Fame is a hungry parasite. It needs fresh blood to keep the host looking relevant, and right now, the most nutritious blood in the room belongs to Lakshmipriya Devi.

Her film, Boong, just snagged a BAFTA. That’s a massive win for a small Manipuri production, the kind of victory that usually gets buried under the weight of bloated, three-hour musical epics featuring men punching tigers. But the win isn't the only thing making noise. Kangana Ranaut—Bollywood’s permanent lightning rod and current Member of Parliament—took to Instagram to claim a slice of the moment. "Your time is here, my friend," she wrote.

It’s a classic move. The established power reaches down to pat the newcomer on the head, effectively framing the underdog's success as a win for the home team. But in the messy, high-friction world of Indian cinema, "friendship" is a heavy word.

Let’s be real. Making a film in Manipur isn't like shooting a rom-com in a Mumbai studio. It’s a logistical nightmare. You aren't just dealing with script issues; you're dealing with a region that has seen more than its fair share of internet shutdowns and civil unrest. While the elite of the industry are busy debating the best filters for their vacation photos, Devi was navigating a landscape where the basic tech infrastructure—the very stuff we take for granted—frequently just stops working.

The friction here isn't just about art. It’s about the price tag of visibility. Boong is a story about a young boy searching for his father, a narrative that breathes the air of the Northeast. It’s quiet. It’s specific. It’s the antithesis of the loud, nationalistic fever dreams that Ranaut often champions. To have a political figure like Ranaut embrace a film from a conflict-torn region feels less like a warm hug and more like a tactical maneuver.

It’s the digital equivalent of a photo op.

The tech side of this is even weirder. We live in an era where a film’s "importance" is measured by its trending status on X or its engagement metrics on Instagram. Ranaut knows this. She’s a master of the algorithm. By tagging Devi, she isn't just offering congratulations; she’s merging their SEO. Now, when you search for a BAFTA-winning director, you’re likely to find a headline about a controversial politician. It’s a parasitic relationship masquerading as a mentorship.

And what does Devi get out of it? In the short term, maybe a few thousand more followers and some eyes on a film that deserves them. In the long term, she’s now tethered to a brand that is, to put it mildly, polarizing. That’s a high cost for a "congrats" post.

The industry loves a success story, especially one it didn't have to fund. They love the "indie darling" narrative because it proves the system works, even when the system did everything in its power to ignore the Northeast for decades. Now that the hardware—the BAFTA trophy—is in hand, everyone wants a turn holding it.

But don't be fooled by the "my friend" rhetoric. The film world doesn't have friends; it has interests. Ranaut’s interest is in staying relevant as her own box office numbers dwindle and her political duties ramp up. Devi’s interest is simply in being heard.

It’s a lopsided trade. We see the glitz of the London red carpet, the shiny gold mask of the award, and the heartwarming social media captions. We don't see the years of struggle in a region that the central government—and the film industry—frequently treats as an afterthought. We don't see the tension of trying to create art in a place where the literal power goes out and the digital world is often a luxury, not a right.

Ranaut says the time is here. For whom, exactly? For a filmmaker who actually did the work, or for the celebrities who waited until the trophy was won to notice she existed?

It’s easy to cheer for a winner. It’s much harder to pay attention when they’re still in the trenches, fighting the very system that now wants to take credit for their endurance.

Maybe the real win isn't the award or the shoutout from a famous MP. Maybe the real win is that for once, the noise of the machine didn't drown out a story that actually had something to say.

But then again, how long until the algorithm finds a new "friend" to feast on?