A viral Kaun Banega Crorepati episode featuring a rude child contestant raises questions about modern parenting, overconfidence in Gen Z kids, and the loss of humility in the social-media age.
I don’t really watch television anymore. There’s nothing worth watching. What used to inform now entertains, and what used to enlighten now performs. News anchors shout, debates dissolve into chaos, and “reality shows” sell emotions as if they were merchandise. But the irony is that even when we stop watching TV, TV never stops finding us. Social media brings the noise straight to our screens.
That’s how I came across a viral clip from Kaun Banega Crorepati. A young boy, barely ten, sitting on the hot seat before Amitabh Bachchan, speaking with an arrogance that would make even adults blush. “I know the rules, don’t explain them,” he said. A few questions later, “I don’t need the options, I know the answer.” And finally, after giving the wrong answer, “Lock it, sir. Lock it four times.”
The nation laughed, then fumed, then moralised. But beneath the meme storm lies a mirror – a reflection of what we’ve turned our children into.
This boy isn’t an isolated case. He’s the perfect product of what psychologists call the six-pocket syndrome. Six pockets – parents, grandparents from both sides – all pouring affection and money into one small being. He grows up in abundance, not learning patience or gratitude, but entitlement. He doesn’t earn anything, yet he commands everything. Respect, for him, isn’t earned; it’s expected.
Today’s Gen Z, and the “Alpha” generation that follows, are digital children. They don’t read books; they scroll. They don’t listen; they broadcast. They learn less from teachers and more from influencers. Their heroes don’t write, they post. They’ve been told confidence is everything – and so they flaunt it even when it’s hollow. Politeness feels outdated, humility seems weak, and patience is considered a flaw.
This is not arrogance alone; it’s a symptom of a deeper disorder — the age of manufactured confidence. Every like, every comment, every follower feeds the illusion of significance. The child in KBC wasn’t really talking to Amitabh Bachchan; he was performing for an imaginary audience that lives inside his phone. He wasn’t being rude to a person; he was chasing validation from a crowd he couldn’t even see.
The fault, though, doesn’t lie entirely with him. It lies with us – the adults who confuse education with upbringing, and who think good schools and gadgets can replace values. We’ve raised children who can debate but not listen, who can recite facts but not show respect, who can win competitions but fail at conversation.
And the media isn’t innocent either. It celebrates precocity without maturity, cleverness without character. Every talk show wants a “viral moment,” not a valuable lesson.
Amitabh Bachchan’s calm during that episode said more than any lecture could. “Sometimes children make mistakes because they’re overconfident,” he remarked. That single line carried the wisdom of an entire generation that once learned to earn confidence through discipline, not applause.
The truth is, our children are growing up rich in exposure but poor in reflection. They have everything – except the capacity to pause. The KBC incident isn’t just about a rude child; it’s about a society that rewards noise more than nuance.
We are raising children with six pockets full of cash, but empty of conscience. We’re teaching them how to win, not how to lose with grace. We’re feeding them ambition, not empathy.
One day, perhaps, we’ll realise that the goal isn’t to create another millionaire, but another human being. Because the real question isn’t who wants to be a crorepati – it’s who remembers how to be kind.