 were the star attractions at a big-ticket real estate shebang in Dubai, UAE, on Tuesday night.

The semi-ticketed event, which witnessed a turnout of 7,000 attendees, most of them South Asian expats, marked a new milestone for its headliner: the launch of Shahrukhz by Danube, a 55-storey commercial business tower named after the Indian superstar. It is the first tower in the world to bear Khan’s name. The 60-year-old actor has, for the first time, granted his exclusive naming rights to a brand.

‘Shahrukhz by Danube’: Shah Rukh Khan Launches 55-Storey Eponymous Tower in Dubai

Suvinder Vicky as the sad, brutish Balbir was the MVP of 

, one of the most acclaimed streaming shows out of India in recent years. In Sudip Sharma's bleak Netflix thriller, two Punjab cops got around solving a murder, unravelling, in the process, a tangled heap of patriarchy, buried secrets and feudal codes of honour. The series worked as a bone-dry buddy cop drama: If Garundi, played by Barun Sobti, was the Sabu-like brawn, then Balbir, with his measured ways and red turban, was the rum-smelling Chacha Chaudhary of this show. 

Sharma, writing and co-creating once again with Gunjit Chopra and Diggi Sisodia, says it was a 'tough call' to cut Balbir loose. “So much of 

 is the personal stories of the cops," Sharma explains. "When we started writing season two, we realised we had run out of fuel for Balbir. His emotional arcs were all done, his conflicts resolved. We really did not know where to take him from here." 

Was Vicky, one of the finest exports of Punjab to the Hindi mainstream, upset with the dismissal? Was Sharma nervous to break it to him? "It took that one difficult conversation I had to do with him. He was very sporting and gave us his blessings." 

In the second season, Garundi, recently married, is posted in a new city called Dalerpura (the show was shot in Amritsar). He's determined to lead a quiet, uneventful life when a fresh case breaks: a woman's body in a barn, impaled on a vegetable cutter. Garundi is paired on the investigation with a female commanding officer, Dhanwant Kaur (Mona Singh). Dhanwant, of course, has her own baggage—both personal and professional—and is hardly an improvement on Balbir in the cheerfulness department (happiness, like sunshine, is a rumour in 

"What I admire about this show is how the central case is always intertwined with the cops' personal lives," Singh says. "What happens in the main investigation also reflects on their own truths, which they are hiding." 

Both Sobti and Singh had long careers on television, and are finally being rewarded with the kind of diverse, fine-grained roles they had always sought. Singh hopped comfortably from 

The B**ds of Bollywood last year to Happy Patel, Border 2 

. Sobti, meanwhile, was lovely in last year’s 

 winning a Filmfare OTT Award for Best Actor in A Comedy. 

“I don’t think I would have a career today without streaming,” Sobti avows. “I feel the same,” adds Singh. “I had done everything on television and there was nothing new left to do.” 

 is darker and 'more emotional' than the first season. "It's also funnier," he remarks, talking about the several comic chases that perk up proceedings. The third episode takes a detour to Manali, Himachal Pradesh, with Garundi on the trail of a suspect. "I ran mountains and cliffs for three days in the freezing cold,” Sobti shares, exhaling audibly.

Sudip Sharma has not only co-written the new season of 

 but also co-directed it with Faizal Rehman. The duo were collaborators on

(2019-2025), the other great investigative series that Sharma has shepherded to acclaim. In recent years, politically conscious streaming creators like Sharma have had to simmer down, using allegory and hints to reflect larger realities. This somewhat burdensome quest continues with 

"The new season goes deep into the way our nation works, especially Punjab," Sobti says. "It..." He trails off, unable to give away more (only two episodes were available for preview).

"It's like explaining sex to your children," Sharma chuckles. "What I can tell you is that we are looking at the family as the unit of our society. It's a more personal show than 

Team 'Kohrra' On The New Season: Darker, Funnier, More Emotional

Riya Shibu isn’t entirely new to the abruptness of going viral. But the Gen-Z star admits that she hasn’t quite received as much love and recognition as she has after the release of her film 

 last Christmas. The movie went on to collect over ₹150 crore worldwide, and Riya’s role as Delulu, the friendly ghost who guides Prabha’s (

) spirit through tough times, has made her something of a happy mascot. And yet, the clips that went viral after the film’s release were not of the unusually cheerful Riya being just as cheerful on screen. Instead, they showed the actor-influencer breaking down after seeing the response to her movie when she watched the first show with audiences. But the reason for these tears was not redemption for finally achieving a childhood dream, or the relief of a struggler making sense of life.

