Anjali Raghav’s ‘What Should I Do?’ is a System Failure, Not a Personal Dilemma

In a society where artistic spaces often blur comfort zones, Haryanvi artist Anjali Raghav experienced firsthand how vulnerable a woman can feel, even onstage.The viral video of Bhojpuri superstar Pawan Singh placing his hand on her waist during a promotional event in Lucknow seems to have shaken the industry and awakened a public conversation often left unexplored.Raghav exited the Bhojpuri film industry, subsequently providing the highly-sought explanation for her lack of reaction on stage in a viral reel. Her recent reel highlighted the spatial politics of sexual violence, espeically in public or performative spaces. It was not her home audience, she was not in her familiar, cultural space.It took her time to process what had actually happened and to realise that the singer’s intentions were not playful but predatory.This is exactly how harassment often operates in public, performative spaces: ambiguous gesture + unequal power + hostile/adoring audience = delayed realisation and silencing. Ambiguity as cover: The gesture (claiming “something is stuck”) gives the harasser plausible deniability while violating personal boundaries. Survivors frequently doubt themselves first (“Am I overreacting to a joke?”) especially under stage lights, cameras and a cheering crowd. Raghav describes exactly this lag in realisation. Hostile environment: When the venue, organisers, and audience orbit the star, the survivor’s instinct is survival: smile, freeze, move on, and process later. Anjali says she lacked support on site and felt PR pressure to stay quiet. Aftershocks online: Post-event, survivors face second-guessing (“Why didn’t you slap him?”), which punishes delayed processing instead of the violation itself, again reported by Anjali. This is a textbook scenario of harassment in informal creative workplaces, where POSH-style guardrails rarely exist, be it on tours, live shows, video launches, and/or promotional stages.Udit Narayan: On Explicit Kisses and Implicit (Non) ConsentRaghav’s reaction, or instinctive lack thereof, in the immediate aftermath, is hardly surprising. As she later revealed, she found herself on a stage, far from home, among unfamiliar fans, in an event dominated by his crowd. When Singh gestured that something was stuck to her waist, she laughed, believing that perhaps a sari tag was misplaced, but she didn’t protest. The realisation hit later, once a team member confirmed there was nothing there.This hesitation is not unusual. Survivors often experience a delay in reacting because harassment is designed to be ambiguous, wrapped as a joke, a friendly gesture, or stage “banter.” In such situations, women question themselves first: Am I overreacting? Did I miss the joke?The artist's reflections show how this confusion is amplified when the entire environment is stacked against the survivor: the event was organised by Pawan Singh’s team, her own team in comparison was small, the audience was cheering for him, and she felt pressured to smile and carry on. Such settings leave women isolated, silenced, and forced to perform through their discomfort.Her indeterminate reaction isn’t an endorsement, it’s a testament to how women often need time to process violation, especially when aggression is couched as humour or staged normalcy. Emotional processing unfolds quietly, sometimes through tears, sometimes in delayed outrage.Anjali’s account makes one thing clear: the crowd’s silence enables the star’s power. Fans who cheer, organisers who “manage” optics, and PR teams that pressure survivors to hush together create a chilling effect. This is why she says in Haryana she’d have had community support, but in Lucknow, she felt alone. The message to women is cruelly consistent: speak and risk your career or stay silent and carry the stain. At the heart of it all lies the perpetrator and his fans, who look the other way. Singh’s lyrics and conduct fuel a culture where unchecked sexism is celebrated, not questioned. Fans find themselves at a crossroads: denouncing the behaviour means challenging the idol.If Anjali files a case, she risks ostracisation. Even if she wins, stigma remains. Meanwhile, toppling the system requires a fight few are ready or supported enough to wage. Bombay HC’s POSH Judgment Shows How Law Turns its Back on Women in LawRaghav herself noted that if this had happened in Haryana, her peers and audience would have supported her, sparing her the need to defend herself. In Lucknow, however, she felt compelled to issue a public clarification, almost apologising for taking time to process what had transpired. This contrast reveals how solidarity or the lack of it shapes whether women feel safe enough to resist harassment. The real tragedy is that even if she