NEW DELHI — India has responded with visible concern to reports that Chinese nationals have been filming impoverished neighborhoods in Bangladesh and passing them off as scenes from New Delhi, a practice that the Ministry of External Affairs on Tuesday described as a deeply unfortunate attempt to distort reality. During his biweekly media briefing, MEA spokesperson Randhir Jaiswal addressed the issue directly, saying that such efforts to present a false picture of any country are regrettable and should not be taken lightly. The comments came after an investigative report by Bangladesh’s leading newspaper Prothom Alo claimed that around 150 Chinese vloggers had been documenting life in some of Dhaka’s most deprived areas, livestreaming the footage on popular Chinese digital platforms, and telling their audiences that the locations were in the Indian capital. What made the situation especially alarming was not just the geographical deception, but the tone of the commentary accompanying the videos. According to the report, the vloggers made derogatory remarks about the living conditions, infrastructure, hygiene, and even the food habits of the people they filmed, all while anchoring their stories to a fake New Delhi setting. Jaiswal’s measured but firm reaction signaled that New Delhi was not willing to let the matter pass quietly. “We have seen media reports in this regard. Such efforts to present a distorted picture of any country are unfortunate, I would say,” he told reporters, choosing his words carefully. He went further, stating that the peddling of false narratives only undermines the credibility of those who engage in such actions and those who film them, a pointed observation aimed at the creators and the platforms enabling this content. The MEA also urged the relevant authorities to take action against the reported activities, making it clear that this was not simply a nuisance but a matter that could have diplomatic and social consequences.
Jaiswal’s remarks carried a deeper layer of meaning, especially when he addressed the idea that foreign elements were being engaged to portray Dhaka as Delhi. “Insofar as efforts to buy foreign elements to portray Dhaka as Delhi are concerned, peddling of false narratives only undermines the credibility of those who are undertaking such actions and those who are filming them,” he said. This was a carefully crafted statement that avoided direct accusations while making the government’s position unmistakable. The use of the word “buy” was significant, as it referenced a disturbing aspect of the investigation: the report indicated that local facilitators were being paid to assist the Chinese vloggers in navigating the neighborhoods they wanted to film. These facilitators were reportedly receiving between 700 and 800 Bangladeshi taka per day, a modest sum that suggested a troubling economy of misinformation had quietly taken root. Jaiswal did not name any country or platform directly, but his words were clearly intended as a warning. He also emphasized the importance of accountability, saying, “I would urge that authorities concerned must take action against such a report.” For many observers, the statement was a rare public acknowledgment of how social media content, even from seemingly small vloggers, can become a tool for shaping international perceptions. The idea that a city like Dhaka could be disguised as Delhi in front of millions of viewers, without any immediate mechanism to correct the record, raised uncomfortable questions about the power of digital platforms and the ease with which false narratives can spread across borders.
The investigative report that triggered this diplomatic response painted a vivid and troubling picture. According to Prothom Alo, the Chinese nationals had been operating in and around Dhaka for some time, focusing on areas such as Tekpara and Uttara, two neighborhoods that offered stark visual contrasts with the modern parts of the city. The vloggers would walk through narrow lanes, film cramped dwellings with tin roofs, enter residential spaces without seeking permission, and often make unsolicited and harsh judgments about the people they encountered. The footage was then broadcast on WeChat and Douyin, China’s version of TikTok, where it reached audiences who might have no way of verifying whether the scenes were actually from New Delhi. The report noted that residents of these neighborhoods were increasingly disturbed by the presence of the filmmakers. They complained that strangers were entering their kitchens, recording their children, and filming their homes without any regard for privacy or dignity. Some residents said they felt they were being treated like exhibits in a human zoo, their poverty displayed for the entertainment of foreign viewers who were being told a complete lie about where these people lived. The report also highlighted that local police authorities had observed foreign nationals filming in the Uttara area, but that the reasons behind these activities were still under review. The slow pace of official response added to the frustration, as the vloggers continued to post content online while the investigation remained in its early stages.
