Imagine. You are dressed in your finest Gucci ensemble. Near about 50 photographers are calling your name and clicking you away. You smile for the cameras while making sure every detail of your look is just right. Then you step on to the stage and greet the room, in Britain, no less, once the land of colonisers. You say, "Namaskar" while addressing Hollywood's finest, letting your mother tongue echo through a space long dominated by Western voices. All of it held together by your trust in your own sense of style. No, this isn't about you.