“After the first show got over,” Riya recalls, “is when I realised we wouldn’t all be meeting again, unless they made a sequel,” she says. “No more shoots with the crew, no more stories to hear from Nivin chettan, no more spending time with the chettan in sound who reads the Bible, even at 1 a.m.” More than external validation, it somehow felt befitting of the character she plays in the film — that the little things mattered most to her, over fame or instant stardom.

You notice this excitement in her voice each time she begins to talk about the days of the shoot, as the speed of her words exceeds the speed of thought. “I didn’t want to say something cliché like, ‘I loved you in 

,’ or that I’m his huge fan,” she jokes about her first day on set with Nivin. She had grown up his fangirl, but wanted to play it cool. “So I began by joking around with him, like we were old pals. There were a few kids playing around us, and I started acting like they were there to see me,” she says. 

It’s the sort of thing that immediately put Nivin at ease, and was the start of an easy friendship — the type that made their on-screen chemistry the driving force of 

This, in a film in which their chemistry was spoken about even more than that of Nivin and his longtime offscreen-onscreen best friend, Aju Varghese.

At times, she jokes that their buddy equation “kinda, sorta got out of hand.” “After a few days, it became impossible to stop laughing during takes,” she says. “When we were shooting in Bombay, Akhil chettan (the film’s director) requested us to take it easy and laugh later, because it costs more to shoot there.”

This was just one of the many instructions she kept receiving from Akhil, the son of Sathyan Anthikad — both of whom have now become mentors to Riya. “Maybe with new actors, instructions from directors may be to do more, to be more expressive… but with me, Akhil chettan had to keep controlling my meter,” she laughs. “I was too hyper and loud at times, so I get why.”

This comfort zone is something, it appears, she’s a master at creating, even during interviews. As she gives you a brief introduction to where she was born and what she studied, there’s always a joke thrown in. “My childhood home was on the Kerala–Tamil Nadu border,” she says. “From my house, you could see the ‘Welcome to Kerala’ sign. But inside, my bedroom was in Kerala, and the drawing room was in Tamil Nadu.”

What begins as an interview somehow ends like a chat between “pals,” thanks to Riya’s unique skill set. This is also what has made her so endearing to family audiences, even when she’s just two films old. 

, there was appreciation and love I got on Instagram. But that’s nothing like the love you get after a movie — especially a movie loved by families. For kids, I’ve become their Delulu chechi. And on the other hand, there were so many aunties and uncles as old as my grandparents who came up, held my hand, and spoke to me by calling me 

 (daughter). I feel like my grandmom would have been so happy to see all this today,” she says slowly, as her words finally catch up with the emotions swirling around in her head.

How Delulu Became Her Solulu: Actor-Influencer Riya Shibu On Charming Nivin Pauly and Movie Audiences in 'Sarvam Maya'

Writer-director Rahi Anil Barve’s journey in cinema is a potholed path of meticulous attention, relentless delays, appropriation of credit, and vast stretches where projects announced and shot never attain fruition.

Birthed from a 700-page storyboard, his debut 

(2018), a horror folk moral fable, took years to bloom from thought to theatre, being palmed off across seven production companies, going on the floor thrice before being pulled back. In an interview, Barve noted that there was “no frame of reference for [the producers], nothing like 

Finally, after two-and-a-half years of post-production, when the film released, there was a whisper campaign trying to pull credit for the film’s success in different directions—Adesh Prasad is credited as co-director, Anand Gandhi as creative director, and Sohum Shah as actor-producer. (Barve is not part of the announced sequel.) The box-office returns from the film’s re-release in 2024 exceeded that of its initial theatrical run, becoming the highest-grossing re-released film in Indian cinema at that time.

Did the film’s success make Barve’s subsequent journey easier?

, he responds, “Easier? No. Just different. They take meetings faster now. Indian studios want “new” but not “too new”. They want “ambitious” but not “risky”. They want “like 

, Barve announced several projects. There was 

would be his “Greed Trilogy”. The former is “very much alive…trimming the budget from ₹60 to 70 crores, coordinating actor dates”, while the latter “is in the vault now. 

needs to succeed first before this one can take flight.”

, a six-hour, eight-episode period sex-comedy, produced by filmmaker duo Raj Nidimoru and Krishna DK for Amazon Prime Video, made on a sweeping ₹100 crore budget. Starring Kunal Kemmu, Pankaj Tripathi, and Patralekha, the show, fully shot, is now stuck in limbo—with talks even of cancelling it altogether.

