Rappers in New York and Nepal have gone on to have successful careers as politicians. NYC Mayor Zohran Mamdani and Balen Shah, who is poised to become the Himalayan nation’s next prime minister, are just one of the many examples of how far the hip-hop genre can go. Indian rappers, however, are still stuck objectifying women and singing problematic lyrics — one of the many things wrong with our “brand of creativity”.
Badshah’s song ‘Teteeree’ is just the latest example. Since its release on 1 March, the track has triggered widespread outrage, particularly in Haryana, with many accusing the rapper of objectifying minors. The now-removed music video showed young girls in school uniforms seemingly running away from education, which sparked strong criticism.
An FIR has been registered, a Look Out Circular has been issued, and the police are itching to arrest the singer.
But this is not at all surprising. Not much time has passed since Guru Randhawa’s ‘Azul’, which is still available on YouTube, landed in hot water for showcasing and sexualising schoolgirls.
Social media outrage and dramatic television debates lead to nothing but views and TRPs. So, let’s stop pretending we actually care or that any actual action will be taken against Badshah.
The Haryana government and police seem to have suddenly woken up because the controversy now involves their state and the depiction of minors. But Badshah, who proudly called himself a “Haryanvi” in his apology video, hasn’t appeared out of nowhere. He has been around for years, and problematic lyrics have long been a part of his music.
One of Badshah’s tracks, ‘Get Up Jawani’ (2011), featuring Yo Yo Honey Singh, had the lyrics: “Gaana baje to naache baby doll, Ko tappe khilaun jaise basketball, Ek do nahin mere paas poore, Ek sau tareeke teri jaisi ko, Badshah ke peeche lagaane ke, Ghar le jaane ke jannat dikhaane ke (Babydoll dances when the song plays, Toys like basketballs, Not just one or two, I have 100 ways, To make someone like you chase Badshah).”
In another music video, ‘Genda Phool’ (2020) featuring Jacqueline Fernandez, the lyrics went: “Common baby kick it kick it, kaatun teri ticket ticket, khelta nahi cricket cricket par lelu teri wicket wicket (I will cut your ticket, Don’t play cricket but I will take your wicket).”
Also Read: FIRs, summons and an apology video — Why Badshah’s song ‘Tateeree’ is making Haryanvis angry
Bollywood’s old habit
It is not just about music videos. For decades, Bollywood item songs with objectionable lyrics like ‘Munni Badnam Hui’ and ‘Pink Lips’ (2014) have slipped under the radar. Major stars like Malaika Arora and Sunny Leone have danced to them in hit films like Dabaang (2010) and Hate Story 2 (2014); using them to attract audiences. These songs were packaged as mainstream entertainment. Over time, audiences stopped questioning them, and what should have raised concerns simply became part of the culture.
When problematic lyrics are repeated for years across films, albums, and party playlists, they stop feeling shocking. Even today, when a controversy emerges, the outrage rarely lasts long. It follows the same script: first criticism on social media, a public apology, and then the internet moves on as someone new takes up the limelight.
When the industry has protected and rewarded such content for years, expecting meaningful accountability now becomes difficult.
But now they claim that our morality has come alive. It baffles me how our collective conscience seems to wake up only occasionally, when vulgar and problematic lyrics have long been part of the industry.
Do we really need to be reminded of Honey Singh’s ‘Volume 1’ (2018) or even something as recent as rapper Baali’s ‘Shameless’ (2020), where he made a controversial remark about actress Sydney Sweeney?
In an attempt to imitate Western hip-hop culture, several Indian rappers have adopted its most superficial elements: explicit language, sexualization of women, and misogynistic undertones.
“Aya Badshah doli chadhane, in sabki ghodi banane (Badshah has come to get all these girls married and make mares out of them),” is a line from Badshah’s new song, which has been banned now.
And, after delivering these lyrics, Badshah, who seems to believe that money and fame give them a free pass, has the audacity to defend it as if criticism itself is the problem.
Of course, artists cannot be expected to carry the moral burden of always saying the right things. Art is meant to provoke, challenge, and sometimes even offend. But that does not mean creators should exist without any accountability for what they put out into the public sphere.
What makes the situation more frustrating is how selective our outrage tends to be. I remember the uproar when Honey Singh made a sexually suggestive remark during a concert in Delhi; social media erupted as if it were an unprecedented scandal. In reality, it wasn’t even the most problematic thing associated with his body of work.
‘Teteeree’ has been taken down from YouTube to give out a strong message, but Singh’s ‘Volume 1’, ‘Azul‘ and many others continue to exist online for public consumption. That contrast says a lot about how seriously we actually take the issue of objectification of women.
We often end up magnifying relatively minor moments while ignoring the deeper, more persistent issues embedded in lyrics and music videos. The result is misplaced outrage.
This also tells that everything that rhymes is music, and everyone who can string together catchy lines is an artist. Badshah’s work is a reminder of that uncomfortable truth. Wordplay and catchy beats cannot mask lyrics that often sound more like a crude locker-room conversation.
Music shapes culture as much as it reflects it, and when artists repeatedly package misogyny as entertainment, it stops being harmless wordplay and becomes part of a larger problem.
Rap has the potential to be powerful, rebellious and socially aware. But when the loudest voices in the room choose cheap provocation, they do a disservice not only to the audience but to the genre itself.
Views are personal.
(Edited by Insha Jalil Waziri)