Hindi
Weak films fall by Dangal-side
The exhibition sector felt some relief with a blockbuster in Dangal after a long gap to help them sustain the cinemas, the vacuum faces them again as the two new movies, OK Jaanu and Haraamkhor, failed to bring in even the initial audience or, for that matter, even the compulsive first day or first weekend viewers.
With the forthcoming week offering no solace in the form of a major release, the cinemas face another dull week of ‘No audience, No show’ till two major films, Kaabil and Raees, fight it out for the playtime at the multiplexes on the eve of the Republic Day. Both release on 25 January.
*OK Jaanu, a remake of the Tamil film, O KadhalKanmani, in Hindi failed to arouse the curiosity depriving it of an initial draw. The film suffered due to its length sans face value, its South flavour and lack of a decent musical score, a mandatory ingredient in any romantic movie.
The film managed an average opening day figures of a little over Rs 3 crore. Friday, 13 January, and Saturday, 14 January, collections remained below par, too, as the film vied for attention on both days when the nation celebrated various festivals in different parts of India.
As these two days managed to pull in just about Rs 7.5 crore. The film managed to collect Rs 11.9 crore for its first weekend, which is on a low side.
*Haraamkhor is another film to go down as ‘No audience No show’ category film.
*Dangal continues to create havoc as well as new records. The film’s three week total reached Rs 359.87 crore, the highest domestic box office collections so far.
The film added another Rs 10.24 crore for its fourth weekend to take its 24-day total to Rs 370.11 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.
