Horror!

In much of Indian cinema, horror as a genre has been reduced to camp, over the top, either too costumy or showing nudity, bad acting and nerve tearing storyline. It never quite reaching the reputation that it rightfully deserves. The Indian film industry has always been accused of copying Hollywood shamelessly in almost every genre whether action, musicals or not to forget horror as well.

Hollywood on the other hand most certainly created some benchmark that cannot be denied, however Indian cinema, over a period of time, has produced some amazing horror films as well as the B grade Ramsay Brothers horror too.

We have not always blindly micmic that genre of western aesthetic and that need to be mentioned loudly and clearly. 

Here are few such Indian horror films (precisely from A-classic to B-grade), according to me, that got it right.

Mahal, 1949, Directed by Kamal Amrohi

Lead roles: Ashok Kumar and Madhubala.

It was India's first reincarnation thriller film, Mahal is a story of reincarnation and a ghost story. In Allahabad, there is a beautiful abandoned palace. When a new owner, Hari Shankar (Ashok Kumar), comes to live in this palace, the old gardener narrates the story of incomplete love.

40 years ago, a man built it and his lover, Kamini (Madhubala), began to live in it. She would wait all day long for the man to come to her at midnight, but he always left before it was morning. One stormy night, the man's ship sank and he drowned. Before leaving Kamini, he tells her that their love will never fail. A few days later, Kamini also died. What happens next is all suspense, drama and fear.

The film is perhaps most famous for launching the career of one of the greatest figures in film history, Lata Mangeshkar. The most famous song, ‘Aayega aanewala’  is almost the theme of the film, the certainty that the lover will return, while a song where the seemingly endless repetition of the future tense ‘he will come’ reminds the listener that this is a film which eschews the present. The first time the song begins, we see the clock hands reach two (The film does not state explicitly why the clock strikes two as the owner used to visit his lover at midnight and leave before dawn. 'Two' is the number of the couple and 'Two' is also a double, and the couple becomes a double with the supposed reincarnation.), and instead of a chime, two piano chords sound, as they will in all the future versions we hear.

Madhumati, 1958, Directed by Bimal Roy

Lead roles: Dilip Kumar and Vyjantimala.

This Bimal Roy’s 1958 film focuses on Anand (Dilip Kumar), a modern man who falls in love with a tribal woman named Madhumati (Vyjantimala). They are unable to have a relationship during their lifetimes and are reincarnated.

Simple right. You might also say whats spooky about it. Well read more….

To begin with, Madhumati was one of the first Hindi films to use the now-common "narrative of the plain-based hero entering the mountains and being seduced by a tribal girl.

Madhumati is visual poetry, it’s a vivid play of lights-and-shadows and draws thematically from Kamal Amrohi’s 1949-horror Mahal, this Dilip Kumar-Vyjayanthimala starrer is a beast of its own.

The indoors of the mansion that Dilip Kumar’s character stumbles upon bleeds into the outer reality that he imagines as his past. Cinematographer Dilip Gupta blends the two worlds with such seamlessness, it’s all the more impressive when you think this was achieved in 1958. Many frames in the film evoke the dark, hyper-expressive aesthetic almost like a poetry in motion.

Bimal Roy's masterstrokes are evident when you watch the long shadows of trees falling on that stone with fascination.

Madhumati soundtrack features eleven songs composed by Salil Chowdhury. The music and the tonal correctness of the performances hold us in thrall even today.

Later on the film narrative became a source of inspiration for many later works dealing with reincarnation in Indian cinema, Indian television, and perhaps world cinema. Bravo!

Kohraa, 1964, Directed by Biren Nag

Lead roles: Waheeda Rehman and Biswajit.

Kohraa means mist, and the story is just as hazy, vague and clueless about its progression as its title. After widower Raja Amit Singh (Biswajeet) marries a village orphan Rajeshwari (Waheeda Rehman) and brings her to his palatial residence, she is witness to some weird experiences whenever her husband is away on tour. With shadows lurking in every corner and windows opening up on their own, Rajeshwari learns that Amit had killed his first wife on account of her betrayal and the spirits are out to avenge her killing! 

