A name sparked a storm. In a charged press conference on Bigg Boss OTT 3, Armaan Malik looked straight at the cameras and said, "I am Hindu. You might be assuming otherwise because of my name." The content creator, who entered the reality show with both his wives—Payal and Kritika—has been at the center of a polygamy debate that quickly moved from social media chatter to prime-time talking point.
He added a key detail many viewers didn’t know: his birth name is Sandeep Malik. He adopted the name Armaan about 14 years ago for professional reasons. That rebrand, he says, is why people assumed he had converted to Islam—an assumption he flatly denies. Inside the show’s press meet, the line of questioning was blunt: how does he define his relationship with two wives, and what does that mean under Indian law?
The exchange turned tense when he told a reporter, “I have kept both of them.” The journalist corrected him: “They are your wives.” That moment set the tone for the larger argument—language, power, consent, and the legal framework around marriage. It also reminded everyone that reality TV can drag private choices into a very public court of opinion.
Payal Malik has tried to close one loop. In earlier interviews, she said there was no conversion, no hidden faith switch. “He belongs to a Jatt family. He is not a Muslim,” she said. She also spoke honestly about the emotional fallout when Kritika entered their lives after eight years together. “Yes, I felt wronged,” she admitted, before adding that she remains the first priority in the family, a claim she says Kritika respects. The hierarchy she described—Payal first, then Kritika—has fueled even more debate about agency and fairness inside their home.
If you’ve followed Indian pop culture, the name “Armaan Malik” might ring a different bell—the popular playback singer. They are not the same person. The man in the Bigg Boss house is a YouTuber and influencer who built a large following with family vlogs and lifestyle content. The stage name overlap has added to the confusion, especially for casual viewers who landed on the story midstream.
Their entry into Bigg Boss OTT 3 amplified everything. The format is designed for friction: confrontations, confessions, and competing narratives. Casting a couple—actually, a trio—at the center of a polygamy controversy was always going to set off fireworks. The show’s “press conference” episode, where journalists grill contestants, pushed those sparks into a blaze. Words matter on television, and the words said here lingered.
In India, names often act as shorthand for identity. When the surname, the first name, or a screen name aligns with a religious community, people jump to conclusions. Armaan’s on-camera denial—“I am Hindu”—wasn’t just a personal clarification. It reset a core assumption driving the controversy: that he had converted to Islam to make multiple marriages legally possible.
That assumption matters because religious personal law can change the legal picture for marriage in India. Under Muslim personal law, polygamy is allowed under specific conditions. Under Hindu personal law, it is not. If Armaan was Muslim, public opinion would still be split on morality, but the legal argument would be different. By stating he is Hindu and never converted, he placed his personal life squarely inside a legal framework that presumes monogamy.
There’s also the wider social context. Influencer culture sells access—audiences feel they know these families because they watch their everyday lives. That closeness makes viewers more vocal about what they think is right or wrong. When the family-influencer model meets a reality show built on conflict, every choice looks like a statement. The religious label became a proxy for a bigger fight about law, consent, and the image presented to millions.
Payal’s remarks show how messy the human side can be. She said she left her home for him, depended on him for years, and then had to accept another partner. She now calls herself “the boss of their house.” It’s a power claim, but also a shield. For supporters, it signals harmony; for critics, it raises questions about whether a “boss” is needed if everyone is equal. Either way, it turned a private negotiation into a public hierarchy.
There’s also the lingering detail that Armaan reportedly had a prior marriage that ended before he married Payal and later Kritika. That thread hasn’t been fully pulled on TV, but it widens the timeline and invites legal and social scrutiny of how each relationship started and was recognized.
Here’s the plain-language version of the legal debate many viewers are now having at home.
So where does that leave this family? Without official paperwork in the public domain, it’s guesswork. Critics argue that openly calling two women “wives” while identifying as Hindu raises legal red flags. Supporters say all three are consenting adults managing their home on their terms. Both views are loud online. The law, though, is not about volume; it’s about documents and timelines.
The optics are another story. When Armaan said “I have kept both of them,” it struck a nerve. The phrasing sounded like possession. He was corrected on the spot, but the clip keeps circulating. For many women watching, language like that confirms what they fear in such setups—power imbalances that are easy to mask on camera and hard to live with off it.
Bigg Boss OTT 3 thrives on such clashes. The season, hosted by Anil Kapoor, has leaned into moments that force contestants to clarify their brand. For Armaan, that meant religion, marriages, and how he speaks about his partners. For Payal and Kritika, it meant showing solidarity in public while acknowledging old wounds. The show gives them airtime; the internet gives them scrutiny.
There’s a business angle too. Influencers depend on trust for ad deals. Family-first content sells because it feels safe. A public fight about polygamy, legality, and religion doesn’t fit the usual brand brief. Some sponsors like controversy; most don’t. What happens to their partnerships after this season will say a lot about where the creator economy draws its lines.
Then there’s the cultural split. A chunk of the audience sees three adults choosing their life together and says, “Their house, their rules.” Another chunk points to Indian law and asks why TV is normalizing something that isn’t legally permitted for most citizens. Both groups claim the moral high ground. The show has made room for both, because conflict keeps people watching and voting.
Religious identity, meanwhile, remains the lightning rod. Armaan’s insistence that he is Hindu—and that he never converted—knocks out one pillar of the early rumor mill. But it raises a tougher one: if the question isn’t faith, it’s legality. And legality isn’t settled by a TV exchange. It needs paperwork and due process, neither of which play well in a 60-second clip.
What’s certain is that this story won’t fade fast. The family’s online audience is invested. The show’s format will keep testing them. And the argument about what’s legal, what’s moral, and what’s just television will keep looping back to that first sentence at the press conference: “I am Hindu.” In a country where a name can decide a headline, that line was both a correction and a challenge to everyone making assumptions from their screens.