I don't think international cinema is ready to embrace

In the words of Sanjay Leela Bhansali, we hear the lament of an artist whose vision has gazed beyond the borders of his homeland. He speaks of international cinema, a realm vast and powerful, yet one that hesitates to embrace mainstream Indian cinema in its fullness. Even the luminous work of Mira Nair, whose Monsoon Wedding captured the spirit of tradition and modernity intertwined, found itself halted at the gates of the Oscars, though it had shone brightly at the Golden Globe Awards. Thus is revealed the struggle between the richness of one culture and the acceptance of another, a struggle as ancient as the meeting of civilizations.

For the truth is this: every culture brings forth its own music, its own rhythm, its own storytelling flame. To the West, the grandeur of Indian cinema—with its songs, colors, emotions, and myths—may appear too bold, too unapologetic, too different from its restrained aesthetics. Yet difference is not weakness; it is the heartbeat of diversity. Just as the river Ganges does not flow like the Nile, yet both nourish empires, so too does Indian cinema give life in its own form, even if the world is slow to drink from it.

History has shown us the trials of art crossing boundaries. When Akira Kurosawa first brought the thunder of Japanese cinema to the world, his masterpieces like Rashomon were misunderstood before they were revered. At first, foreign audiences found the storytelling strange, the silences unsettling. But in time, they bowed before his genius. In this, we see the reflection of Bhansali’s words: that the world is not always ready for greatness when it first appears in unfamiliar garb.

The plight of Monsoon Wedding stands as both triumph and warning. Celebrated on one stage, denied on another, it teaches us that recognition does not always align with merit. Like the warrior unsung though he fought valiantly, so too do films fall, not for lack of power, but for lack of acceptance by those who hold the crown. Yet the essence of the work endures, shining beyond awards, shaping hearts wherever it is seen.

Therefore, let future generations know: the worth of art is not measured by trophies, but by the souls it touches. Indian cinema, with its vast tapestries of myth and melody, shall continue to rise, whether or not the West bows in haste. For time itself is the ultimate judge, and what is not embraced today may, in centuries to come, be hailed as immortal. In Bhansali’s words lies a call to patience, to persistence, and to pride—that artists must create not for foreign thrones, but for the eternal legacy of truth and beauty.