After several inconsequential episodes, just when a court is about to punish Amit for his crime, his elderly maidservant Dai Ma (Lalita Pawar) reveals how she had murdered the former landlady on account of her infidelity. Yet there are no explanations given for the crazy experiences undergone by the second lady of the mansion!

Though the story is excruciatingly slow and meandering in its conclusion, one has to admire Nag's execution which doesn't allow boredom to set in despite the story leading nowhere, as also the marvellous set designing done by G.L. Jadhav and T.K. Desai which helps heighten the sinister atmosphere of the grandiose environment. While they did win the Filmfare Award for Art Designing, it must be said that the effect could not have been so spectacular were it not for the marvellous photography by Marshall Braganza. “Kohraa” was enormously dependent on “solemn atmosphere” to involve the viewer, and Braganza did that by creating an ambience of opulence as well as disturbing evil with the right mix of light, shade and lenses. Aided by Nag's precise shot taking, Braganza conquers since viewers do not realise the giant buildings are merely blown up versions of miniature models.

The film was adapted from Daphne du Maurier's 1938 novel Rebecca, which was previously adapted by Alfred Hitchcock as Academy Award-winning Rebecca (1940), though some supernatural elements were added to it, including a few from the movie Psycho. This version is famous for its twist ending, which differs significantly from that of the original novel.

Gehrayee, 1980, Directed by Vikas Desai and Aruna Raje

Lead roles: Anant Nag, Padmini Kolhapure (as a child artist) Dr Shriram Lagoo and Amrish Puri.

Based on a real life experience, on the surface, it is about a family where the father Chennabassappa (Dr. Shreeram Lagoo) has a scientific approach towards life. The god fearing and extremely superstitious mother (Indrani Mukherjee), on the other hand, believes in the ritualistic side of religion. One day their adolescent daughter Umakka (Padmini Kolhapure) gets possessed by a spirit and they have no clue what to do about it. Their elder son Nandu (Anant Nag) is rational but he can’t remain one when he sees the condition of his sister keeps deteriorating despite medical help. 

So where does environment come into the spooky picture? Early in the film, Chennabassappa goes to his native village to tell the poor caretaker (Suhas Bhalekar) that he has sold his farm to a factory. The caretaker wails that he could not do this to him as the land is like his mother. Chennabassappa takes it lightly and offers him a job in Bangalore. But the battered soul could not take it and as we discover later decides to seek revenge by planting an evil spirit in Chennabassappa’s daughter.

Chennabasappa is a rationalist, who is more like an atheist and doesn't believe in anything that's beyond sensory perception. He is a hard-headed fellow who is bossy at both office and home. As the story progresses, we see Uma behaving strangely. She would speak something of Chennabasappa's unspeakable and totally unknown dark past. During one such revelation, the family members come to know that Chennabasappa had seduced Baswa's wife while he was a teenager. Baswa's wife got pregnant and jumped into a well to save herself from the horrible Indian society traumas.

Chennabasappa tries every medication and treatment that would bring Uma back to normal, but nothing works out. Unfortunately, the family also becomes the target of several fake exorcists, who start milking them with their evasive talks but do no good to hapless Uma. In one such instance, the family is fooled by a Tantrik Puttachari (Amrish Puri), who actually tries to harness Uma's virginity to resurrect his own devil. However, his plans fail when Nandish interrupts in between and saves Uma.

Finally the family finds peace in the hands of a mighty but sane Tantrik Shashtri (Sudhir Dalvi), who discovers the roots of evil in Chennabasappa's house itself, a spell cast on a lemon and an ugly voodoo doll. Shashtri orders the soul inside Uma's body to reveal its identity and we come to know that the unholy spirit was actually sent to Uma by a village Tantrik whom Baswa paid for this heinous act. Uma turns to normal after few days.

