Success has a predictable digital footprint. First comes the win, then the trophy photos, and finally, the inevitable "blue checkmark benediction" on Instagram.

This week’s recipient of the industry hug is Boong, a film from Manipur that just snagged a BAFTA. And right on cue, Ayushmann Khurrana—the poster boy for "middle-of-the-road cinema with a conscience"—took to his Stories to share a note. "Always special to see," he wrote, followed by the kind of encouraging emojis that serve as the modern currency of peer approval. It’s a nice gesture. Truly. But in the hyper-accelerated churn of the attention economy, these public pat-on-the-backs feel less like genuine celebration and more like a mandatory software update for a celebrity’s brand.

Let’s talk about Boong. Directed by Lakshmipriya Devi, it’s a story rooted in the complexities of Manipur, a region the mainstream Indian film industry usually ignores unless they need a scenic backdrop for a rebel-themed thriller. The film won at the BAFTA Shorts category—a massive feat for a production that likely operated on a budget that wouldn’t cover the catering costs of a single Khurrana song-and-dance sequence in Europe.

That’s the specific friction here. We live in a media ecosystem where the "little film that could" has to travel all the way to London to get a gold-plated stamp of approval before the big players in Mumbai even bother to mention it on their feeds. It’s the classic colonial hangover, repackaged for the 1:1 aspect ratio. We wait for the West to tell us what’s good in our own backyard, and then we rush to the digital town square to claim we were fans all along.

Khurrana’s note is symptomatic of a larger trend: the curation of empathy. His brand is built on being the "everyman," the guy who supports the underdog. Posting about Boong fits the aesthetic. It’s low-effort, high-reward PR. It signals to his millions of followers that he’s tapped into the "real" art, while the algorithm ensures his post disappears in 24 hours, safely tucked away before it can interfere with the next scheduled post for a luxury watch or a grooming product.

Don't get me wrong. Visibility is the only thing that matters in a world where streaming services are more interested in "hours watched" than actual cultural merit. If a Khurrana shout-out gets three more people to Google "Manipur cinema," that’s a win. But it’s a hollow one. The trade-off for this kind of digital support is a flattening of the struggle. It turns a grueling, years-long journey of independent filmmaking into a bite-sized "heartwarming" moment for people scrolling while they wait for their oat milk lattes.

The industry loves a success story, but it hates the messiness that comes before it. It loves the BAFTA win; it doesn't love the lack of distribution for regional films or the fact that most Indian audiences will never see Boong on a big screen. Instead, they’ll see the Instagram Story. They’ll see the trophy. They’ll see the "always special" caption and feel a fleeting sense of nationalistic pride before swiping to a video of a golden retriever playing a piano.

This isn't just about one actor or one film. It’s about the way we consume excellence now. We’ve turned artistic triumph into a social media sub-genre. The "Note" has become a standardized template. It’s the PR equivalent of a "Thinking of You" card—generic, safe, and ultimately designed to make the sender look good.

Boong deserves better than being a fleeting slide in a celebrity’s highlights reel. It deserves a system where a win in London isn't the prerequisite for being noticed in Mumbai. It deserves a market that doesn't treat Manipuri stories as a niche curiosity to be applauded only when they’re draped in international prestige.

But that’s not the world we’re living in. We’re living in the world of the 24-hour cycle, where a heartfelt note is the cheapest way to buy cultural relevance without actually having to invest in the art itself.

If a film wins a BAFTA and a Bollywood star doesn't post about it on Instagram, did it even happen?