Pooja Pillai is an entertainment journalist with Asian Media Group, where she covers cinema, pop culture, internet trends, and the politics of representation. Her work spans interviews, cultural features, and social commentary across digital platforms.
She began her reporting career as a news anchor, scripting and presenting stories for a regional newsroom. With a background in journalism and media studies, she has since built a body of work exploring how entertainment intersects with social and cultural shifts, particularly through a South Indian lens.
She brings both newsroom rigour and narrative curiosity to her work, and believes the best stories don’t just inform — they reveal what we didn’t know we needed to hear.
Mohini Dey laughs down the line, a deep, unfiltered chuckle that cuts through the noise. “Ronnie Scott’s? With my band, playing my music? That’s crazy,” she says, still letting it sink in. Speaking exclusively to Eastern Eye from Los Angeles, where she recently wrapped a show at the Hollywood Bowl with Willow Smith, the 28-year-old bassist is now preparing for her first headline performance in the UK this July.
For Dey, who grew up riding Mumbai’s local trains with a Walkman and no room for childhood distractions, this moment feels both improbable and hard-earned. It’s the kind of full-circle milestone that doesn’t come from luck, but from surviving, insisting, and showing up anyway.
A childhood full of sounds and music
Mohini was never a regular child. Born into a musically disciplined home in Mumbai, her father a bassist, her mother a singer, Mohini’s life was all structure and sound. But not the kind most children grow up with. “I didn’t have friends my age,” she says plainly. “My dad was strict. He believed childhood was for building something, not wasting time.”
While most kids her age were at birthday parties, Mohini was at Nirvana Studio, jamming with jazz legends like Ranjit Barot and Louis Banks. “It was like going to two schools: one for academics, one for music history and reality checks,” she recalls. “I was surrounded by giants, and I learned early that to make it, I had to be exceptional.”
Mohini Dey will make her UK headline debut at London’s iconic Ronnie Scott’s Jazz Club this July Instagram/dey_bass
That early push turned her into a master of her craft but also left scars. “I was depressed as hell,” she admits. “I was constantly being moulded into someone else’s dream.”
At 17, she left it all and became the family’s breadwinner
At 17, she snapped. In a moment of quiet rebellion, she left home. Cut ties. Lived alone. And decided to prove, especially to her father, that she could make it on her own. “He told me I wouldn’t be successful without him,” she remembers. “I needed to show him he was wrong.”
Those three years were lonely, but transformative. Mohini toured, hustled, and became her family’s main earner. “I learned to navigate everything. The business side, the gigs and all of it,” she says.
Bassist Mohini Dey is redefining what it means to be an Indian woman on the global music stageInstagram/dey_bass/bassplayunited
When music became medicine
The silence with her father finally broke when he called her after three years. “He said he was proud. That was enough. He didn’t apologise, but he didn’t need to.” She began taking him to her shows. In the last two years before he passed away, Mohini made sure he saw what she’d become.
“I took him to my shows. Introduced him to the life I’d built. It was healing,” she says, voice softening. “His death hit hard... but also made me push even more,” she says. “The last two years before he passed… they were good. Really wholesome. I’m glad we had that.”
Her father’s death could have derailed her. Instead, she kept playing. “I got back on stage within days. Because music took care of me when I couldn’t take care of myself.”
Mohini Dey opens up about burnout, ambition, and finding balance in a demanding industryInstagram/dey_bass
Not just the bass girl
Mohini is now one of India’s most sought-after musicians, having worked with legends like A.R. Rahman, Clinton Cerejo, Zakir Hussain, Salim–Sulaiman, and even Willow Smith, with whom she just played the Hollywood Bowl.
She’s crossed genres with ease, from Carnatic to rock, from fusion to pop. Her only rule? Never stay comfortable. “I’ll do a metal tour one week, a classical show the next,” she grins. “If it feels too easy, I’m bored.”
But don’t mistake that hustle for perfectionism. “I’m burnt out,” she says without flinching. “I’ve been working nonstop, albums, tours, even managing a side business. Sometimes I just want to disappear into a cave with my bass.”