Veerana, 1988, Directed by Ramsay Brothers

Lead roles: Jasmine, Sahila Chadda and Hemant Birje

Talking of Indian horror films and not mentioning any of Ramsay brothers movie is like coming out of a Indo-Chinese restaurant without eating Manchuria! Illogical as it may sound but that is the hard fact.

I really don’t want to get any preconceived notions about the Bollywood film industry, because Veerana is one of my first experiences with it, but man – this stuff is weird. The transitions between scenes in this film is some of the most confusing I’ve ever seen, directors Shyam and Tulsi Ramsay never cares about finishing a scene up before the film throws itself to the next twisted segment. There’s some intriguing parts here featuring possession and witches, but unfortunately the film mixes that with so many other things that it just becomes a distasteful soup in the end.

Like comedic segments and musical numbers appearing at random, they’re funny in the completely wrong way and constantly breaks any spell of atmosphere that the horror element might create. Because yeah, Veerana does have some of that hidden underneath everything and it’s the highlight of the film. With weird imagery (but nothing like The Boxer’s Omen which I saw earlier this year) and a design making up for some cheap props the film can really become intriguing and shows of some great witch-makeup.

There’s also some great music by Bappi Da in the film and the design creates a thick atmosphere and amazing mood – but the film loses that and its characters between hilariously weird imagery and a plot that constantly launches recklessly between different parts without any seeming rhyme or reason.

That is the set-up of Veerana. If you dig lurid lighting, dramatic eye-region zooms, groovy witch-cults, horned deities and can tolerate attempts at off-color broad humor, song/dance numbers that seem redolent both of the early 60's and the 1980's, you will more than likely enjoy this movie. I certainly did.

All said the film is pretty sexy for an Indian horror movie and considering the censorship regulations of our country (or just because of that!). The leading actress was definitely a show!

Raat, 1992, Directed by Ram Gopal Verma

Lead roles: Revathi, Rohini Hattangadi and Om Puri

is a 1992 Indian Hindi-Telugu bilingual supernatural horror film written and directed by Ram Gopal Varma.

The winning point according to me was the perfect casting of Revathi in the role of the protagonist.  

But it wasn't the story of the film that had something spectacular, it was the way the story was told. The film is about a haunted house where a family moves in. The college-going girl, also the protagonist (played by Revathi), gets possessed by the spirit of the house and starts harming and killing those around her.

In a short story summary, there is nothing outstanding about the story but yet Raat manages to remain outstanding and the credit for the same goes to RGV.

It is the film's technical plus points that are to be credited for its cult status.

The long takes consistently followed a character that made the audience invest so deeply that a jump scare actually made us jump. The camera acted like a second person and even though we did't see the ghost of the house (for almost the entirety of the film), the director made us believe in its existence by shaking the camera just enough.

The scene where Revathi's character is shown sitting in a movie theatre but then is shown running to the manager's cabin makes us buy into the psychological thriller. The innocent and docile way in which the spirit possessed Revathi accepts killing her best friend is eerily convincing.

That being said, the background music, composed by Mani Sharma, of the film was simply outstanding. It added to the supernatural vibe of the movie. The music builds up when something big is about to happen and even though it prepares the audience for the incoming shock, it still manages to shock us.

RGV has spun the web of horror played with confusion, dilemma, and the plight of the affected persons to the greatest extent possible, as required of a horror movie.

Tumbbad, 2018, Directed by Rahi Anil Barve.

Lead roles: Sohum Shah, Jyoti Malshe and others.

In the rural village of Tumbbad, a decaying castle hides an immeasurable ancestral fortune guarded by something ancient, sinister, and monstrous. Vinayak thinks he can control it, but how long will it be until his own greed destroys everything he’s built?

In the rural village of Tumbbad, young Vinayak has heard the stories of an ancient fortune held by his family for years, but is warned against attempting to attain the treasure lest he fall victim to the demon who guards it. He instead cares for his great-grandmother, a decrepit crone who must remain sated or her appetites might just claim them all. When she dies and he inherits the treasures housed inside a decaying estate, Vinayak discovers that they are not exactly what he expected, but instead an endless bounty protected by a vengeful and ravenous fallen god.

