Hindi
PPC defers release of ‘Khuda Ke Liye’, music launch on 14 March
MUMBAI: Percept Picture Company (PPC) has rescheduled the release date of Khuda Ke Liye for 4 April 2008. Directed by Shoaib Mansoor, the Pakistani film was initially slated to release on 28 March.
Sony BMG will be releasing the audio of the film on 14 March 2008.
Speaking to indiantelevision.com, PPC film distribution head Ashok Ahuja said, “We had to postpone the release date of Khuda Ke Liye because the audio release got delayed. Sony BMG will be launching the audio of this film on the 14th of this month.”
PPC plans to release the film, which describes a struggle between fundamentalists and liberal Muslims post the 9/11 tragedy, not only in the multiplexes but also in the single-screen theatres across the nation.
“We are talking not only to all the multiplexes but also to the single-screen theatres. Once the audio of the film is released, we will fasten the process,” Ahuja added.
When asked whether the film would do well in the Indian market, being the first Pakistani film to enter Indian theatres, Ahuja said, “Content always speaks. The film has already been hugely appreciated at the Goa Film Festival last year and with the content that the film contains, the film will definitely do well in the Indian market.”
Khuda Ke Liye (For God‘s Sake) is a low-budget film starring Pakistani actors Shaan in the role of Mansoor and Iman Ali as Maryam/Marie.
Indian actor Naseeruddin has a special appearance in the film. He plays the role of a Muslim cleric named Maulana Wali. Apart from Pakistan, the film has already been screened in Dubai and London.
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.
