Photo for representational purpose.
Credit: iStock photo
Newspapers often stir up nostalgia. That’s what an English daily did to me one morning with an article about the cinema houses in a bygone era of Bengaluru’s Majestic area.
The profusion of cinema houses in that area during yesteryears used to be a quiz master’s delight. Some questions were routine, like ‘How many cinema halls are there in the Majestic area?’ or ‘What’s India’s record for the maximum number of theatres in a single road?’ Old and loyal Bengalureans would recall the galaxy—not to be confused with the landmark theatre that once stood on Residency Road—of cinema houses screening Hindi, Kannada, Telugu, and sometimes Tamil and Malayalam movies, delighting film buffs of all languages.
There were the morning and matinee shows followed by evening shows and the second show for the night owls! That explained the perennially milling crowd on Bengaluru’s Kempegowda Road. (Magadi Kempegowda was an icon long before the international airport was named after him and a statue erected in his honour.) One couldn’t walk even a few yards without getting elbowed by passersby. Back then, people wondered what the density of visitors at Majestic would be after a couple of decades, given its rapid rate of growth.
Dr Rajkumar’s Bangarada Manuashya (1973) ran—hold your breath—for a record two full years at the States, now Bhumika Theatre! So, if it was Hema Malini’s debut movie opposite Raj Kapoor Sapno ka Saudagar (1968) in Triveni, and N T Rama Rao’s Srikrishna Pandaveeyam (1966) at the Movieland, the Amitabh Bachchan-Jaya blockbuster Abhiman (1973) at the Santosh/Nartaki complex was enthralling movie buffs. And then just around the corner were Gita Talkies and the Kempegowda to delight English film aficionados.
Cinema houses and restaurants went hand in hand. No theatre visit was complete unless one tucked into the masala dosa and drank coffee in one’s favourite restaurant. You were spoilt for choices with them as well.
There was the Vishnu Bhavan right below the Kempegowda theatre to savour their medu pakodas and the Ramakrishna Lunch Home, opposite the now demolished Kapali theatre, for your eyes to feast on the pile of chiroti and pheni enticingly arranged on huge plates.
Then, there was the India Coffee House at the entrance of the Avenue Road, where masala dosa would be served on delicate chinaware along with a fork and knife by liveried waiters—one always wondered if it was mandatory to eat the dosa using cutlery instead of one’s fingers in post-colonial India! Dosa was followed, almost as a rule, by a hot cup of steaming coffee, and each of these restaurants served its own concoction with a unique flavour.
Koi lauta de mere, beethe hue din from Door Gagan Ki Chao Mein — I hummed Kishore Kumar’s line as I shook myself out of the reverie.