“It’s a beautiful show, ready in 2023—just caught in the wrong climate. Thanks to shifting political pressures, an entirely new war began just to get it released. Honestly, I doubt even

 could have come out today,” Barve says.

Then, in February 2025, it was announced that Barve, along with Raj & DK, was making 

, Netflix India’s first-ever “mega action-fantasy series”, according to Monika Shergill, Netflix India’s VP for Content. Starring Aditya Roy Kapur, Samantha Ruth Prabhu, Ali Fazal, and Wamiqa Gabbi, the show is rumoured to be in the process of being shelved. Barve made no comment about this project’s impending status, stating, “The last six years have been the hardest phase of my life.” 

, Barve’s second feature film starring Jaaved Jaaferi is surfacing in theatres on January 30, 2026—a film that Barve had shot in 2018, in the six months he had after 

 absorbed him. He describes it as “something quick and personal”, based on a story from a chapter in his book 

 came out. “When I met him, I saw a very obsessed man—obsessed with his film,” Jaaferi remembers. A film which takes place in 24 hours in a single location—a decrepit theatre, full of kerosene and dust—and told without flashbacks, 

is driven by the four characters, as opposed to a conventional plot. It was an intensive shoot—some days they would shoot for over 20 hours. They canned the film over 22 days.

 was in post-production hell. With Aasif Pathan, his editor, Barve worked for a year and a half to whittle the film down from a four-hour cut to two hours.

It can be frustrating when as a filmmaker you are dabbling multiple projects, with so little to show for. “There are years when nothing moves—even after you’ve moved mountains—and hundreds of crores of work remain stuck. You start feeling like you’re rotting inside your own ambition. But then one good scene, one good frame, one good performance is enough to remind you why you do this in the first place. And honestly, that helps.”

Besides, Barve enjoys the inertia of making to tide over the sluggishness of releasing. He has also been dabbling with artificial intelligence this past year, tinkering with Gorilla software on his PC on a project. “The first 40 minutes are ready; 50 more to go. I’ve spent less than a few lakhs, working like a maniac in whatever free time I get — mostly nights. Two years ago, the same film would have cost me more than ₹6 crore and an entire team of artists. I won’t lie—making it creatively and visually is still immensely hard. Good AI filmmaking will remain rare, no matter how advanced the technology becomes.”

'Mayasabha': Inside Rahi Anil Barve And Jaaved Jaaferi's Eight-Year Journey to Make The Film 

Filmmaker R Gowtham’s debut Tamil feature 

 will premiere at the 76th Berlin International Film Festival in the Forum sidebar, which, “aim[s] to expand the understanding of what film is, to test the boundaries of convention and open up fresh perspectives to help grasp cinema and how it relates to the world in new ways.”

A perfect addition to this sidebar, alongside films that are experimenting with form, time, and narrative, 

 exhibits the chaos—equal parts poignant, violent, comical, and tragic—around a funeral, challenging what we think of as a cohesive film.

Gowtham cites the 19th century German writer Goethe’s 

as a manifesto for his fragmented and energetic cinema, “If you understand something, I am doing something wrong.”

Shot for around a month in Red Hills, a suburb in the northwestern part of Chennai, the film, according to a poet friend of Gowtham, Shankar Rama Subramanian, “shows the current decay of the Tamil OBC family.”

, edited for length and clarity, Gowtham outlines his journey into and vision for cinema...

Until I was nine-ten years old, I lived in a suburb near Mayiladuthurai, from where writers like Kalki Krishnamurthy emerged. My whole family was into movies. We would watch the same movie twice. Then, I grew up in the northern suburbs of Chennai, pursuing a degree in commerce. I got into cinema through street theatre. It was there that I met Bramma, known for films like 

 (2022-25). He became my mentor. I was also preparing for UPSC—I failed that, didn’t clear the preliminaries. But we had a lot of time to prepare, and for at least five years we were with books. But instead of textbooks, I was reading Tamil literature and poetry. Later, I worked as a rural program manager for NGOs and HR in hospitals. I took a long turn and came to the Asian College of Journalism (ACJ) in Chennai as a research assistant. 

Then, at AsiaVille, I headed content, doing short documentaries, shot with the phone. We even introduced the “Kutti Documentaries” format—15-minute ground reports. During COVID-19 we never took leave, stayed fully busy. Meanwhile PS Vinothraj made 

. The lead actor of that film was my roommate. I used to frequently visit them during post-production. With our broken English, we wrote the synopsis of that film and sent it to the International Film Festival of Rotterdam (IFFR), where it premiered. Then, I thought it was my turn to make a film.

The Tamil films you saw growing up are very different from this film. Didn't you want to make the kind of movies you watched growing up? 

