Actor Aamir Khan broke silence on his recent wedding to entrepreneur Gauri Spratt after it drew criticism from political figures. Minister of Ports Development of Maharashtra Nitesh Rane labelled the marriage “love jihad”, whereas Maulana Ibrahim Hussain, the Shahi Chief Mufti of the Muslim Personal Darul Ifta, issued a fatwa against Khan.

Responding to these allegations Khan told Rediff, “The truth is that ours is a very inclusive family. Both my sisters are married to Hindus; my daughter is also married to a Hindu. My cousin Mansoor is married to a Christian,” clarifying that neither of his ex-wives — Reena Dutta (married in 1986) and Kiran Rao (married in 2005) — nor Gauri converted to Islam, because all three marriages were civil.

As per the fatwa, Ifta stated that a Muslim man cannot marry a non-Muslim woman under Sharia law unless she converts to Islam, calling the marriage “impermissible”. “Gauri is not even Hindu, she is Christian, and not even a practicing Christian at that. Life is getting more comical as time passes,” Khan added.

The couple had a private wedding at his Mumbai residence on July 5, registered under the Special Marriage Act. It was attended by around 150 guests, including his children Junaid Khan, Ira Khan and Azad Rao Khan, as well as Gauri’s son Quinn.

As Qayamat Se Qayamat Tak marked 38 years on April 29, actor Dalip Tahil revisited the intense creative conflict that ultimately shaped one of Hindi cinema’s most memorable endings. Tahil revealed that the tragic climax, now inseparable from the film’s legacy, was far from a settled choice during production.

“We had actually shot the sad ending which you finally see in the film. But at that time, when the film was being made, the distributors were very unhappy. Their main concern was that both the lovers die in the end. They kept telling Nasir saab, ‘Please change it, make it a happy ending.’ There was a lot of pressure because they felt a tragic ending would not be commercially viable,” he said.

The push for a happier resolution placed producer-writer Nasir Hussain in a deeply emotional bind, particularly as his son, debutant director Mansoor Khan, stood firm on his vision.

“Since it was Mansoor’s first film, and Nasir saab was producing and had also written it, it became a very emotional situation,” Tahil recalled. “Mansoor told his father very clearly, ‘If you make a happy ending, then please take my name off the film as director.’ That was a huge blow for Nasir saab,” he shared.

The team went ahead and filmed an alternate ending. “We did go ahead and shoot the happy ending,” Tahil said. “But I remember very clearly that Mansoor was completely disinterested in it. He was physically present on set, but he had distanced himself from the process. He was sitting far away, reading a magazine, not engaging at all. He didn’t want to have anything to do with that version,” he said.

Eventually Nasir Hussain went to Rahi Masoom Raza saab and explained the entire dilemma to him. “He told Nasir saab, ‘This is a really good film, and it will do well regardless. But if you put the happy ending, it will be a successful film. If you keep the sad ending, it will become a classic. That one line changed everything,” Tahil added.

When Amitabh Bachchan recently shared a ticket from a Sholay screening, what caught attention was the seat classification printed in bold: Special Class. According to film experts, such tickets reflect a long-forgotten language of cinema-going in India. Your seat didn’t just determine your view, it also revealed your social standing. “It wasn’t a standard classification at all cinemas. But the ticket is from Excelsior cinema in Bombay (Mumbai), where the last few rows, separated from the main cluster of seats, were called Special Class,” says film historian Shivendra Singh Dungarpur.

Today, watching a film is a different experience – with recliners, gourmet snacks, and curated drinks, it feels more like a luxe night out. But it wasn’t always this fancy. Experts say old movie tickets act like time capsules, capturing how your seat reflected both access and your place in society.

The front bench was as crucial as the director’s name on the poster. “Front bench full hai toh film hit hai – yeh criteria tha hit film ka,” laughs Alok Diesh, a veteran in the cinema business, who was around long before ticketing apps came along. He says that the front bench was rowdy and loud. If those seats – often the cheapest and closest to the screen – were packed, it meant the film had made its way to the masses.

Chaitanya Prasad, a moviegoer in his 60s, recalls, “Balcony seats were always something to envy. It was almost like winning a medal if you got a ticket for the latest release. So, a balcony ticket was just something we could only wish for as students. And some places, like Regal, even had box seats for VIPs.”