Years later, adult Vinayak (Sohum Shah) has learned to manipulate the god so he can sneak out his boundless fortune one coin at a time. However, it’s not enough, and soon a cycle of greed envelops his family. Their avarice threatens to destroy what he has built with the fortune stolen from the terrible creature that lives in the bowels of the castle, and soon enough he learns the terrible, violent secrets of Tumbbad.

No song and dance here, TUMBBAD is an ambitious period film that will turn any preconceived notion of Indian horror on its head. Producer, star, and primary creative force Sohum Shah delivers what is undoubtedly the most exciting pure horror film made in India in at least thirty years. TUMBBAD is the story of a legacy of greed and avarice that spans India’s colonial history from the early part of the 20th century, through its independence in 1947 and beyond. This one will stick with you. 

Stree, 2018, Directed by Amar Kaushik.

Lead roles: Rajkumar Rao, Shraddha Kapoor and Pankaj Tripathi.

So naive are the people of Chanderi, they believe the moon — called Chanda Mama in fairytales — is literally their uncle. So says a book of village lore hidden inside a copy of the Kamasutra in the local library. Many of its pages have been folded into paper-boats, but the book matters because Chanderi is under attack from a female spirit. Sighted on the four nights of the annual puja, she abducts only the menfolk while leaving their clothes behind. Beware, boys who walk home alone at night.

It is Shraddha Kapoor, surprisingly enough, who brings a certain charm to her initially inscrutable character, but once the film gives her more to do, she struggles in comparison to the fine actors who surround her. Khurana is wonderful as a guy who sells readymade clothing and believes in only filling fifty bucks worth of petrol in his bike at a time, while much of the show is stolen by Banerjee, a gangly actor with a zany and unpredictable energy. Tripathi is a fine choice to play that horror-movie cliché — the wise man who knows all and guides the heroes to their destiny — simply because he can render any line irresistible, but it is disappointing to watch him spell out the basics of the local legend to young men who have grown up in that town and should know better.

Stree is like a blind date that turns out well - a tryst with the unexpected filled with exciting surprises. It is a thought-provoking laughathon-cum-spookathon, and one of the most unusual Bollywood films of the year so far.

Nomadics of Telangana

I remember coming across some of them while growing up in New Malakpet (now comes under the old city of Hyderabad) in 1980s. and got enchanted by their captivating ’appearance and clothing’.

One certainly cannot miss their typically tall stature, oval face, black and brown eyes, long silky hair, straight nose and wheatish complexion and not to miss their heavy metal jewellery, armful of ivory bangles, and clothes embellished with tiny pieces of mirrors. The men and women, both equally strong, muscular and hard-working, and are blessed with a lot of endurance.

I, again, do not distinctly remember how I came across them, I mean I did not see them working at a construction site or as house-maids or in any procession during festivals. I sincerely don’t recollect but I have definitely seen them wandering in the lanes and by-lanes of the area where I lived, from time to time.

They are Lambada (aka Banjaras. Lambada is the Telugu title for Banjaras) of Hyderabad, most precisely belonging to the Telangana region now.

Their history may not be found in books, their art and culture may not be framed or described anywhere, but the Lambadas are a unique tribe that has imbibed into their tradition something from every part of the country. 

Today, the Lambada tribe may live on the fringes of society, but, historically, they played a very important role everywhere they went. In a country with a diverse cultural heritage, the Banjaras are best known for their migration from one place to another in search of trade.

Usually nomadic in nature, the tribes of Rajasthan are called Banjaras, they migrated and settled in the then ‘out skirts’ of Hyderabad. Since the area was a hilly one, it became known as Banjara Hills. Although there is no evidence that these Banjaras/Lambadas served Qutb Shahi kings, however it is noteworthy that one of the gates of Golconda was given the name ‘Banjara Darwaza’. Probably to honour them. Interesting.

