Vikas Swarup with wife Aparna in Los Angeles

Los Angeles, Feb. 22: Vikas Swarup, the author of Q & A that has been turned into Slumdog Millionaire, has been denied a ticket in his own right to the red-carpet Oscar event.

“I am only going as someone’s guest,” said Swarup with a wry grin on arrival in Los Angeles yesterday, a day ahead of the Oscar ceremony.

He nodded at his artist wife Aparna standing by him and said: “So far she doesn’t have a ticket — but let’s see.”

Swarup let slip a wistful smile: “The author is the most dispensable part of the whole thing.”

Until the last minute, the author, who felt the organisers were not showing India “sufficient respect”, was not even sure he would bother to make the journey from Pretoria in South Africa where he is the deputy high commissioner.

Swarup was a diplomat based at the Indian high commission in London when he wrote Q & A “in the three months between July and September 2003”.

He laughed at the fickleness of fate: “Some authors have to write 40-50 drafts before their novel is accepted for publication. With mine, it’s the first draft.”

Aparna is not allowing the refusal of the organisers to give her husband a red-carpet ticket, so he could take himself “plus one”, to spoil her fun. “At least I can go to the after-Oscar party (that’s being given by an Indian, Krish Menon, who is big in LA),” she said.

Not for her western designer outfits in the style affected by Freida Pinto, the glamorous face of Slumdog Millionaire — “I am wearing a sari.”

And her husband? “Oh, he will wear Indian,” Aparna cut in. “He looks very smart in it.”

“A dark bandhgala for me,” confirmed Swarup.

As a senior Indian diplomat, Swarup had to pull strings to secure passports at the eleventh hour for some of the Mumbai child actors. “And then some strings were pulled at the state department in Washington to get them visas.”

Swarup said that now that he was in Los Angeles, all differences had been set to one side. “Danny (Boyle, the director) has sent me a sweet note, ‘You were there at the start. I am glad you will be there at the end’.”

Swarup is not the only one. Television teams from India feel disenchanted that all have been denied positions by the side of the famous red carpet which would have allowed them to interview the stars before they disappear into the Kodak Theatre from where the Oscar ceremony is telecast live to the world.

One even accused the Academy of Motion Pictures and Sciences, which handles media accreditation, of “downright racism – what else can you call it?”, though this was going too far. The Indian TV companies, who were desperate to cover the Oscars only after January 22 when Slumdog received 10 nominations, had been caught out by the rule which required all applications for red carpet positions had to be sent in by November last year.

“In India, we would somehow have managed – now we have all these people from India going down the red carpet and no one to interview them properly,” said one aggrieved presenter. “I have been trying since January but the Academy press people won’t budge.”

Another presenter voiced equal resentment: “This is a great moment for India – but we are not being allowed to cover it. They refuse to show any flexibility.”

The children are, as promised, are having a fun time, though. Yesterday, they were taken to the Universal Studios “where we loved everything, and I mean everything”, said one.

They were given “good security” to keep away paparazzi “chasing us on motorcycles” – a new experience for little Rubina Ali and Mohammed Azharuddin Ismail.

Last night, they attended an impromptu party at the Oscar team hotel – Swarup has been booked at another hotel – where Freida mothered them, while Boyle, an exceedingly warm character like his producer, Christian Coulson, joined them for “happy family photographs”.

Anil Kapoor enthusiastically waded into the group.

Stars some of them might be in their own land but the arrival of the Indians is giving a headache to the telephone operators and the hotel reception.

“May I direct your call?”

“May I speak to Anil Kapoor, please?”

“What is the last name?”

“Kapoor.”

“Is that with a ‘C’?”