“Cinema owner toh DM se bada hota tha!” jokes film distributor Sanjay Ghai. “DM bhi film ki ticket ke liye usi ko phone karta tha. If the show was full, the manager would actually put the phone aside to avoid requests.”

Cine experts say that back in the day, your seat at the movies didn’t just decide your view – it said something about who you were. “In the ’50s and ’60s, men and women wouldn’t sit together. They had separate seats,” says Shivendra Singh Dungarpur. “Then came the idea that families could sit together. Later, the halls were redesigned to include balconies, dress circles, stalls. The stalls were closer to the projection and had a better angle. The dress circle was more separated and above.”

Film historian Gautam Chintamani describes seating at that time as highly stratified. “Roughly 65–80% of a cinema hall consisted of regular seats. Above those, you had the balcony, dress circle, and family boxes – small private enclosures with curtains or side doors. It used to be reserved for VIPs or people who didn’t want to be seen. So the seating reflected that hierarchy,” he says.

Post-Emergency (1975), while film content shifted towards escapism, the kind of audience frequenting cinema halls also changed. A certain segment of society – families and the working-class continued going to theatres. For them, cinema was an escape. You could smoke during interval (inside the cinema), have a cold drink and unwind. Seating reflected this shift, as theatres became places of affordable leisure for the masses.

Technological upkeep of theatres declined in the late 80s. India had 70mm theatres, grand halls with large seating capacities, but over time, infrastructure deteriorated.

Filmmaker Mansoor Khan once mentioned how he visited a theatre to watch Qayamat Se Qayamat Tak (1988) and found the doors didn’t shut completely, allowing light to spill onto the screen, and how 300–400 chairs creaked due to lack of oiling or maintenance. This decline shows the type of audience that still came to theatres – mainly lower and middle classes – while the elite moved towards home entertainment.

A significant shift happened with Hum Aapke Hain Koun..! (1994) . For the first time, a filmmaker gave theatre owners a checklist – unless the cinema had a particular sound system, clean restrooms (especially for women), and quality snacks, the film would not be released. This forced theatres to upgrade their infrastructure.

By late 90s, multiplexes like Priya in Delhi ushered in a new era. With advanced sound, better projection, and more comfortable seating, the expectations around what a cinema experience should feel like changed. By the 2000s, theatres began offering recliners, blankets, and luxury lounges. Cinema-going became an upscale, family-friendly outing.

– Film historian Gautam Chintamani

Chandrachur Singh is heartily embracing OTT and moving with the times. After making a comeback with the Emmy-nominated web series Aarya, the actor is now seen in Dil Bekaraar, the OTT show based on Anuja Chauhan’s book, Those Pricey Thakur Girls. He plays the role of a politician with negative shades in the series which takes the viewers back to the 1980s.

“I was excited to play an antagonist. It gives me a chance to do something different from the image that confines me into a particular style of performance,” Singh says.

The actor is popularly known for his roles in Maachis (1996) and Josh (2000) by the people who love art cinema. But he says commerce and art can’t be defined just by the genre. “Of course, Maachis is a very special film. But I also enjoyed working on Josh because I was working with Mansoor (Khan; filmmaker). I’m grateful to Gulzar ji (writer) and Rekha ji (actor) that I could work with better makers,” he adds.

While Maachis won him many accolades, the actor was never seen in such a movie later. Ask him why and he says, “There was so much work happening at that time, I could not accommodate those projects. They were all good films and eventually, this is destiny’s play.”

Having worked in both mediums, he says that he does not find any difference between working on an OTT series or a film. “It was no different than working on a film. I didn’t think that it was a different screen. I love working in both formats and look forward to working in both in the future,” Singh concludes.

Deven Bhojani is known to some as Gattu (from Baa Bahoo Aur Baby), to others as Patel (from Office Office), but to most as Karima (from Dekh Bhai Dekh). Presently, the actor is directing the Indian adaptation of Everybody Loves Raymond (Sumit Sambhal Lega), whilst simultaneously working on the script for his directorial debut in feature films, an untitled action film for Vipul Shah's Sunshine Pictures. “He liked my work in Pukaar and decided to let me direct a film,“ says Bhojani. Pukaar, the mini-series he directed, starred Rannvijay Singha and Raj Babbar, and concluded in February this year.

