Hindi
Mahayoddha Rama (Animation): Combines myth and comic for kids
When it comes to animation films, our filmmakers usually fall back on Indian mythology probably thinking that the viewer will be familiar with the story already. Few, if ever, attempt a theme outside the myth such as the recent one MotuPatlu: King Of Kings.
Mahayoddha Rama adopts a different approach in that this tale has been told from Ravan’s perspective who wants to destroy Rama, the avatar of Lord Vishnu, prophesied to be his doom. The approach is comical with a dash of martial art.
As the story goes here, Ravan has been trying to get rid of Rama since his childhood and trying every trick from sending a tiger to kill Rama to sending his sister Surpankha to lure him and brother Laxman.
Ravan’s 10 heads are the funny part of the film as each head has a different voice. While the main head has the voice of Gulshan Grover to go with his villain image, the rest are voices of Roshan Abbas, Gaurav Gera, Kiku Sharda, Sadashiv Amrapurkar and Amin Sayani, and others. One of the heads of Ravan also keeps chanting ‘Jai Shri Ram’ frequently!
Kunal Kapoor has done the voiceover for Rama, Jimmy Shergill for Laxman and Suchitra Pillai for Surpankha.
This animation film looks more like a comic take on the epic myth as the character of Ravan here is more like a caricature meant to evoke laughter though his surroundings are dark and he is surrounded by all sinister looking aides.
While the animation is not up to the mark with the characters having limited expressions. The film has taken a long time hitting the cinemas having been made in 2008. It aims more at kids seeking fun out of this comical version of the Ramayana.
Producer: Contiloe Films.
Direction: Rohit Vaid.
Cast (voices): Gulshan Grover, Kunal Kapoor, Jimmy Sheirgill, Mouni Roy, Amin Sayani, Sadashiv Amrapurkar, Sameera Reddy
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.