One of the most striking examples in the report involved a Chinese national identified as “Mianmian,” who livestreamed from Uttara’s Sector 12 on November 1. Standing amid the modest homes and dusty streets, she confidently told her viewers, “This is New Delhi. Their homes are extremely dirty. There isn’t even a fan inside the tin-roofed houses. This place is quite underdeveloped, dirty and unhygienic, and the law-and-order situation is poor.” Her words were not just misleading; they were deliberately crafted to evoke a particular image of India’s capital as a place of squalor and chaos. The comment about the absence of fans in tin-roofed houses was particularly striking because it ignored the context of the actual location and the realities of the people living there. For viewers unfamiliar with South Asia, the footage might have seemed authentic, especially with the confident narration and the visual cues of crowded streets and modest architecture. But for anyone who knew either Dhaka or Delhi, the deception was obvious. The report quoted her as making these remarks in a casual, almost offhand manner, as if she were describing a natural phenomenon rather than a living community. This indifference to the dignity of the people she filmed was one of the most disturbing aspects of the entire affair. It suggested that the goal was not honest documentation or cultural exchange, but rather the production of content that would reinforce negative stereotypes and generate engagement through shock and disgust. The fact that she presented herself as a witness to New Delhi while standing in Bangladesh made the entire exercise an act of manipulation, one that could easily inflame tensions between neighbors who share a long and complex history.
Even more inflammatory was the case of another individual identified as “Wang Wei,” who was reportedly filmed while visiting Tekpara and making comments about local tea vendors. In one video, he pointed at people drinking tea and made a statement that was as absurd as it was offensive. “Look, they are drinking tea. Do you know what kind of tea this is? This is cow urine tea. They drink cow urine tea,” he said. The remark was not only factually false but also deeply provocative, given the religious and cultural sensitivities surrounding cows in both India and Bangladesh. By linking the tea consumed by residents to cow urine, the vlogger was attempting to portray the people as degraded and their customs as repulsive. This kind of rhetoric, when delivered with an air of authority, can have serious consequences. It can poison the minds of viewers, reinforce existing prejudices, and create a climate in which ordinary people in one country are dehumanized in the eyes of another. The report suggested that such comments were not isolated incidents but part of a broader pattern of derogatory remarks made by the vloggers as they moved through different neighborhoods. Whether they were criticizing the quality of housing, the state of sanitation, or the food and drink of local residents, the underlying message was always the same: this is a place of backwardness and misery, and it is called New Delhi. The deliberate use of that city’s name was not accidental. It was a choice designed to shape the way Chinese audiences viewed India, and by extension, the wider region. In a time when misinformation can easily go viral, such content has the potential to cause real harm, not just to international relations but to the everyday perception of millions of people.
The report has set off alarm bells not only in India but also in Bangladesh, where the unauthorized filming has raised concerns about privacy, sovereignty, and the manipulation of public perception. The fact that local facilitators were paid to help the vloggers navigate the neighborhoods suggests a degree of organization that goes beyond random content creation. It points to a coordinated effort, one that may have been driven by the desire to produce sensational material for audiences that reward negative portrayals of other countries. The response from Indian authorities has been clear and measured, with the MEA calling for action and emphasizing that false narratives undermine the credibility of those involved. But the episode also raises broader questions about the responsibility of digital platforms. WeChat and Douyin have enormous reach, and content posted on these platforms can spread quickly, especially when it touches on sensitive topics like national pride, religion, and social status. While the platforms may not have been complicit in the deception, their algorithms often promote content that generates strong emotional reactions, and this particular content was designed to do exactly that. For the residents of Tekpara and Uttara, the experience has been unsettling. They have been filmed without consent, mocked for their poverty, and presented to the world as examples of a city they do not live in. For India, the incident is a reminder that misinformation is not always a matter of political statements or government propaganda; sometimes it comes in the form of a vlogger with a phone, a fake location tag, and a stream of viewers ready to believe the worst. The MEA’s call for action is a step in the right direction, but the true challenge lies in preventing such content from being created in the first place. That will require greater awareness, stronger enforcement of existing laws, and a collective refusal to accept distorted images of any country as truth. In the meantime, the words of Randhir Jaiswal serve as a quiet but firm reminder that truth matters, and that those who seek to bend it for clicks and views will eventually lose the very credibility they are trying to exploit.