(Some of it sensuous, some of it censored)

I am Art Deco, I am ‘come movie dekho’. 

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I have history. I have screened the best. 

I am no ordinary movie theatre.

I was a classroom, 

I was a concert arena, 

I was a college hangout, 

I was a burning skyscraper, 

I was a kung-fu contest on an island, 

I was possessed by the devil.

I have hosted Woodstock, 

I have hosted Westerns, 

I have hosted war. 

I have screened crime dramas,

I have screened coming of agers,

I was cinemascope. I was Panavision, I was 35mm.

You bunked classes to come hang with me.

I was ‘A’. I was ‘U’. 

You tried to pass my doors as an adult, with fake moustaches and fake ID cards.

I was House Full, I was half full, 

I was ‘black mein ticket’. 

I was box office, I was blockbuster, 

I was bang-bang, 

I was ‘Blow Hot Blow Cold’, 

I was Bjorn, Benny, Agnetha and Anni-Frid.

I was a morning show, I was a matinee,

I was mass entertainer. I was masala. 

I wasn’t multiplex. 

You came to me for one film at a time, 

I never needed to share my single screen,

I got to have the final say, of what entered my hallowed hall, decided who sat down on my spacious seats, and who watched in my darkened auditorium.

You watched spell-bound, you screamed, you shouted, you surrendered, you were silenced.

I was never just a movie house for rent.

My opinion on The Kerala Story?

Movies are movies, movies are hard to make, movies deserve to be seen, audiences are mature.

Audiences will give you their verdict.

A thin line divides the political from the propogandist.

It’s my job to provide the projector and the popcorn, (and my mayonnaise filled chicken rolls),

I believe, once a censor board clears a film you don’t have a say, dear government, don’t need your input for your electoral gain. Back off.

But let me not digress.

So how do I feel as these tacky green covers come over my cream facade. 

At first I felt hope, someone wanted to renovate me, improve my state of disrepair.

When you lie vacant, like my brothers New Empire and Capitol… it’s depressing.

You feel unused, unappreciated.

A rat infested relic of the past.

When my mates Sterling and Metro gave up their singular status, and chose multi-plexhood…

At first we scoffed at them, Regal, New Excelsior and I-

“Compromisers you both are,” we said to them.

They accused us of hanging onto the past, 

“Accept change,” they advised, condescendingly.

They were right, as audiences dwindled, our sheen got tarnished.

The buzz was missing.

Still your memories remain in celluloid, etched in marble, experienced with me.  

I am Eros, God of love and sex.

Soon I’ll be Eros the department store.

Shit happens.

I occupy huge moments in your past.

Wish me well for the future. 

I am at all times a towering inferno.

Rahul daCunha is an adman, theatre director/playwright, photographer and traveller. Reach him at rahul.dacunha@mid-day.com