In most parts of Bihar, children aren't actively choosing to listen to vulgar Bhojpuri songs, they're constantly exposed to them. Loudspeakers at weddings, melas, and local events blast these tracks, auto-rickshaws and roadside stalls amplify them through speakers, and YouTube algorithms relentlessly feed catchy but crude content.
Children imitate what they hear, and when vulgarity becomes normalized, they absorb it as entertainment, without understanding the line between catchy and corrupting.
Repeated exposure to lyrics that objectify women or glorify aggression wires young minds early on. Boys may grow up believing misogyny and toxic masculinity are normal, while girls may internalize objectification or remain silent out of discomfort. It’s not uncommon to hear kids as young as five or six repeating such lyrics without grasping their meaning.
This isn’t about moral panic, it’s about neurological conditioning; what children hear becomes how they think.
This trend is particularly tragic because Bhojpuri is a rich, poetic, and expressive language. Unfortunately, the current wave of vulgarity in the genre fails to reflect its cultural depth. Instead, it has become a commercial shortcut, leveraging shock value for virality while alienating educated and culturally conscious audiences who might otherwise embrace Bhojpuri music.
Bhojpuri has the potential to become India’s folk hip-hop or rural blues, but right now, it's stuck in a loop of viral vulgarity. This isn’t a blame game; it’s a call for change.
Artists must take responsibility and elevate the language through respectful, powerful storytelling.
Parents and educators should guide children toward healthier content, whether folk, conscious rap, or educational media.
Platforms need to implement better regional content filters and age warnings.
And the government should reorient cultural grants and funding toward meaningful Bhojpuri art, not what merely trends.
