Social media platforms have made a simple village homemaker an unexpected star. Pujarini Pradhan, (@lifeofpujaa) from a small Bengal village, built a large following by talking about books and films in English while chopping and cooking at home.
But recently, her success has become the subject of suspicion.
Observers noted her “polished” reels, and brand tie-ups and collaborations with platforms like Netflix, Canva and Audible, and asked: ‘How is this possible?’
Some called her an “industry plant” and “social media construct” – implying she had a team behind her. In short, critics questioned whether the articulate village woman they saw online was real or if it was all staged.
But do the claims instead reveal more about audience bias? Are we expecting a little too much from influencers who are also public figures?
Puja’s videos intentionally blend humble visuals with erudite commentary. And it is just not Puja, many other creators follow this format — showing a contrast between their life and personality.
This contrast – rural life meeting polished thoughts – is clearly her creative format. But did she eventually become a cash cow for big talent management companies and influencer-marketing agencies?
According to Puja, there’s nothing “hidden” about her process.
After a series of videos calling her out went viral, she shot back at the rumours in another Instagram reel. She claimed that the agencies only managed her brand deals, and she does all filming and editing on her own. “It took me only 15 to 20 minutes to shoot and edit this video,” she said, undercutting the idea that flawless reels require a professional production team.
She even explained how she parted ways with the first agency she worked with in November 2025, which tried to shortchange her – in other words, she built this “from nothing,” as she put it.
The more striking statement Puja made raised a question: Do people want to see misery? Puja said, “They want to see suffering in every video... They want me to complain about my life. They want to see sadness”.
In other words, some viewers were upset that her story didn’t fit the expected narrative of a struggling village woman.
Supporters argue that the backlash is fueled by discomfort with “a rural, articulate and financially independent” woman.
Actors Archana Puran Singh and Kusha Kapila were among those defending her, calling out people for selective activism. The supporters are also receiving backlash and being called Savarna feminists.
It’s not that Puja is obligated to prove her honesty or detail every deal. Influencers, like other creators, craft a persona. They curate their feed. They entertain or inspire; they aren’t documentary journalists. So are we expecting too much? We are not owed complete transparency.
Brands sponsoring their content is standard practice, and legally disclosed in ads. If her videos resonate, it’s because viewers chose to watch them. Think airport looks and stars being papped. Many of us knew these were staged, but these videos and photos still get viewership.
It’s not her responsibility to fulfil a rural-poverty narrative – it’s ours to question why we demand one.
The format she chose, combining a simple kitchen scene with intellectual musings, is the very reason so many people were drawn to her. In a way, she gave viewers a pause from slick influencers, showing that stories do not need spectacle to matter.
Viewers make and break influencers. Pujarini became an influencer because people liked her take on life. Like every other Instagram account, hers, too, is a platform and it is her choice to use it in how she wants.
The Life of Puja debate says a lot about audience expectations. We can demand “realness” all we want, but it’s our choice what we believe online. She’s done what countless creators do: built an audience with her content. If that content didn’t click with us, there are millions of others who would still watch.
So, can we really hold influencers in the crosshairs for failing to tell the story we want, or does that say more about our expectations than their intent?