Imagine this: you’ve poured your heart and soul into a film, spent months, maybe years bringing it to life, and then you hear that Nepal has chosen its official Oscar entry. Instead of excitement, what you feel is shock. Why? Because you never even got the chance to apply. That’s the storm swirling around this year’s selection of Anjila, a film by Milan Chams, which was initially announced as Nepal’s contender for the Academy Awards in the “Best International Feature” category.

At first, the news sounded like a win for Nepali cinema. After all, having a film represent Nepal on one of the biggest global stages is something every filmmaker and movie lover dreams about. But soon, frustration began to flood social media. Directors, producers, and audiences started questioning how the decision was made. Was the process transparent? Was it fair? And most importantly, were all filmmakers even given an equal shot?

Take director Samundra Bhatta, for example. She openly expressed her disappointment that her movie Gunyo Cholo was left out. For her, it wasn’t just about losing, it was about how the whole selection was handled. Bhatta pointed out that some members of the jury had direct connections with Anjila, raising concerns about conflicts of interest. In her eyes, it felt less like a fair competition and more like an inside game.

And she wasn’t alone. Deepak Rauniyar, another respected filmmaker, revealed that he didn’t even know the application process had started. According to him, the committee only gave a nine-day window for filmmakers to submit their films; a ridiculously short period compared to past years. In previous selections, applications were announced more widely, and filmmakers had enough time to prepare. This time, it felt rushed, almost as if only a select few were meant to know.

The outrage grew louder, spilling across social media. Accusations of secrecy, bias, and rushed deadlines tarnished what should have been a moment of pride. Soon, the controversy caught the attention of the Film Development Board. Producers of Gunyo Cholo formally complained, demanding the decision be reviewed. In response, the Board called both sides: those supporting Anjila, and those raising objections, for talks.

Then came the twist: the selection committee hit pause. Instead of pushing forward, they decided to re-open the call for submissions for an additional five days. Chairman Bimal Paudel admitted that dissatisfaction was natural and hinted that a re-evaluation was on the table. In other words, Anjila’s Oscar journey isn’t secure just yet. The announcement that once seemed final has now been suspended, leaving Nepal’s official entry in limbo.

Globally, even Wikipedia’s list of Oscar entries flagged the controversy, noting that Nepal withdrew its initial decision after complaints of irregularities. What started as a single film’s victory has now become a larger debate about fairness, transparency, and the credibility of Nepali cinema on the world stage.

This secrecy has become the heart of the controversy. For many, the Oscars aren’t just about sending any film, it’s about showcasing the best of Nepal to the world. When the process feels closed off or rushed, it risks damaging the credibility of not just the selection committee but also Nepal’s standing in international cinema. After all, how can we expect global audiences to take our stories seriously if our own system doesn’t seem serious about fairness?

Young cinephiles in Nepal are watching this drama unfold with mixed emotions. The bigger question this controversy raises is about the future of Nepali cinema. If the selection process doesn’t improve, will filmmakers lose faith? Will new talent feel discouraged to even try? For a generation that dreams of putting Nepali stories on the global map, this isn’t just about one film, it’s about building trust in the system.

Right now, the spotlight isn’t just on Anjila, it’s on the committee, the Board, and the way Nepal handles its Oscar dream. At the end of the day, everyone wants the same thing: to see Nepali cinema thrive internationally.  But for that to happen, the journey has to be as honest as the destination.  Maybe this uproar will push the system toward change. Maybe next year, the process will be more open, more transparent, and more deserving of the global stage. Because in the end, sending a film to the Oscars shouldn’t just feel like a win for a few insiders, it should feel like a win for all of Nepali cinema