The Television Rating Point (TRP) scandal exposed by the Mumbai Police in 2020 may look like a contemporary media shock, but for me, it was an old story resurfacing. Nearly two decades earlier, as director general of Doordarshan (2002–03), I saw the same design at work, cloaked in technical jargon, protected by “expert” consensus, and treated as unquestionable science.

At the time, Doordarshan’s reach was overwhelming. Across all television homes, terrestrial, cable, and satellite, DD accounted for 35 of the top 50 programmes. DD National’s prime-time news commanded nearly 92% viewership. Yet the ratings narrative portrayed Doordarshan as marginal, with just 2–3% share. What was carefully left unsaid: this figure referred only to cable and satellite (C&S) homes.

That omission was central to the scam. Nearly 50% of television households depended entirely on terrestrial broadcasting, where Doordarshan was the only channel. But advertising decisions were based almost exclusively on C&S homes. By defining C&S as “the market”, the system made a large part of India invisible. This was an organised distortion with clear consequences. DD’s reach remained vast, but its revenue shrank.

Once my suspicions sharpened, I tried to understand how the TRP system actually worked. Few remember that there were originally two agencies whose data often contradicted each other. The confusion ended conveniently in 2001 when one agency bought the other. The resulting monopoly was glorified by everyone, including the DD professionals, as “single currency”.

To see the system from close quarters, I had a “people-meter” installed on my office television. The installation was revealing: the back panel was removed and wires soldered onto the tuner. I wondered why any household would allow such tampering, losing the warranty, unless there was an incentive.

The data card was collected twice a week by a worker from a data and market research firm. When I asked whether households were paid, he initially denied it. Later, over tea and samosas, he admitted the truth: households received inducements, pressure cookers, dining sets, and small appliances. Later, even a TV set.

Each family member was expected to press an assigned button while watching and press it again when leaving. The idea that viewers would follow this drill honestly was fanciful. In practice, poorer households could easily be guided to keep a particular channel on continuously. Years later, Mumbai would discover exactly this manipulation. Today, the industry claims improvement. Yet even now, viewership measurement relies on barely 58,000 people-meters to represent 230 million television households. The panel has grown, but the basic vulnerability remains.

With widespread Direct-to-Home (DTH) penetration, technology can record actual viewing directly from set-top boxes, subject to privacy safeguards. The problem is no longer technological feasibility; it is institutional intent.

I fought a lone battle. I met media buyers, showed them the data, and explained how they were being systematically cheated. They listened politely. Some even nodded. But the system was too profitable for too many. The fraud continued, blessed by silence.

Strip away the jargon, and the TRP story is brutally simple: a rigged measurement system that shrank Doordarshan on paper so its legitimate advertising revenue could be siphoned elsewhere. And when one person tried to expose it, the industry mocked him.

Excerpted with permission from India and I: A Hundred Memories, Not a Memoir, SY Quraishi, Hachette India.

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