The first thing that went wrong after unconfirmed rumors about Kartik Aaryan surfaced online wasn’t misinformation; It was speed and an anti-feminist woman-on-woman narrative that the internet simply couldn’t sustain any longer. Social media evolved faster than caution, faster than nuance, and much faster than responsibility. Within hours, the discourse had moved away from what the rumor was about and ended up somewhere else entirely: a bizarre comparison between Ananya Panday and a 17-year-old girl. Two women were drawn into the frame and compressed into symbols, while the man at the center of the story was strangely marginalized.
Scroll through this Kartik-Aaryan rumor swirl long enough and a pattern emerges; The comments did not ask whether the reports were credible. They did not comment on the inappropriate behavior that the reports imply in their witty “Coca Cola Tu, Sola-Sola Tu” tunes. They did not question power dynamics or ethics; They just asked, “Why her?” Why not, Ananya? Why would anyone “choose” a minor when there is a glamorous Bollywood actor? The implication was clear and deeply disturbing, since desirability had become the moral standard. Accountability did not disappear but was quietly replaced. Kartik Aaryan was the so-called central character in the story “aadmi ko sona ka katora do, phir bhi woh bheekh hi maangega”.
Should the woman take the blame?
This reflex of explaining discomfort through comparison is not new. When something is wrong, people look for reasons that make it easier to digest. Psychologist Melvin Lerner described this decades ago with the just-world hypothesis: the belief that bad things don’t just happen, that there must be a reason for someone to be in danger. Online, that belief turns into blame. If the situation can be reframed as a preference or temptation, no one has to contend with the idea that harm can occur without justification.
The 17-year-old, meanwhile, was treated not as someone deserving of protection or care, but as an anomaly who needed to be interrogated. This is objectification theory playing out in real time. Women are reduced to surfaces, age, bodies and visibility, while men maintain their interiority.
This is how Ananya Panday came into a conversation that she had nothing to do with. She was discussed not as a person, but as a reference point and measure of beauty, fame and social worth. She became proof that the man “could have done better.” The 17-year-old, meanwhile, was treated not as someone deserving of protection or care, but as an anomaly who needed to be interrogated. This is objectification theory playing out in real time. Women are reduced to surfaces, age, bodies and visibility, while men maintain their interiority. One is dissected, the other discussed abstractly. Good thing you did, totally inappropriate internet!
Wait, we’ve seen this before, right?
What’s striking is how quickly this framing felt normal. No one asked why a rumor about a man had become a referendum on the value of women. As legality faded and ethics blurred, the Internet did what it often does best: transform a serious situation into content that no longer has consequences.
We’ve seen this movie before and it didn’t end well. In 2020, Rhea Chakraborty became the national proxy for grief, anger and unresolved questions following the death of Sushant Singh Rajput. Before the investigation was completed, her body language, clothing, relationships and personality were put to the test every evening. She became the face to which people could direct their outrage, while institutional failures and uncomfortable systemic issues quietly fell out of focus.
This wasn’t a coincidence; it was more of a psychological convenience. Albert Bandura calls this moral disengagement, the process by which responsibility is distributed so that people can feel morally satisfied without confronting the true source of discomfort. When outrage is directed at a woman, especially one close to a powerful man, publicity is dismissed without consequence. Anger goes somewhere and justice doesn’t.
What’s in a woman? mere eye candy? Despite it?
No compassion is shown to the minor involved; For them, dignity is a far-fetched price to pay. But how Ananya Panday is flattened here into a reference point and standard of beauty is incomprehensible. While Kartik Aaryan remains strangely isolated, his name is the focusand yet his agency in this woman-versus-woman debate is unclear.
FII
This is the silent asymmetry that online culture refuses to acknowledge. Men are allowed complexity, contradiction and distance, while women are asked to absorb impact. They become the surface on which public morality takes place.
What makes this cycle particularly vitriolic is the fact that it easily masquerades as a “discussion.” Misogyny is reframed as curiosity, cruelty is disguised as opinion, and comparisons are passed off as harmless commentary. But none of this is neutral; These narratives shape how society understands power, consent, and guilt. They teach us again and again that women are easier to punish than men to question.
This story isn’t really a rumor; It’s more a reflection of how quickly outrage drifts and how often women become battlegrounds to maintain power. And until that reflex is expressed rather than just named, the Internet will continue to confuse comparison with criticism when it is merely mockery.
