So, Shah Rukh Khan is finally getting his first National Film Award.

Yes, after thirty years of redefining cinema, of winning hearts across continents, of creating an empire on nothing but sheer talent and charm, the powers that be have finally remembered him. They’re dusting off an award and handing it to the man who’s been winning box office hits long before the jury woke up.

But that’s the tragedy of our awards in India. They don’t reward excellence. They validate your connections. Your close connection to the award giver. And reward for loyalty to them.

Talent? Commitment? Legacy? That’s for us fools who still believe merit matters.

Take a good look around. There’s an awards jungle sprouting across the country like monsoon fungus. The “Global Peace Ambassador Award,” handed to a man who once organised a blood donation camp. “Excellence in Leadership” given to a fellow who hasn’t led anything except maybe the housing society’s WhatsApp group.

And my favourite—the self-proclaimed “Doctor.”

Yes, the prefix that opens doors and inflates egos. I know someone—let’s call him Dr. Inkless—who proudly carries the title Doctor of Journalism. But the man hasn’t published a single article. Not a line, not a paragraph, not even a birthday message in a local tabloid.

He’s got the degree, alright, but even when replying on whatsapp, uses language unbecoming of a journalist, which should make anyone suspicious about his doctorate credentials.

But oh, how the world bows! Once “Dr.” is affixed before a name, facts go out of the window. You could be a doctor of slander, or gossip, but the public will still nod respectfully, forward your quotes on WhatsApp, and call you for chief guest duties at every second-rate function, which the so-called doctor glorifies on Facebook.

But you know what’s worse? We enable this.

We don’t ask questions. We don’t check credentials. We clap. We share. We worship titles, awards, and designations like they were carved on stone tablets from Mount Sinai.

Meanwhile, the real heroes—the tireless teachers, the fearless journalists, the unheard authors, the quietly brilliant filmmakers—remain unrewarded. Not because they lack talent, but because they refuse to play the game.

They don’t pay for awards. They don’t beg for titles. They simply do their job. And in today’s circus of recognition, that’s the biggest disqualification.

So, the next time someone flashes a ‘best seller’ plaque, a medal, or a “Dr.” before their name, don’t be impressed. Be curious. Be sceptical. Ask: Where’s the work? Where’s the merit? And if you don’t see it, tell them they’re frauds. Politely, but firmly.

Because when frauds are exposed, the honest are finally seen.

And to Shah Rukh—thank you for never needing this award to prove your worth. You were always a superstar, with or without state approval.

As for the rest of us—let’s learn to stop rewarding rewards. And start respecting real work again…!

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