There is a vibrant cinema culture here. We were introduced to Latin American directors like Glauber Rocha through the writings of Charu Nivedita. We also loved watching director Hari’s 

 movies. But Tamil, and specifically Tamil OBC mentality, is about going to enjoy movies, happy with what happens on screen, not wanting to become that. Despite attending all FDFS shows, we were against that. We were bullish. We wanted to make films about how we spoke when we were drunk, like an MRI and a CT scan of my world. 

Did you bring what you learned from making “kutti documentaries” into your cinema? 

When we shoot documentaries, when things go wrong, it is an opportunity to shoot whatever you want. You don’t control things. But on a fiction film, I have written a script, with a shot-list. During the shoot every morning I was nervous, and every night I was happy. Besides, we have been losing for a long time. What happens if we fail one more time? 

What drew you to this story to make your debut? 

My family is full of drinkers—there are a few exceptions, but I have seen my uncle and cousins succumb to alcohol. Some came back. Others couldn’t. Since we didn’t have the luxury to go elsewhere, we fixed the location, the actors, and with whatever was available we made the film. 

Tell me about the style of the film. The visual aesthetic is trying to mimic the documentary. But also, the narrative is fractured, where instead of a scene having a beginning-middle-end, it explodes, recedes, meanders. There is no set pattern to what a scene is trying to “do”. Did this method come easily? 

In the initial stage of writing, on Saturday nights we would all sit, drink, discuss, and later forget and move on with our lives. I idea was to let the film be like how I was. See, I cannot narrate a story. The film is also like the way I talk. I write poetry, fragments. Even my mentors would try and instil focus in me—they all failed. 

In the film, we did not want to reveal information. People complain they cannot understand how the characters are related to each other. But, for example, in Tamil families, there is no equivalent word for 'cousin'. It is “thambi” (younger brother) or “annan” (elder brother). If you say, he is my “uncle’s son”, they will get furious. After all, they are brothers. Within the clan and caste, they are tightly knit, and that is the only way they know how to show affection. They shout at you to tell you that they love you. 

Besides, when we do something, we should contribute to cinema. If form and technique is contributed by Soviet, German, and American filmmakers, what is Tamil cinema’s contribution? We have taken plenty from cinema... what do we give back in terms of form and technique? That is what we have tried. 

Berlinale 2026: How 'Kutti' Documentaries and Drinking Inspired Director R Gowtham to Make 'Members of the Problematic Family'

It isn’t off-brand for Chakravarthy Ramachandra to say he grew up watching Hindi movies made by the Ramsay Brothers, alongside a healthier diet of classic Hollywood horror. He recalls several Sunday afternoons spent with cousins and friends, when he would pop open the lid of his imported video cassette recorder (VCR) and slide in tapes of 

…The windows had to be kept open because of how terrified they would get. Thirty years later, the same boy has launched a studio exclusively devoted to his undying love for the genre.

Night Shift Studios, based out of Chennai, is Ramachandra’s production company, one that has delivered two consecutive horror blockbusters in Malayalam — 

. What Blumhouse, Shudder and Hammer are to Hollywood is what he aims for Night Shift to be to Indian cinema. But before he set his eyes on horror, he worked — and still works — as chief executive officer of YNOT Studios, the acclaimed production house behind Tamil hits such as

His work at YNOT is what he now calls his “day shift,” the part of his cinema brain that explores all other genres. Night Shift, however, was created to push the envelope and go where most producers rarely dare.

“The moment you decide to make horror, you’ve decided to ignore 90 per cent of the movie-going audience,” Ramachandra explains, noting that he is the only one in his family who will watch films of this genre. “You also have to be prepared for an A certificate, which means you’re refusing revenue from multiple income streams, including satellite.” He describes the 10 per cent who love horror as a purist bunch — viewers who sharpen their tastes on the darkest Korean, Japanese, and American films. “If we make a horror film without an A rating, the audience feels it’s not scary.”

It’s a strange beast Ramachandra has chosen to wrestle with. His first film, 

 in the lead, didn’t find any takers among distributors. What didn’t help was that it became the first Indian black-and-white movie to release widely in over 42 years. Eventually, Ramachandra had to distribute the film in-house — a move that reaped rich rewards. The movie went on to earn over ₹85 crores in total, a miracle given the specificity of its genre and its monochromatic aesthetic. But the idea wasn’t to make a black-and-white film “just for the sake of it”.