Still, when she plays, the burnout fades. “There are these rare moments when I’m on stage, not overthinking, just being. That’s what I chase.”
Mohini Dey’s journey from a musically strict childhood in Mumbai to international acclaim is a story of rebellion, resilience, and rhythmInstagram/dey_bass
“I’m not a diversity hire. I’m just good”
Despite being a young Indian woman in an industry that rarely makes space for either, Mohini refuses to paint herself as a victim. “If anything, I used it to my advantage,” she says with a shrug. “I’m talented, I’m beautiful, I’m Indian. It made people take notice. But then I had to prove I deserved it.”
That confidence comes from lived experience. “I’ve never been treated like a diversity hire. I get called because I deliver. And because I’m versatile.” Her mentor, drummer Ranjit Barot, taught her early on: “You’re a musician first. The rest is noise.” That philosophy stuck.
From Mumbai to the world stage, Mohini plays life her own wayInstagram/dey_bass
Redefining success on her own terms
Despite the accolades, Forbes 30 Under 30, global acclaim, and sold-out venues, Mohini says awards never meant much to her. “In India, there are no awards for instrumentalists. Everything is for playback singers.”
So how does she define success? “I don’t know what it means yet,” she admits. “But contentment? That’s what I chase. Those rare moments when I play and I’m not overthinking, just flowing. That’s a win.”
Mohini Dey says music saved her when nothing else couldInstagram/dey_bass
What’s next: less travel, more life
As she readies her set for Ronnie Scott’s, including unreleased tracks and new sounds, Mohini is also thinking about slowing down. “I hate travelling,” she laughs. “By the time I’m 38, I want to be working from home, running a studio, picking only what excites me.”
She’s already laying the foundation with a social media company, side hustles and plans to support young musicians. “Music can’t feel like a grind,” she says. “It has to stay personal.”
Mohini Dey has become one of India’s most in-demand musicians across genresInstagram/dey_bass/bahrainjazzfest
Advice to dreamers: trust your gut
Asked what she’d tell her 14-year-old self, Mohini smiles. “Nothing. That kid was solid. She did what her dad told her to do. Then she did what she wanted to do. I’m proud of her.”
Her advice to young artists is blunt but inspiring: “People will try to drag you down. You’ve got to stay consistent, stay grounded, and own your story. Don’t wait for validation. Let your work speak. And if it doesn’t? Keep going until it does.”
From lonely train rides in Mumbai to sold-out shows at Ronnie Scott’s, from rejection and burnout to quiet moments of clarity on stage, Mohini Dey’s journey isn’t just about music, it’s about survival, rebellion, and learning to finally breathe in a life she built for herself.
And through it all, one truth remains: the bass didn’t just give her rhythm. It gave her voice.
AI can make thousands of podcast episodes every week with very few people.
Making an AI podcast episode costs almost nothing and can make money fast.
Small podcasters cannot get noticed. It is hard for them to earn.
Advertisements go to AI shows. Human shows get ignored.
Listeners do not mind AI. Some like it.
A company can now publish thousands of podcasts a week with almost no people. That fact alone should wake up anyone who makes money from talking into a mic.
The company now turns out roughly 3,000 episodes a week with a team of eight. Each episode costs about £0.75 (₹88.64) to make. With as few as 20 listens, an episode can cover its cost. That single line explains why the rest of this story is happening.
When AI takes over podcasts human creators are struggling to keep up iStock
The math that changes the game
Podcasting used to be slow and hands-on. Hosts booked guests, edited interviews, and hunted sponsors. Now, the fixed costs, including writing, voice, and editing, can be automated. Once that system is running, adding another episode barely costs anything; it is just another file pushed through the same machine.
To see how that changes the landscape, look at the scale we are talking about. By September 2025, there were already well over 4.52 million podcasts worldwide. In just three months, close to half a million new shows joined the pile. It has become a crowded marketplace worth roughly £32 billion (₹3.74 trillion), most of it fuelled by advertising money.
That combination of a huge market plus near-zero marginal costs creates a simple incentive: flood the directories with niche shows. Even tiny audiences become profitable.
