Hindi
Alif & Kung Fu Yoga go unnoticed
In their unmindful head to head clash, and their un-businesslike decisions to release their films bang during a midweek, on 25 January, a day before the Republic Day national holiday, both the films, Kaabil and Raees, seemed to be harming their own prospects. And, that is how the results at the box office of both the films show.
While the opening of the films was below par, the only day they really peaked was on the national holiday of 26 January. The next day, both dropped by almost 50 per cent. The figures thereafter took only downward trend.
Since the films lacked in content department. Raees, glorified an anti-national as a do-gooder while the other, Kaabil, tried to sell an age-old story of revenge for a raped woman, with a different angle. Both failed to draw crowds — Raees failed or find appreciation, Kaabil, though, liked by a section of moviegoers, was not enough to fill the coffers. The collection figures issued by the production houses don’t stand the scrutiny.
*Raees collected Rs 111.9 crore (nine days) and, despite an open week as no major film has released this week, there is no benefit for the film to reap.
*Kaabil, though, remained on the lower side through rest of the week as the film could add just about 14 crore for the remaining four days taking its first week (nine days) total to Rs 71.6 crore.
*Dangal keeps adding bit by bit to its total as the film seems to enjoy some repeat audience. The film collected Rs 1.8 crore in its sixth week to take its six week tally to Rs 386.86 crore.
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.
