I was a boy from Srinagar who had only seen locked cinema gates, and one day in Jammu, I discovered the magic of the silver screen — a memory I still carry vividly.
When I was in seventh grade, cinemas in my city had already closed. The big halls, life-size posters, and the thrill of watching a movie on a silver screen were all beyond my reach. I had never entered a cinema hall, nor did I have any clear idea of what it would be like inside. All I ever saw were rusted gates, firmly shut to the public. On television, I caught glimpses of films, actors performing, and crowds applauding — but I had never truly experienced it. My only memory of cinema was a poster on the closed Firdous Cinema near our school. It hung there like a fading reminder of an excitement that had disappeared, yet never fully died.
I often wondered what it would be like to enter a cinema hall. I imagined it from afar — spacious halls, comfortable seats, heroes and heroines larger than life, moving and speaking as if they were real. But these were only dreams.
After finishing twelfth grade, I joined Gandhi Memorial College and had to travel to Jammu for a brief period. I had visited Jammu before, but always as a child with elders. This time was different. I was a college student — more aware, more independent — and everything around me felt fresh and full of energy.
In Jammu, I stayed near KC Cinema, one of the city’s premier halls. From my window, I could see the big hoardings and posters of the film Khuda Gawah, the crowd, the lights, the excitement. My heart quickened. Something deep inside me stirred. This was the world I had imagined as a child, and now it was real, right before my eyes.
The next morning, I went early to catch the morning show. People were already at the ticket counter, and some were selling tickets outside. A notice on the wall caught my attention: student concession — fifty percent on production of an I-card. I had my Gandhi Memorial College I-card, and they allowed me entry at a concessional rate. For the first time in my life, the world I had only imagined — the crowd, the seats, the lights, the big screen — was about to unfold before me.
I moved through the long queue, heart pounding, and finally entered the cinema hall. The air smelled of popcorn and potato chips, and the quiet murmur of excitement floated all around. The gatekeepers guided me to the balcony, and I climbed the steps slowly, each one filled with anticipation. This was my first time seeing a cinema hall from the inside.
When I opened the balcony door, darkness enveloped the hall. My eyes struggled to adjust. The ticket checker guided me with a torch and showed me to a seat. Then I looked up — and there they were: enormous, moving mountains emerging from the darkness. For a moment, I was afraid, overwhelmed by their size, yet completely captivated.
And then I saw Amitabh Bachchan riding a horse, with Sridevi standing on a peak. My fear melted into joy. I finally understood what watching a feature film in a cinema hall truly meant — life itself brought alive on a giant screen. Everything I had dreamed as a child suddenly became reality.
I was thrilled, mesmerized, absorbed. Some people whistled at the dialogues, others clapped or laughed. Watching a movie here was no longer just seeing images on a screen — it was experiencing the story with everyone around me.
I loved the songs, the music, the story, the emotions — everything. Every scene, every note, every dialogue stayed with me. It was vivid, alive, unforgettable.
During the interval, when the lights came on, I realized it was time for a pause. An advertisement played on the screen. I stepped out with the crowd, watching people buy popcorn and snacks. I bought some too and returned eagerly to my seat for the second half. It was a simple joy, but for me, it felt new and thrilling.
Watching a movie on a silver screen is altogether different. It is not merely seeing a story; it is living it, feeling it, breathing it. Even today, years later, I remember that morning as clearly as if it were yesterday — the lights, the sound, the excitement, the music, the emotions, and the joy of my very first cinema experience.
For a boy who had only seen closed cinema gates, it was magic brought to life — happiness, wonder, and awe rolled into a few unforgettable hours. Cinema had finally become real for me — not just on posters, not just on television, but living, breathing, magnificent on a silver screen.
(Syed Majid Gilani is a Government Officer by profession and a writer-storyteller by passion weaving stories of real-life emotions. He can be reached at syedmajid6676@gmail.com.)