“Imagine setting a scary movie in a place as beautiful and green as Palakkad in Kerala and then shooting it in colour. Instead of feeling trapped or wanting to escape that big mansion, the viewer may feel like they want to live there with the chathan (ghost).” Even with a director such as Rahul Sadasivan, fresh off the success of 

, it wasn’t going to be easy to convince Mammootty to take such a risk.

To do so, the director and crew went to the film’s actual location with real cameras and cranes, shooting reference material exactly as they intended the final film to look. “Mammukka is a man who has already done everything in his career. He has worked with legends. We needed to show him what we had in mind and that we could pull it off.” In just 52 days, they completed the film they set out to make. Mammootty went on to win the Kerala State Award for Best Actor for his performance. The film is also scheduled to be screened at the Academy Museum of Motion Pictures in Los Angeles on 12 February 2026, as part of the 

, starring Pranav Mohanlal. Another blockbuster, it earned ₹83 crores despite its adults-only rating. “I don’t think one can make horror movies without truly believing in the supernatural,” he says. “Of all genres, someone who can make great horror will also be great at making comedy. You need a special rhythm for both.” His collaboration with Rahul Sadasivan will continue, he says, and he’s excited to work with talents across other languages — this time to explore even more specific subgenres within horror.

But horror wasn’t always a part of the plan. As strange as it sounds, Ramachandra says he once dreamt of setting up a studio label exclusively for devotional movies. He recalls a period around 2021 when he read script after script without finding a single one that interested him. “Either the people who can still make good devotional films had retired, or the youngsters just couldn’t think of making a rooted film that wasn’t trying to be the next 

All he was looking for was a cleverly told story about an atheist finding faith, or even “an origin story of one of our gods — any one of the thousands of them.” When that search failed, he tried finding a film made exclusively for children. “I struggled to find a writer for that too. I may have met dozens of writers and directors across the country over four years, but not one pitched a children’s movie to me. It’s always either a thriller or an action drama. With a children’s movie, you really need to be able to think like a child. It’s not a film you can commission.”

Horror, then, offered a beat diametrically opposite to both genres he had been exploring. “I guess the idea is to be pure to my genre. I will never force an item song into my films, nor will I stuff comedy in just for the sake of it. If I need to make a compromise to sell even one extra ticket, I’d rather lose that money.”

And as a man who loves cinema and the purity of genres, he says there’s only one he simply cannot wrap his head around. “Romances! I mean, it’s always the same story: a boy meets a girl and they go through some issues — all to the beautiful music of A.R. Rahman in the background. As a producer, how do you gauge such a script, and how do you know if it will work?” he asks, puzzled. “The guys who can make a romance come alive…those are people I have a lot of respect for.”

Fear of underperforming. Fear of succumbing to the typical tricks of the trade.

Time. I have too many movies to make and need to stay “relevant” (trade terminology) in terms of time.

3. The scariest film you’ve ever seen? 

All the movies that scared me became my favourites. Let’s say I haven’t made one yet.

Hell NO. If I were transported there forcibly, I would befriend the cook for free drinks, delicacies, and to hear his stories. Strictly stay out of the central courtyard...

5. What keeps you up at night (besides horror scripts)? 

Excitement. From reading the first synopsis to the movie’s release, the journey is long. The wait for the world to witness what we have to offer keeps me up all night. Otherwise, the budget spreadsheets and diving into sub-genre ideas.

6. An underrated horror movie you’d recommend? 

7. The craziest horror movie buff you’ve met? 

Writer and director Ashwin Saravanan. He not only watches movies but also reads extensively, including books, articles, and graphic novels. It’s only a matter of time before he speaks to one of the entities.

To read more exclusive stories from The Hollywood Reporter India's January 2026 print issue, pick up a copy of the magazine from your nearest book store or newspaper stand.

Ghost Protocol: Inside The Chennai-Based Production House That Exclusively Makes Horror Movies

 (2006) had survived their fatal fate, where would they be today? Writer-director Rakeysh Omprakash Mehra has some theories. “DJ (

), being from Punjab, would’ve joined the army because that’s the tradition in their families,” he says. “Aslam (Kunal Kapoor) would be an IAS or IPS officer. He was the smartest. Sonia (Soha Ali Khan) would be a journalist. Lakshman (Atul Kulkarni) would go into politics. Karan (Siddharth Suryanarayan), after serving the sentence for killing his father, would get into the social sector. Sukhi (Sharman Joshi)… well, I don’t know. He is the hardest one to say.”

