Hindi
Simran: Ill-defined
Gujarati NRI family or a Gujarati abroad seems to be the current theme for filmmakers. We recently had Jab Harry Met Sejal and this week has seen the release of Simran.
Simran is about a Gujarati family settled in the US that consists of a mother, a father and a daughter. The daughter, KanganaRanaut, is a divorcee and, mainly, a rebel without a cause. She works at a hotel in the housekeeping department. Her job is the usual – making beds and cleaning room, but, she is particular about calling her job as one in housekeeping department; that probably gives it dignity according to her. Still, she does not think much of her father’s business of vending Gujarati savouries.
Kangana is always at loggerheads with her father except, of course, when she needs a favour, especially monetary help. While her father and mother are keen on getting her married again, her priority is to move out to a place of her own. She has been saving for a new house due to which her contribution to the household is nil.
Asked to accompany her cousin to Vegas, she agrees. Her cousin has a rendezvous planned with her boyfriend there.Deciding to leave her cousin alone with her man, she wanders into a casino. On the bar counter she spots a handsome man and decides to hit on him. As the hunk goes to a gambling table, she follows him there where she meets another Gujarati who encourages and teaches her to gamble.
Kangana has that customary beginners luck, wins some money and immediately decides cater to some urges to buy a dress and other things. And, she is back to the gambling table. The beginners luck has worn out and she starts losing and, like most gamblers, wants to one more go finally also losing her savings. The casino loans her money, 32,000 dollars!
Kangana’s troubles have started. Since her savings are finished, her credit rating falls and her application for a loan for her new home is denied. The gun totting black collector for the casino is at her back, threatening all the time.
To lay her hands on money, Kangana decides to rob banks. Her three attempts are successful but, strangely, no bank seems to have 50,000 dollars which she now owes to the casino including interest. Kangana loses her job when the black casino collector comes to her workplace. To add to her troubles, the stolen money which she kept in her locker in the hotel changing room is also gone.
Kangana decides on one final robbery.
In the meanwhile, she has come close to the guy her family has chosen, takes a liking to him as well. But, it is also the time for her troubles to climax.
The film’s story does not quite convince a viewer. There is no logic to the protagonist’s behaviour. Her attitude, way of life and thinking are not identifiable. The walking into a bank and scaring the teller enough to hand over all the money on a lipstick inscribed threat chit seems easier than cashing a cheque in any bank! For one who never cares for the feelings of her father or the saamaj which he often cites, it is strange that she decides to lead the police away from the population lest the samaaj sees her. The direction of the movie is passable but has taken too many liberties. The cinematography is good as the US locations provide ample scope. Using Gujarati dialogue frequently does not help the cause with other audiences as has been seen in earlier films that have resorted to a regional language. The music works well for the film.
This is purely a KanganaRanaut vehicle with other actors being incidental. She excels. Soham Shah in a small role is sincere.
Simran has had a poor opening. The chances of picking up are dim during this dull period.
Producers: Bhushan Kumar, Krishan Kumar, Shailesh R Singh, Amit Agarwal.
Director: Hansal Mehta.
Cast: KanganaRanaut, Soham Shah.
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.
