O n a random Tuesday afternoon, some fifty odd people sat in a dank hall, murmuring the dialogues and cheering as Amrish Puri says ‘ Ja Simran … ja jeele apni zindagi … ja beta ja ’. The fever pitch and gusto in the hall almost made one think it was happening in real life and not in a movie thirty years ago.

On a warm October day, I decided to embark on a quest. The journey was simple. Neither tedious nor strenuous. But as I made my way to the idling car, I was repeatedly asked by the hotel staff if I was sure of my destination. Perhaps not many of the hotel patrons go there, but I was undeterred. After all, watching Diwale Dulhania le Jaayenge in Mumbai’s Maratha Mandir is a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

It was on my bucket list, squeezed between a Taylor Swift concert and the nor

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