The pang we feel for these imagined lives explains the enduring pull of 

. Mehra’s film, a brash, vivid work released 20 years ago on January 26, followed five Delhi University students who take a drastic step after their friend dies in an air crash. It is considered a landmark of mainstream filmmaking, a poem of youthful dissent that reimagined patriotism for a cynical age. The film gave a language (and a soundtrack) to protest culture in 21st century India. Its cultural imprint has survived two decades of transformative changes in Indian politics and society. Fittingly for a film that put the past in conversation with the present, its relevance has only grown in a supine Hindi cinema, beset by censorship, propaganda and moral bankruptcy on an astonishing scale.

about the film’s galvanising power, how key scenes and characters came to be, and his measured hopes for Hindi films and the nation at large.

The first hour of 'Rang De Basanti' is a lovely, goofy ode to campus life in Delhi. It feels like the most personal and nostalgic stretch for you.

I have fond memories of my time at Shri Ram College of Commerce (SRCC) in Delhi University in the late 80s. I was a swimmer and a cricketer, and I spent a lot of time in the nets with would-be legends of Indian cricket. Politically, we were pretty aware and active. We would peacefully protest against the college and university authorities for the rights of students. We would have fierce ideological debates, then eat from the same plate in the canteen. Sometimes there would be outside elements trying to create violence, but we were not known for that.

Two events from that time shook me badly. The first was the anti-Mandal Commission protests, which began peacefully but then turned ugly and were met with heavy state repression. The other was the 1989 Tiananmen Square massacre in Beijing, China. There was the famous visual of a solitary man standing against a row of tanks. It’s one of the defining images of the 20th century, and it made its way in a translated fashion into 

The film was originally scheduled to release a week earlier on January 19, but ran into censor hurdles.

Because we were talking about a defence corruption, the CBFC asked us to get an NOC (No Objection Certificate) from the Defence Ministry. When we tried to get that, we were stonewalled by the bureaucrats. I was advised to remove references to the MiG aircraft and not call the Defence Minister by his post. Obviously, we would not succumb to that. It would defeat the whole idea of making the film. We were talking about mothers who lost their sons due to faulty aircraft. In fact, there was a documentary on NDTV called 

, which spoke about the same issue. We had absolutely fear in depicting it. 

…the film was finally seen by then Defence Minister Mr. Pranab Mukherjee and the Chiefs of the Air Force, Army and Navy. They cleared it without any issue because they understood our intentions. 

One of the most touching characters in the film is Laxman (Atul Kulkarni), a hateful and bigoted soul who undergoes a change of heart. How did he come about?

I was feeling certain shifts in how people were thinking and where the country was heading. I could smell it in the air. That’s how the character of Lakshman Pandey was invented. He is intolerant towards Muslims at the start of the film. The youth can get swayed by ideologies that feel like empowerment, but it’s entitlement. It’s not empowerment. In Lakshman’s case, by playing the character of Ram Prasad Bismil, a revolutionary fighter and poet, something changes in him. He ends up saying sorry to Aslam and they become best friends. They even die together in the film. The juxtaposition with the historical characters felt perfect for their relationship.

There’s a scene where DJ tells Sue (Alice Patten) that he never wants to leave the campus. He says that in the outer world, his life will have no meaning. It’s one of those moments where the film glances ahead to what awaits.

All the scenes in the film were written with heart and intuition. DJ is closely modelled on a close friend of mine who never wanted to leave the university. He did his B Com, his M Com, his doctorate… but basically, he never wanted to leave. There are many such characters who are the coolest people on campus, but when you meet them after 10 or 15 years, they have become irrelevant. So I gave that fear to DJ. He is afraid to step outside into the real world because he fears becoming an unknown. He fears he’d lose his spirit, trying to survive and make a living like the rest of us. It turned out to be a simple yet beautiful scene.

The film’s ideas and images were echoed during the protests for the verdict in the Jessica Lal murder case and other instances. It has been widely studied in Western and Indian academia for its social impact.

So the line is blurred. We borrowed from real life and then real life borrowed from us. The candlelight vigil became a nationwide idiom for protesting peacefully all over the country. Earlier, we never used to have that. The film also resonated internationally. I remember I was invited to Ohio and Michigan Universities in the American Midwest. The students there had created 10 small plays out of the film, talking about discrimination and their own problems. A choir of 165 people sang the title song. It was a tearful moment for me. The film had this umbilical cord with the youth that went beyond India.

It’s generally held that a film like 'Rang De Basanti' cannot be made in the current sociopolitical environment. How does that make you feel?

