Hindi
Box Office: Prem Ratan Dhan Payo revenue drops after extended weekend
Prem Ratan Dhan Payo, after taking a record breaking opening on Thursday, since it was released a day earlier to take advantage of Diwali weekend, started dropping from the very next day. The general lack of appreciation for the film led to huge come down in footfalls. So much so that after the four days of its extended weekend, the film could barely add only as much as its first day figures for rest of the four days Monday on wards which is little over Rs 40 crore. The film managed Rs 172 crore for the eight day week. The film is not likely to get the advantage of its open run in the second week and could end up as a loss maker at the box office. (Refer Editor’s note below)
*X Past is Present, the collaborative effort of 11 film makers is a nonstarter.
*Charlie Ke Chakkar Mein added 1.8 lakh in its second week to take its two week total to about Rs 82 lakh.
*Main Aur Charles collected 1.7 lakh in its third week to take its three week total to Rs 6.67 crore.
*Pyaar Ka Punchnama 2 has added 40 lakh in its fifth week taking its five week tally to RS 61.55 crore.
Editor’s note: Considering that it cost an estimated Rs 115 crore to make and market Prem Ratan Dhan Payo, it must rake in around Rs 230 crore at the Box Office before it can even break even. It must make a profit for all the stakeholders, which include satellite rights revenue for Salman Khan who reportedly has not charged anything to make the film,and the music rights revenue that will reportedly go to film’s makers.. Just crossing the Rs 100 crore or Rs 200 crore mark at the Box Office does not qualify a film as a profit maker.
Hindi
Remembering Gyan Sahay, the lens behind film, television and advertising
From a puppet rabbit selling poppadums to Hindi cinema, he framed it all.
MUMBAI: There are careers, and then there are canvases. Gyan Sahay, the veteran cinematographer, director, and producer who passed away on 10 March 2026 in Mumbai, had one of the latter. Over several decades in the Indian film and television industry, he turned lenses, lights, and the occasional puppet rabbit into something approaching art.
A graduate of the Film and Television Institute of India (FTII) in Pune, Sahay built his reputation as a director of photography across a career that stretched from the early 1970s all the way to the digital age. He was the kind of craftsman who understood that a well-composed shot is not merely a technical achievement but a quiet act of storytelling.
For most Indians of a certain age, however, Sahay will forever be the man behind the rabbit. His direction of the iconic long-running television commercial for Lijjat Papad, featuring its now-legendary puppet bunny, gave the country one of its most cheerfully persistent advertising images. It was the sort of work that sneaks into the national subconscious and takes up permanent residence.
His big-screen credits as cinematographer include Anokhi Pehchan (1972), Pagli (1974), Pas de Deux (1981), and Hum Farishte Nahin (1988). In 1999, he stepped behind a different kind of camera altogether, making his directorial debut with Sar Ankhon Par, a drama that featured Vikas Bhalla and Shruti Ulfat, with a cameo by Shah Rukh Khan for good measure.
On television, Sahay was particularly prized for his command of multi-camera production setups, a skill that made him a go-to technician for large-scale shows and reality programmes. In an industry that has never been especially patient with complexity, he was the calm hand on the rig.
In later life, Sahay turned teacher. He participated regularly in masterclasses and Digi-Talks, often hosted by organisations such as Bharatiya Chitra Sadhna, sharing hard-won wisdom on cinematography, the comedy of timing in a shot, and the sweeping changes brought by the shift from celluloid to digital. He was also said to have been involved in a project concerning a biographical film on Infosys co-founder N.R. Narayana Murthy.
Tributes from the film industry poured in following the news of his passing, with colleagues remembering him as a senior cameraman who served as a rare bridge between two entirely different eras of Indian cinema. That is, perhaps, the finest thing one can say of any craftsman: he kept up, and he brought others along with him.