files a case, the likely outcomes remain bleak: in the best case scenario she faces career setbacks and stigma; in the worst, her harasser walks away while she bears the consequences.What happened to Anjali Raghav fits a broader pattern surrounding Pawan Singh. In 2019, a 25-year-old actor filed a sexual harassment FIR in Mumbai against him. Bhojpuri star Akshara Singh has also alleged harassment and intimidation linked to him, while his wife Jyoti Singh publicly spoke about mental harassment and abuse. Beyond these personal allegations, his artistic persona is built around vulgar lyrics and sexist performances that audiences applaud. The complicity of fans and organisers, their refusal to call out inappropriate behaviour creates an ecosystem where powerful men act with impunity, and women artists are left questioning whether they will be believed if they speak.Singh's apology came after six days after the viral incident through his Instagram story. But this so-called apology came across less as an act of remorse and more as an exercise in damage control. His note declared, “Mera aapke prati koi bhi ghalat intention nahi tha… phir bhi, agar aapko humari kisi bhi byavahaar se takleef hui ho, toh uske liye main shama prarthi hoon.” (I did not have any bad intentions toward you. But, even so, I apologise for any inconvenience you may have felt due to my actions.)An apology laced with a disclaimer, as if her pain was a misunderstanding rather than a breach of consent. His words seemed condescending and was intended at gaslighting the survivor, as though the complaint was an exaggeration or a nuisance rather than a legitimate greivance.Psychologically, it reflected a posture of superiority, caring just enough to be seen as addressing the issue, but not enough to take responsibility for his actions. Such apologies, written in lines that skirt around actual accountability, are damaging not only to the complainant but also to the wider audience observing the case. They tell survivors and bystanders alike that powerful men can “apologise” without ever apologising and that optics matter more than justice. For someone like Raghav, the toll of relentless trolling, PR spin, and online character assassination left her with little choice but to close the matter. But her acceptance of a hollow apology, however understandable on a personal level, sets a troubling precedent. It signals that if you push back against entrenched power, you may eventually be forced to accept token gestures that leave the cycle of impunity intact.India’s POSH Act (2013) was built for formal workplaces with Internal Committees. Touring artists, stage performers, influencers, and freelance crews often fall outside clear institutional protection. Harassment passes as “banter,” consent is presumed because “public figure,” and reporting can mean blacklisting. Who protects the artist performing at a venue today and forgotten tomorrow? Extending POSH-equivalent safeguards to entertainment’s informal spaces isn’t optional, it’s overdue. The Anjali Raghav episode is therefore more than a personal story. It is a mirror to how harassment hides in plain sight through jokes, gestures, and audiences who laugh instead of questioning.It highlights why systemic reform is needed: organisers must be made accountable, venues must ensure safety protocols, and audiences themselves must unlearn complicity. Until then, every woman on stage will be forced to choose between her dignity and her career, between her truth and her survival.Anjali Raghav ended her reel with a question: “What should I do?”The honest answer is brutal: today’s system asks a woman to choose between her truth and her career. That is a system failure—not a personal dilemma. Until creative workspaces are brought under clear, enforced protections, the next woman will perform, freeze, smile for the camera and go home to cry.To achieve better men and safer stages, we must cease treating consent as an improvisational element.Consent should be regarded as a formal rule, governed by a published protocol, practiced consistently, and subject to regular monitoring/policing and enforcement.(The author is an advocate at the Delhi High Court and social activist working on issues of gender justice and public policy. This is an opinion piece, and the views expressed above are the author’s own. The Quint neither endorses nor is responsible for the same.)Haryana Govt Suspends Woman Coach Who Alleged Sexual Harassment by Sandeep Singh

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Anjali Raghav-Pawan Singh Viral Video Exposes the Silence Women Face on Stage

Anjali Raghav’s story shows how harassment hides in plain sight—through ambiguity, power, and public silence.

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Topics: Haryana Harrasment Bhojpuri Actor