Again no strong evidence but “Bhagyanagar was named after a Banjaran dancing girl, Bhagmathi who belonged to the village Chichlam. When Muhammad Quli Qutub Shah was a prince, he fell in love with her. A few years later, after his accession to the throne of Gloconda, he founded a new city and named it Bhagnagar.”

Also Banjaran language known as Gor boli or Lambadi also called Banjari, is a confluence of Sanskrit, Hindi, Marwari, Gujarati, Kannada and Telugu and bears the influence of the regional language of the place where they stay. For example, members in Hyderabad obviously adopted few words from the Deccani Urdu-Telugu dialect in their speech, even if they don’t have that particular word in their language.

Saying it with clothes

Banjara women’s attire is very fancy, colourful and attractive. One can identify them from a far distance due to this. Their jewellery is made out of silver; in case they lack the funds to buy silver, they make their jewellery with coins, steel and other metals. The only gold accessory they have is the nose pin.

Their men, on the other hand, have it fairly simple in terms of clothing. They wear dhoti and a kurta with a bright-coloured turban which is designed according to the climate of the desert. But, with time, the youngsters have taken to western clothes. Now, only the older generation wears such clothes; only 20 per cent wear the traditional attire and most of them are above 60 years of age. 

Maybe in another decade, one might have to check books and browse the internet to find more about their tradition, culture and of course culinary.

The Lips Of Shah Hussain

We have created the human being in the throes of loss.

Does he think that none have power over him?

He says, "I have lost mass of wealth!"

Does he think that none is watching over him?

Haven't we made for him two eyes, a tongue and two lips?

And guided him to two places of safety in distress?

- Qur'an 90:4-10

I first happened to read about this Sufi saint in the book titled Sufis & Saints' Bodies by Scott Kugle and since then got hooked to it like a 'mad' lover. Although for personal reasons, I am not much into Sufi Saints but then given a chance I would love to visit THE shrine of this saint for obvious reasons. In fact the 'story' had such a MAGICAL effect on me mentally that I secretly was hoping that someone will make a film on him and cast me as Shah Hussain and Inder as Madho. HAHAHA!

Anyways, coming back to this Sufi Saint, Shah Hussain was born in 1538 in Lahore, Pakistan. His father Sheikh Usman was a Kulsara (a clan of Rajput), and by occupation he was a weaver (in some of Shah Hussain poetic rhymes he used his pen name as Fakhir Hussain Julaha which means "Saint Hussain The Weaver"). During his early age, his father enrolled him in a local school where Hussain started to memorise the Holy Qur’an. His teacher was Hafiz Abubak'r. It was in 1548 at the age of 10, a renowned Sufi master Sheikh Bahlol Qadri (d.1575) met Hussain and became his mentor.

One day in the holy month of Ramadan his mentor asked Hussain to fetch water for him from the nearby river called Ravi. Hussain went to the river and there he met Al-Khidr (Green One. Considered to be the one who possess mystic knowledge) who blessed him. Miraculously that night, Hussain recited the whole Qur'an in Tarawih (the special midnight prayers in Ramadan) while in reality, Hussain has only memorised 7 parts of the Qur'an by then. Soon this 'miraculous' news spread like a wildfire in the whole city. 

Sheikh Bahlol, after some time, went to his town and directed Shah Hussain to regularly visit the Ali Hijwiri shrine in Lahore. Every night, religiously, Hussain, used to stand in the river Ravi to recite the whole Qur'an until Fajr (early morning prayer) and then visits the shrine of Ali Hijwiri wherein till Zohar (the afternoon prayer) he will recites the whole Qur'an once again. He said to have never missed a single congregation prayer. 

One fine day, while he was still studying the Tafsir (interpretation), he came across the verse from Qur'an The life of the world is nothing but play and pleasurable distraction. This verse suddenly struck Hussain as profound truth that went out of the masjid and abandoned the path of ascetic to stepped into the path of self-blamers and started to dance and drink wine in public. Notably since then Hussain started wearing a deep-red-colour robe depicting his love for wine. 

