How the Reality Show 'Tribeverse' Exploited Naga Culture
The title of JioHotstar’s recently wrapped reality show Tribeverse carries the very capital upon which its makers monetise: tribal culture. Tribeverse, meaning tribal cosmology, is a show conceived around the culture of the Konyak Nagas, their indigenous visuality and the broader aesthetics of Nagaland. While seeming to be just another reality show, closer thought reveals a sustained, systematic imagination of the Nagas as an 'exotic' community. This imagination is not random; it is built and repeated throughout the show, reinforced by unbroken images of Nagas always in indigenous attire, dancing for the mainstream camera that functions as a machine perpetuating a single, 'exotic' image of the region.
Following patterns well-established across media formats like YouTube vlogs, non-fiction films, series and feature films, the show’s unique selling proposition is the feeling of exoticness that emerges from the screen. The ‘newness,’ ‘uniqueness’ and ‘differentness’ that Tribeverse captures, are not used to present Nagaland as an independent state of equal ‘Indianness,’ but rather to emphasise how the region, its people and culture are entirely dissimilar from the mainstream idea of India. This difference is not merely shown, but performed and stretched. The show's participants become contestants in a sport designed to prove that only the most resilient can wrestle with and endure the region's nature, infrastructure and food, as though Nagaland itself is a test ground.
The staple food of Nagas, an integral part of their identity with deep nutritional and historical value, is reduced to a test of the contestants’ endurance or sporting spirit. Food ceases to be food anymore, and instead becomes a challenge. This is a format borrowed from shows like Fear Factor, wherein contestants are frequently made to eat things framed as inedible alongside extreme stunts. Tribeverse reproduces this pattern and the local people are made spectators of their own culture being turned into a game. This is an extreme form of open contempt dressed as entertainment, no matter the intent.
But this is precisely the image the makers sought to portray: Nagaland as a land of strange culture where ‘Indians’ would eat Naga food only under competitive duress, making their displeasure clear by vomiting, tearing up or red faced-flinching to look dramatic and perform for the camera. Online, these segments circulated with captions like "Nagaland ka khana khana pada" (I had to eat Naga food.) Many social media users commented that the contestants’ exaggerated reactions were impacting the way Naga food is perceived, making it seem as though one might die by consuming it. These were not neutral reactions, they were theatrical expressions of disgust that deliberately and clearly distinguished between the food ‘Indians’ eat and Naga food.
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Imagine a Naga contestant reacting the same way to eating biryani or chole bhature. Has any mainstream Indian food ever been used as extreme in such shows? It has not, and it would strike as strange to most Indians if it were to happen, just like what the Nagas are experiencing after watching their food be subjected to such treatment. Such imbalance is not accidental.
One Instagram user, criticising the show's insensitive representation of Naga food, points out how the editors’ focus was not really on the food itself but on the contestants' reactions. The culture becomes a backdrop, something 'new' and 'exciting' to monetise on. The show needed something provocative and fresh to sustain itself and Nagaland became that outlet, weaponised for views. The malicious addition of shock value at the cost of someone's cultural identity, viral clips and humorous reactions were all instrumental in lining the makers' pockets.
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What most producers miss while engaging with regions like Nagaland is that visibility alone is not enough. It must be complemented with respect and substantiated by cultural awareness, accuracy and dignity. Putting shows in indigenous jewellery, dressing contestants in clothes with indigenous patterns, styled rooms with local aesthetics and occasionally bringing in local people to perform war cries, is not enough or even genuine engagement. Just as 'Indians' do not travel to school on elephants, Nagas do not conform to the many misconceptions 'mainstream' India has long held about them.
Indian entertainment should move beyond this 'exoticisation' of less-represented cultures. Culture can not be used as a visual device or a source of shock value. Shows like Tribeverse perpetuate the already inherent discrimination against Nagas within India. They extract cultural and social value from tribal communities for economic gain, a process that is not always visible, but very much present. The intention is not to uplift or foster an authentic understanding of the region. As one Instagram user put it, India has had enough reality shows in the same tired formats that producers went looking for something new, and the Konyak tribe and Nagaland became that something. This economic extraction of culture is now in full circulation, and will continue until the industry is held accountable to a higher standard.
Akishe L. Jakha is a film and media scholar from Nagaland, specialising in regional cinematic culture, film history and material practices of filmmaking.
This article went live on May tenth, two thousand twenty six, at forty-four minutes past nine in the morning.The Wire is now on WhatsApp. Follow our channel for sharp analysis and opinions on the latest developments.