I really don't get it. The times do change, and they keep on changing. Even this time shall pass. One cannot always react in frustration and angst. It is an imperative of art and artists to tell their stories under any circumstance. Sociopolitical cinema of this kind will always have an important role to play. Even if 10 per cent of it is anti-establishment, it can still be made. When we look back at this period, it wouldn’t feel like a big deal. I’ve recently worked out a script which I’ll be shooting next. It’s about the role of social media. I also want to make a film on farmer suicides, and the impact it will have on our lives. So I am doing my thing and not holding back.

Do you think the idea of dissent has been delegitimised to a point where it’s become impossible to speak one’s mind? AR Rahman recently had to apologise after talking about his experiences in the industry.

I cannot speak for anyone else. I have friends in the establishment who love the work I have been doing. I feel that, more than filmmakers, it is the journalism of this country which needs to wake up. That’s where we find our true heroes. Journalism is the fourth pillar of our democracy, not the film industry. The film industry can be a soft target. It has been used and misused down the ages. A lot of folks from the industry have used their popularity to enter politics without serving the nation being at the core of it. I can only think of Sunil Dutt saab who did it for the right reason. But for the country to be on the right track, it’s the journalists who need to course-correct. I really want to talk to them and ask, brother, what’s going on?

Rakeysh Omprakash Mehra on 20 Years of 'Rang De Basanti': ‘We Borrowed From Real Life, then Real Life Borrowed From Us' 

marks an interesting first for veteran Telugu film producer Suresh Babu. The upcoming film marks the first venture he has produced in the streaming space, an experience that he calls a learning curve. “Working with Amazon and seeing how things are done in a corporate culture was new. I wanted to see how this whole process works, because it's these large corporations that are making the volume of content today for the world, and that's the way it is going to be. There are independent producers, but within the distribution platform. I wanted to see if we can fit into this path,” he tells 

These streaming giants have also changed the risk-taking abilities of producers, Babu notes. “If an OTT guy doesn't buy your movie, you don't know what to do.  We were all given very handsome amounts from the OTT [platforms] earlier. So the entire cost of production rose beyond its natural level. But now, there's a pullback from them.” 

Vishwadev Rachakonda, who plays a significant role in 

, says working with established production houses makes an actor’s life easier. 

“When you pick a subject, and when there are the right makers attached to it, like Suresh sir or Amazon Prime, you know for a fact that the product will be delivered in the best possible manner. There could be restrictions on the genre. But when these makers are involved, you can give your best, and you can be at peace that your work will be presented. There are many factors behind a film, such as picking the right release day, press interactions and so on. These micro decisions have a huge impact on how your work is presented.” 

(2025), a slice-of-life drama co-starring Nivetha Thomas. “

Ever since my last film, I’ve had some really good opportunities. If you can do your role well, I’m sure there’s more work waiting for you.”

Babu, who has been producing films ever since Venkatesh’s hit action film 

in 1990, discerns a scale-up in storytelling innovations, but points out a gap in growth. “We have not grown as much as we could have, or we should have. We really need to up our standards quite a bit. That search for excellence is there, but it's not at the same pace as other industrie. 

We need to really ramp it up, because we are capable of making global cinema,” he says. “When India as a country can send a rocket to the moon, and we do it so well, why are we not

The producer also weighs in on the theatre ticket fare hikes (fares of tickets are hiked for certain big star films in various industries) prevalent in the Telugu film industry. “It's basically very controversial. Now, there are some states like Tamil Nadu, where they're fixed, and they said, we don't want a ticket hike. We want it [to be fixed] because we think that people should make [cinema] a habit, and it should not become too expensive. That’s one point of view. Now, the other point of view is we have lost a certain audience,” he says. 

But even if theatres cater only to wealthier audiences, there’s still a gap that needs to be filled, he notes. “There are enough people in India who can pay high prices for high popcorn. But actually, what we really need is a mix of everything, which we are losing; the multiplex culture brought in a lot of people who are not watching films in theaters.”

As the multiplexes came in, a lot of middle and low-level cinemas had to shut down, he says. “Earlier, films were available to watch for various ticket prices between ₹20 rupees and ₹50 rupees, and those auditoriums always used to be full. Now, that's gone. So, even if I want the basic ticket, it's like ₹150 or ​​₹250. So the audience is just [foregoing that habit]. And as people forego it, they start getting addicted to another habit of watching it on the mobile. So as one starts watching [movies on mobile], they slowly start dislocating themselves to cinema theatres,” he says, adding that this will continue to be an ongoing conversation.

Producer Suresh Babu On ‘Cheekatilo’ and Changing Film Landscape: If OTT Platforms Don't Buy The Film Today, You Don't Know What To Do

 loves being able to play women who don't fit in the conventional black and white. Whether it’s the hardy matchmaker Tara in 

(the Hindi version of the English language series of the same name

. For her next, Dhulipala is back to playing a woman with agency, but in her native language this time.