In this state, a second dramatic event took place that shaped Hussain's subsequent life. He came across a Brahmin youth named Madho and fell passionately in love with him. Madho, in his all youthfulness, was obviously unaware of Hussain's 'madness' towards him. Hussain wandered restless with this incendiary love yet Madho never even glanced his way once. Finally on the day of Holi, Madho stooped to show sincere kindness and a courteous face to Hussain. Seeing the magic in his eyes, Madho strode up to Hussain shyly, and threw colours over his head and shoulders, and as Madho poured colour, his body arched in dance before Hussain. Hussain in his longing, took on a lively air, matching his steps with Madho. The ice of social convention finally broken, the two became intimate, and Hussain slowly persuaded Madho to trust him, first as a friend and then as a lover and finally as a spiritual guide.

Madho's Brahmin parents and his extended family did not accept this dangerous intimacy and ordered to assassinate Hussain. However, the two continued to meet and grew closer. At one point, Madho's family planned a pilgrimage to the Ganges at Haridwar and urge him to come along in the bargain that he will get over Hussain. However Madho refused and stayed back in Lahore with Hussain, but Hussain, in a miracle, took Madho from Lahore to Haridwar in one step as a reconciliation with his family.

Eventually, Madho was convinced of the sincerity of Hussain's love for him. Not wasting any time, Hussain offered Madho to 'initiate' him into his own personal brand of sensual mysticism, through his lips. He invited Madho to spend a day or two with him in his hut, drinking wine and making love.

After this erotic initiation, Madho began to live with Hussain at Baghbanpur. Hussain defends their sexual play as a 'spiritual initiation' in which Hussain passed on to Madho the spark of 'divine love' through touch and kiss.

Shah Hussain spent the second half of his life under Emperor Akbar’s rule, during which, the Mughal capital was moved to Lahore (1584-1599). According to historical accounts, Prince Salim (who later ruled under the name of Jahangir) ordered one of his officials to write a diary of whatever Hussain did or said every day. 

Some argue this was done due to reverence while others claim that it was to keep an eye on him because of Hussain’s large following and outright denial of religious orthodoxy.

When Shah Hussain reached the age of 63 in 1008 AH (1599), he left this material world, and before his death, he predicted that his first shrine will be built in Shahdara (located near river Ravi), "then after 12 years a flood will appear in the river that will reach to my shrine and then my grave will be shifted to Babupura" (now Baghbanpura in Lahore; the Shalimar Gardens). He further predicted that his beloved Madho Lal will sit on his seat for 48 years after his death.

As the saint predicted, Madho Lal, for the rest of his life, followed the footsteps of Shah Hussain thus completely secluding himself from the world and further confining himself into the shrine of his master. In 1056 AH (1647) at the age of 73, Madho died and was buried next to Shah Hussain.

The Annual (mostly celebrated on the 24th of March) Urs celebrations held at his shrine in Lahore every year. Devotees and spectators from across the country visit the shrine of Shah Hussain (which also came to be known as Madho Lal Hussain) to attend the Urs that continues for consecutive four days.

The Urs is traditionally characterised by lighting of candles and clay lamps, sufi music and devotional dance, no wonder Hussain is among one of the greatest Punjabi poets till date and is counted among Lahore’s patron saints.

Such examples tell us that the problems of ignorance and intolerance faced by the world can only be tackled through Sufism because It holds the key for accepting polarities and disagreements with open arms. This is what we direly require for making this world a better place to live in.

Some of Shah Hussain poetry, beautifully rendered by Abida Parveen, are available on YouTube.

Filmy Chakkar!

When someone asks what you remember the most about your childhood, you will say, apart from the usual school memories and fun with friends, the movies you watched with your family. Those Sunday afternoons or evenings when the whole lot went to see the new blockbusters. Your dad rushing everyone at home because: “Houseful hogaya to phir se black mein ticket lena padhta, iske wastey jaldi chaloi ji!” In my case it was my mother. She was a total movie buff. 

