And the Oscar kept going to Slumdog Millionaire.
Everyone got what they wanted. Anil Kapoor got photographed with the gold nude in his hand. Freida Pinto got a Hollywood agent. Dev Patel got Freida Pinto. And they all lived happily ever after as “good friends”.
It’s got something for everyone. Westerners want to see the slums. My kid wants to see the dog. We all want to see a story where a poor boy gets rich and gets the girl… but hey, isn’t that what every other Hindi film is about? What’s so great about….
…and then Rahman goes up on stage. And I have no more Q. or A. Just a big lump in my throat. Is this the best movie ever made? I don’t know. Is this the best song he’s ever made? I don’t care. If a boy with not much in his pocket but big dreams in his eyes, can today stand up with an Oscar in his hand… then the story’s turned out right.
It’s easy for me to be funny, or cynical, or droll. But it takes a moment like this to make me proud. So proud.