What mass production looks like
These AI shows are not replacements for every human program. They are different products. Producers use generative models to write scripts, synthesise voice tracks, add music, and publish automatically. Topics are hyper-niche: pollen counts in a mid-sized city, daily stock micro-summaries, or a five-minute briefing on a single plant species. The episodes are short, frequent, and tailored to narrow advertiser categories.
That model works because advertisers can target tiny audiences. If an antihistamine maker can reach fifty people looking up pollen data in one town, that can still be worth paying for. Multiply that by thousands of micro-topics, and the revenue math stacks up.
How mass-produced AI podcasts are drowning out real human voicesiStock
Where human creators lose
Podcasting has always been fragile for independent creators. Most shows never break even. Discoverability is hard. Promotion costs money. Now, add AI fleets pushing volume, and the problem worsens.
Platforms surface content through algorithms. If those algorithms reward frequency, freshness, or sheer inventory, AI producers gain an advantage. Human shows that take weeks to produce with high-quality narrative, interviews, or even investigative pieces get buried.
Advertisers chasing cheap reach will be tempted by mass AI networks. That will push down the effective CPMs (cost per thousand listens) for many categories. Small hosts who relied on a few branded reads or listener donations will see the pool shrink.
What listeners get and what they lose
Not every listener cares if a host is synthetic. Some care only about the utility: a quick sports update, a commute briefing, or a how-to snippet. For those use cases, AI can be fine, or even better, because it is faster, cheaper, and always on.
But the thing is, a lot of podcast value comes from human quirks. The long-form interview, the offbeat joke, the voice that makes you feel known—those are hard to fake. Studies and industry voices already show 52% of consumers feel less engaged with content. The result is a split audience: one side tolerates or prefers automated, functional audio; the other side pays to keep human voices alive.
When cheap AI shows flood the market small creators lose their edgeiStock
Legal and ethical damage control
Mass AI podcasting raises immediate legal and ethical questions.
Copyright — Models trained on protected audio and text can reproduce or riff on copyrighted works.
Impersonation — Synthetic voices can mirror public figures, which risks deception.
Misinformation — Automated scripts without fact-checking can spread errors at scale.
Transparency — Few platforms force disclosure that an episode is AI-generated.
If regulators force tighter rules, the tiny profit margin on each episode could disappear. That would make the mass-production model unprofitable overnight. Alternatively, platforms could impose labelling and remove low-quality feeds. Either outcome would reshape the calculus.
How the industry can respond through practical moves
The ecosystem will not collapse overnight.
Label AI episodes clearly.
Use discovery algorithms that reward engagement, not volume.
Create paywalls, memberships, or time-listened metrics.
Use AI tools to help humans, not replace them.
Industry standards on IP and voice consent are needed to reduce legal exposure. Platforms and advertisers hold most of the cards here. They can choose to favour volume or to protect quality. Their choice will decide many creators’ fates.
Three short scenarios, then the point
Flooded and cheap — Platforms favour volume. Ads chase cheap reach. Many independent shows vanish, and audio becomes a sea of similar, useful, but forgettable feeds.
Regulated and curated — Disclosure rules and smarter discovery reward listener engagement. Human shows survive, and AI fills utility roles.
Hybrid balance — Creators use AI tools to speed up workflows while keeping control over voice and facts. New business models emerge that pay for depth.
All three are plausible. The industry will move towards the one that matches where platforms and advertisers put their money.
Can human podcasters survive the flood of robot-made showsiStock
New rules, old craft
Machines can mass-produce audio faster and cheaper than people. That does not make them better storytellers. It makes them efficient at delivering information. If you are a creator, your defence is simple: make content machines cannot copy easily. Tell stories that require curiosity, risk, restraint, and relationships. Build listeners who will pay for that difference.
If you are a platform or advertiser, your choice is also simple: do you reward noise or signal? Reward signal, and you keep what made podcasting special. Reward noise, and you get scale and a thinner, cheaper industry in return. Either way, the next few years will decide whether podcasting stays a human medium with tools or becomes a tool-driven medium with a few human highlights. The soundscape is changing. If human creators want to survive, they need to focus on the one thing machines do not buy: trust.
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