Those were the days when movie-goers used to wait in long queues outside the booking counters at theatres, week in advance, to get tickets to movies of their favourite cine stars. The excitement was palpable – the huge hand-painted posters and cut-outs, the first-day crowds, the eagerness of grabbing your seats inside the theatre and not missing the beginning.

Back in those days Hyderabad had quite a lot of twin-theather concept. Consisting of 35mm and 70mm in the same compound, showcasing two different films at any given time (hence it was guaranteed that you will end up watching some or the other film ultimately and not going back home dishearten). 

It's also notable that the 35mm screens were relatively small showcasing less popular films while the 70mm consists of gigantic screen where all big budget (essentially all starring Mr Bachchan Sr) films would be screened at.

Most of these twin-theatres were in the vicinity of Kachiguda to Abids road of Hyderabad city including Santosh-Sapna, Shaheen-Farheen (later changed to Surya), Venkatramana-Prabhat, Ramakrishna twin-talkies and the famous Maheshwari-Parmeshwari to name a few. 

RTC X Roads too had numerous twin-theatres but we would rarely go there as they were reserved only for Telugu films. However when I grew up, I have seen equally many movies in those theatres with my friends.

Needless to say I remember almost all the theatres however these WERE few of my most favourite ones…

1. Maheshwari and Parmeshwari: These twin theatres came up in the 80s and showcased only Hindi films. They soon came to be known as The Glamour Queens of Hyderabad. Owned by T Subbirami Reddy, these twin-theatres became famous for their decor and architecture, not to forget the escalator, probably the first in public space in Hyderabad, which was almost a major tourist attraction during those days.

2. Ramakrishna 35mm and 70mm: These twin theatres with the same name was owned by the legend NT Rama Rao and showcased only Hindi films. I vividly remember the huge Natraj statue in the lobby area and various nartaki on the outer facade.

3. Skyline and Sterling: These twin-theatres were situated in a by-lane in Basheerbagh little further away from the Abids area. But it was the landmark of Basheerbagh. There was plenty of parking, huge space, with nice eating joints around. These screens showcased only English blockbusters like Congo, Chicago, Titanic, and a whole lot of Superman and Batman movies to name a few. I remember watching Sharon Stone’s Basic Instinct which ran for close to a year in Sterling!

For me going early to a theatre had my own personal hidden agenda. I would secretly get plenty of time to admire the 'hand-painted posters'. I used to literally study each and every aspect of the poster and grasp the composition so distinctly, that the we get back home, I would sketch it out in my scrap book for future reference. I guess my love for art came from here. The lobby cards were another added attractions that I used to admire and love.

Anyway coming back to the theatre, the seating would have quaint names like "Dress circle"/"Balcony"/"Box"! inside the big dark auditorium, a guy in carrying a torch would take you in, and show you the seat. 

A bell would ring, and the deep maroon velvet curtains would rise slowly, displaying the screen. We would wait with bated breath for the film to start. But have go through some slides, ads, then the "Films Division Presents" before the main movie started. And yes, we called it "film"/ "cinema" never "movie". The films were in "Eastman-Colour" and there was something called "Cinema-Scope". I don't know what that brand of film was. But I used to enjoy the films mostly shown on the 70mm screen.

During the interval the curtains would come down again and it's the perfect break to go out to use the loo or stretch our legs or buy samosas, popcorn or chips. Sometimes we would have a "Cool/Cold-drink" (not "soft drink" mind you). Then rushing back inside the auditorium until we saw "The End". 

We would come home discussing the film all along the way. Sometimes we would go to a nearby restaurant afterwards for dinner but that was very rare! Later, over the week we would narrate the story to our other relatives and friends - frame by frame! 

The magic of the cinema died after we started watching films on video and now on Prime Amazon or Netflix etc. We do go to watch 'movies' in the theatre even now, however that magic of the "Silver Screen" of our childhood is definitely lost.