname “Sharma” and when documents were requested, they could not be produced, and he could not continue. His father, who had been a teacher there, had left the school the previous year.
“Ashwamit was never very focused on studies, and teachers often advised him to stop making videos and concentrate. But if this is the future he is building, we are proud of him,” she said.
Now that he studies through distance education at a new school, he doesn’t really have friends his own age. He grew up around his brother’s circle and conversations far beyond playground talk.
Aditya now closely monitors his accounts, checking every post before it goes live to ensure nothing controversial gets them into trouble again. Journalists call his father almost every day, seeking interviews. But they rarely respond, worried that too much exposure could disrupt their lives.
There is little trace of a conventional childhood in his days, no playground silliness, no carefree, aimless afternoons. Yet he doesn’t speak of it with regret.
“I’ve had enough fun already,” he said. “Now it’s time to work a little.”
(Edited by Asavari Singh)