In the glitzy world of Indian beauty pageants, where dazzling gowns and poised interviews decide crowns, one subtitle has taken on a deeper meaning in the Northeast: Miss Popular. For many in the region, this digital-era category has become the only realistic route for representation on the national stage.
While subtitles like Best Walk or Miss Beautiful Smile may be chosen by juries, Miss Popular is earned through the will of the people, a perfect battleground for communities united by cause and identity.
Year after year, contestants from the Northeast rarely win subtitles in national pageants like Miss Universe India. Whether due to bias, limited visibility, or systemic disadvantages in access and grooming, contestants from states like Mizoram, Manipur, Nagaland, and others often find themselves overlooked. But Miss Popular levels the playing field. It doesn’t rely on industry connections or elite pageant coaching. It relies on numbers, unity, and collective digital action.
This year, Mizoram rallied behind Evelyn Zachhingpui like never before. Students, teachers, celebrities, and even the elderly, many unfamiliar with the intricacies of Instagram, mobilised online. Social media in the state became a singular campaign vehicle. The call went out for a “hnatlangpui”, a voluntary mass effort.
High school and college students spent hours liking, commenting, and sharing Evelyn’s picture. Community pages urged followers to DM them Evelyn’s image to increase reposts. The voting rule was simple: 1 Like = 1 point, 1 Comment = 1 point, 1 Share = 2 points. Votes would only count if the person also followed both designated pages.
By the time this article was written, Evelyn had garnered over 100 million shares, 3.3 million comments, and over 50,200 reposts.
In stark contrast, the eventual Miss Universe India 2025 winner, Manika Vishwakarma, received just 3,520 likes, 1,445 comments, and 1,136 shares on her official Miss Popular post. These numbers paint a glaring picture, not of failure, but of the unique digital muscle of Northeastern states when given a chance.
However, the title eventually went to Manipur’s Nirupama Sarangthem, who, backed by her own state’s digital army, won Miss Popular and also placed as 4th Runner-Up. It was a proud moment not just for Manipur, but for the entire Northeast.
Still, it left many in Mizoram heartbroken, not due to rivalry, but because it highlighted a truth: there’s often only one crown, but too many deserving heads.
This has led to calls for change. A popular Mizo pop culture page, The Mizos, which has over 13,000 followers on Instagram, posted a pointed observation: “It is a little disappointing that while Miss Universe India allows three winners in categories such as Best National Costume, the same flexibility is not extended to the Miss Popular subtitle. This year, just two contestants generated over 100 million shares and created enormous engagement for the pageant’s social media, arguably giving the contest more publicity than the competition itself. Perhaps this was an oversight, but in the future it may be worth considering the possibility of having two or even three Miss Popular winners so that those contestants who truly amplify the platform receive the recognition they deserve.”
This is not just a beauty pageant issue; it speaks to representation, access, and cultural validation. For a region that continues to battle marginalisation and underrepresentation in mainstream Indian media and pop culture, winning even a single subtitle is a triumph. The Miss Popular category has become the Northeast’s rare opportunity to be seen, heard, and acknowledged.
Many youths in the region grow up with limited exposure to pageantry, fewer modelling agencies, and less access to training or grooming. Often, their voices are drowned out by mainstream standards that don’t always reflect their realities. So when a subtitle like Miss Popular emerges, based on digital votes and not jury tastes, it becomes a tool for collective assertion.
Ultimately, what this movement shows is that when given a common cause, the people of the Northeast, regardless of age, background, or digital fluency, stand as one. In a region often overlooked on the national stage, the Miss Popular title has become more than a competition; it is a statement of identity and unity.
It’s not just about winning a crown, it’s about reminding the rest of the country that when it comes to standing together, few do it with as much heart, purpose, and solidarity as the Northeast.
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