Leaning back on his chair at Vipul Shah's Andheri office, he credits Gujarati theatre for teaching him all that he has learnt. Bhojani discovered his calling for the stage as a commerce student of NM College. “My TV debut was in Malgudi Days when it used to be a one-episode story. I was cast for the story of Nithya,“ he reminisces. “Mahendra Joshi, who'd direct most of our plays, referred me to Arundhati Rao, whose husband, the late Shankar Nag, directed the show. She also got my reference from Naushil Mehta, who had written a sex comedy called Doctor Doctor, where I shared the stage with Paresh (Rawal), Apara Mehta and Darshan Zariwala,“ he says, adding he was only 17 then.

Bhojani's move into direction was accidental and he first wielded the megaphone when the director of Ek Mahal Ho Sapno Ka had to temporarily take off because of a personal emergency. Bhojani has since directed Sarabhai VS Sarabhai and Instant Khichdi, both raking in a cluster of TV awards.

Despite his directorial laurels, Bhojani's landmark achievement was playing an autistic child in Baa Bahoo Aur Baby, a show that survived five years and made his character Gattu a household name. Bhojani says, “There were tiffin boxes, kites and even rakhis with Gattu's face on them. But the funniest story is when a friend went to buy a goat for Bakri Eid and the butcher demanded a hefty sum since the goat was very 'Gattu'.“ He laughs at having becoming an “adjective for someone who is very healthy“.

After nearly 700 episodes when the show ran its course, Bhojani was burnt out and needed a break. “I was also the creative director on the show, so I had 10 people pouncing on me each time I reached the sets. From which blouse is right for whom to which storyline needs development, everything needed my attention. The show was like a well and I was a frog. I needed to get out and see the world,“ says the actor, who headed off for a filmmaking course in the US just after wrapping up the show in 2010.

He signed up for a direction course at the University of Southern California, impressed by the fact that the programme invited guest speakers like Steven Spielberg, James Cameron and George Lucas. But the one speaker who actually left him teary-eyed was someone quite familiar. “Aamir Khan was to come for a talk and screen Peepli Live,“ remembers Bhojani, who had worked with Khan before. When Khan was about to begin his talk, he was surprised to spot Bhojani and got off the stage to hug him. Khan also shared with the audience how his break in acting could be credited to Bhojani. Bhojani says, “I had done a play about army life called Kesar Bhina. I was also doing my articleship - mandatory for CA aspirants at the time. So when the play went on tour, I didn't get leave to travel. Aamir, who worked backstage then, replaced me on the tour. Since I had to give him the handover, I got to know him for the first time.“ Years later, Bhojani was cast in Jo Jeeta Wohi Sikandar when Khan saw him in a film called Kafila and referred him to Mansoor Khan.

“My passion for direction also began with Jo Jeeta, since I assisted Mansoor Khan, after Farah Khan, who assisted him in the first schedule, got busy with choreography,“ he says with a smile. Post Jo Jeeta.., Bhojani's career took off as he was flooded with acting offers. David Dhawan's Andaz, Mahesh Bhatt's Naraaz, Vikram Bhatt's Janam, Laurence D'souza's Sangram and a string of other films saw Bhojani play the “hero ka dost“, a typecast he didn't mind at the time.

“Mujhe shaadi karni thi, ghar lena tha, paise kamane the. (I had to get married, buy a house, make money.) So I accepted every film. I barely remember all the names. I would just ask, 'how much will I get paid per day?'“ laughs Bhojani. He ticked off “shaadi, gaadi and ghar“ from his list before turning selective about work.

Today, Bhojani is excited about his upcoming TV show, Sumit Sambhal Lega which is to go on air soon. He says it will be a 'first of its kind' on many counts. “Just like in the West, we're conducting technical rehearsals, stage rehearsals, script readings with the cast where the entire team brainstorms on how a scene can be improved. There's no ego, and everyone is cumulatively working towards a better product,“ he says of the show, where Namit Das is playing the lead role that was essayed by Ray Romano in the original.