Srinagar and Laila Majnu

When it was released in 2018, it did not have much of an impact. But its stunning visuals, polished newbie actors and soulful music soon established it as a cult favourite. Now, eight years later, Sajid Ali’s Laila Majnu is running full house at PVR INOX in Srinagar, a city where film-watching almost died out in the last three decades. Shot in Kashmir, the romance has appealed to youngsters who want to see another side of their beloved land onscreen, without guns, rockets, and terrorist conspiracies. The film is presented by Imtiaz Ali who loves Kashmir. Laila Majnu’s star Avinash Tiwary and musician Niladri Kumar were mobbed in their theatre visit by an audience hungry for a salve to their long-festering wounds. The three-screen theatre has been running to packed houses for movies such as Oppenheimer (2023) and 12th Fail (2023) and the re-release of Imtiaz Ali’s Rockstar (2011). Educationist Vijay Dhar has also planned a food court which promotes local cuisine—the star of the show currently is a section run by an Iranian couple. Dhar has an emotional connect to cinema. His family ran the popular Broadway, before it had to be shut down in 1990 at the height of the trouble in the erstwhile state, at the same spot where PVR INOX now stands. Kashmir has an indelible connection with cinema. Not only was it the backdrop for many classics such as Kashmir ki Kali (1964) and Kabhi Kabhie (1976), but also it had a fine theatre-going tradition, with Kashmir Talkies (renamed the Palladium) starting in 1932, and Bombay Talkies having opened its doors in 1934. The audience that turned up to watch Laila Majnu hummed its songs, wept with the hero, and celebrated. As Imtiaz Ali said, “They see it as a 100 per cent Kashmiri film, showing its life and values as they are, shot in the Vally but not seen before this.”

₹50 Crore Is the New ₹100 Crore

One of the biggest impacts of the pandemic is the change in cinema viewing across India. Since cinema is now also consumed on streaming platforms, the definition of box office success has changed. Among the many incentives offered by the theatre owners is to have BOGO (Buy One Get One) tickets and special cinema days. As a result the revenue earned is reduced to half. A film that earned ₹100 crore may now see a stop in its earnings at ₹50/60crore despite being loved by the audience. But is it downsizing or rightsizing? The ₹50-crore club is the new ₹100-crore club. Much appreciated films have not hit a century. These are films such as 12th Fail, (₹69 crore), Chandu Champion (`88 crore) and the recently released Bad Newz (₹56 crore). One exception is Munjya, which earned ₹127 crore. Some movies have fallen much short of a 100 but these are not counted as failures. Instead, they are seen as successful films because the barometer is revised. A leading all- India distributor says, “We don’t see it as a recession in numbers. We see it as a revision.” With a decent box office revenue, satellite, OTT and audio + ancillaries, a film collecting ₹50 crore plus is now accorded the same status that a ₹100 crore film was.

Rewind

Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s Heeramandi on Netflix has renewed interest in the real courtesans of India, ranging from the tawaifs of Lahore to the devdasis of the South. Even as scholars argue about the authenticity of Bhansali’s presentation of Lahore’s courtesans, it is clear that Bollywood has done much damage to history. Yatindra Mishra, the poet and archivist, singles out Mughal-e-Azam (1960) as the single biggest culprit, beautiful though the movie was. Kathak was not prevalent during Akbar’s time while the director K Asif made Madhubala dance in the famous song, ‘Pyar kiya to darna kya’. “The courtesans of the time would perform while being seated,” Mishra points out. Satyajit Ray’s Shatranj Ke Khilari (1977) was one film that honoured the man in whose court kathak flowered, Wajid Ali Shah, the last Nawab of Lucknow. The movie has a scene where Saswati Sen performed to the song ‘Kanha main tose haari’, choreographed by Birju Maharaj. Mishra credits Ray’s Jalsaghar (1958) as a film which showed the actual relationship between courtesans and the zamindars of a decaying Bengal. Here, Chhabi Biswas plays a zamindar who falls on bad days but continues to indulge his fascination with private performances of music and dance. In one rare sequence, Begum Akhtar makes an appearance at a mehfil, singing a thumri. The atmosphere of darkness and destruction that surrounds the zamindar is redolent of the fate that befell many courtesans.

About The Author

Kaveree Bamzai

Kaveree Bamzai is an author and a contributing writer with Open

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