Yes, I am old school. I admit I love watching movies only on the big screen. Undoubtedly, it gives you a big high. From making us shed copious tears on the death of the hero to triggering a laugh riot at comic capers, movies touch a chord deep within like no other. You can easily transform and visualise yourself as a stylishly dressed Simran of Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jaenge or a Pakistani designer suit-clad Preity Zinta from Veer-Zaara.
Though watching quality foreign films such as Korean classics and regional movies, especially the content-rich Malayalam offerings, on OTT platforms gives you a marvellous experience, they do not guarantee an escape route that a cinema hall does. Three hours of bliss!
The memories of a theatre experience remain etched in your mind forever. When I was 11, when my father took us to watch Chandni in a cinema hall nearby, as soon as I got off our maroon-coloured Bajaj scooter, I was instantly awe-struck seeing the life-size poster of Sridevi in a white sari on the walls. I was so mesmerised by Sridevi’s dance sequence in the movie that I still crave to get photographed on a snow-clad mountain, wearing exactly that same yellow chiffon sari.
The larger-than-life portrayal of women characters in Yash Raj films, such as the role played by Katrina Kaif in Jab Tak Hain Jaan, does rekindle that urge in you to up your glam quotient. It did inspire me to buy an expensive pair of leather boots. As a twelfth grader, I recall pestering my mother to get me pastel-coloured salwar suits, made popular by Kajol crooning the melodious number Awaara bhawre.
Playback songs watched on big screens had the power to transform one into an instant lover. Pehla Nasha, Dil Hai Ki Manta Nahi, Dheere Dheere Se Meri Zindagi Me Aana or Mujhe Neend Na Aye were anthems that instantly made you fall in love. Akshay Kumar’s sizzling numbers Tip Tip Barsa Paani and Chura Ke Dil Mera invariably set our hearts racing. A television set can never reproduced that effect. And anybody will agree that films carried more charm at that young and tender teenage, when days are full of crushes and heartbreaks. I remember a friend of mine, a diehard Salman Khan fan, suddenly starting sobbing, all because we were a few minutes late for Khamoshi: The Musical.
The only time I bunked my class at St. Stephen’s College was to watch Shool. Manoj Bajpai had caught my attention like no one before, and I made up my mind to visit Bettiah, his home town in Bihar. Not only did I visit the place but also urged the District Collector, a family friend, to inform me once the hero was in town.
Easy on the pocket
Back in those cash-strapped college days, a big draw was Delhi’s premier cinema hall PVR that used to offer ₹8 ticket for a front row seat. I remember travelling at 7 a.m. from Delhi University with a few friends to grab the deal. The appeal of foreign movies at such a low price was too much to resist. Watching Gladiator and Ronin from a front row seat was a different experience. The horses would seem to trample all over you. The sword would seem to cut through you. And, you could not grab a full view of the screen at one go. By the time you swung the eye from one end of the screen to another, the scene would change.
The next best option available were those pocket-friendly cinema halls near the university such as Alpana and Batra. Here our experience would be a different one with cheaper options such as popcorn and cream rolls to munch on. I remember going 12 times to watch Maine Pyar Kiya and eight times to catch up on Roja in those theatres.
The swanky Chanakya cinema hall would look accessible only when some gracious elder cousin or relative would offer to take us there. Even before the popular joints opened in the city, Chanakya was a popular haunt of college-goers and dating couples who would turn to it for Nirula’s hot chocolate fudge and Love 21 ice cream. Closing it down did break many hearts.
However, back then, going to a cinema hall was nothing less than a celebration. If you were from a small town and planned to go with friends, the biggest hurdle was convincing the elders in the family. It was followed by another difficult task of getting the tickets, sold in black by touts. Plus, the limited means of transport — auto or cycle rickshaw — meant leaving home early. Else, it became embarrassing to reach late after the lights went down inside the theatres and to be greeted by hoots and boos from the back. And then the torch-wielding guards would help guide us to our seats, the old creaking ones with slit leather seats which were anything but comfortable.
Even after the whole rigmarole, the sheer joy and pride of watching a movie in a theatre, to be boasted about later, seemed unmatched.
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