, a Telugu film which sees her play Sandhya, a true crime podcaster who tails a dreadful serial killer in Hyderabad. The upcoming film, produced by Suresh Babu Daggubati and directed by Sharan Koppisetty, will be available for streaming on Prime Video from January 23.

 and speaking her story in Telugu has been the most enjoyable, says Dhulipala in an interview with 

She has appeared in two Telugu titles before this: 

 that she realised the ease of delivering lines in Telugu.

, especially with how this podcast is done in the film. There's an interesting construction of the stanzas and so on. And I remember thinking, 'Damn, I wouldn't have felt as effortless or smooth if this had been in another language',” she says. 

“I'm very comfortable in other languages when I perform

 there's never been a barrier. But this made it enjoyable. It felt seamless, and I somehow felt like I was able to give more subconsciously… maybe through mannerisms or small things that I could draw from conversations with my family that I was able to apply. Because this is so close to the native culture I'm from.”

Dhulipala felt herself drawn to the script when she understood her character. “When I first read the script with the outer shell of treatment about her being a podcaster, a newish medium on the rise, it seemed fresh. But at its core, she is a natural leader who is stubborn about standing by the things she believes in, no matter how inconvenient the situations may be. Her ability to sit comfortably with uncertainty can be an interesting space. We conventionally have a strong woman archetype or a gentle, soft woman.” But she didn’t fit into one particular label. 

That also doesn’t mean Sandhya is fearless, she asserts. “She comes from a regular household in suburban Hyderabad. She has had a couple of uncomfortable experiences as a kid, but she refuses to be defined by them. She is not fearless, but she doesn't let her fear drive those decisions. There's a mental discipline and control with which she moves. These are attributes I like about a woman; this woman in this world is very much so. I like characters with agency who have consequences, so it was a natural yes.”

 is excited about a character, regardless of whether she’s liked or not — an edge that the streaming space provides to various female actors. “Am I traditional? Am I conservative or am I progressive? Nobody has the answer. Women are figuring a lot of things out 

with one foot in tradition and one in ambition

. Characters that reflect this essence are beautiful, and I have had the privilege of playing these parts in certain projects...these women with agency. Whether they are liked or not liked, 

 not of so much importance. In fact, it is totally irrelevant to me. Probably what I liked about this character, Sandhya, is that she is quite badass to me in her own way.”

Sobhita Dhulipala Interview: On ‘Cheekatilo’ And Enjoying Working in Telugu Cinema Again

 can rejoice because the iconic American rock band is set to debut in India and play two shows as part of their From Zero World Tour.

Colin Brittain's first stop will be in Bengaluru on January 23, after which they will make their way to Mumbai to headline Day 2 of this year's 

Ahead of their India debut, the band's bassist, Dave Farrell a.k.a Phoenix spoke to 

 about the band's accolades, debuting in India, his love for Indian food, and a lot more.

The story starts in 1996 with Xero, which later becomes Hybrid Theory and eventually in the year 2000, the world gets Linkin Park. Two Grammy awards, five American Music awards, four MTV VMA awards, and multiple sold-out world tours later, the band has once again received two nominations for the 2026 Grammy awards. How does it feel?

Dave Farrell: It's always nice to hear things put together like that. Even 30 years on, we get to do a lot of exciting things, including playing in India, which has been on our radar for a while. We get to experience a lot of new things, so it feels great.

Rumours of Linkin Park coming to India started circulating early last year and it brought a certain part of Indian pop-culture to a standstill. How long has this been in the making?

 It's been on the table to play in India for 20 years. We're lucky enough to have a fanbase and meet a lot of the fans from India that travel to other shows or interact with us on message boards. So, we've been very aware that there's a community that we've wanted to play for and experience the place. This tour has been in the works for probably a year now. You always have the preliminary investigations to see whether it would work, not just for India, but for every place that we decide to tour. The agents start to look at the places, our schedule, routings, and all these different things to see if it's even possible to make it make sense and India was a part of that conversation. So, when it did end up working out for us, it was a pretty exciting moment.

Was there a specific moment where the band said, 'Okay, let's make this happen!'

It was a series of a thousand small steps. We've been working with the same production manager for almost 20 years and he's a big part of making our shows and tours as successful as they are all across the world. At a certain point, he experienced and realised that India now has the infrastructure to do a great show that is safe for the fans. There have also been acts like 

Avenged Sevenfold that have come to India to perform and have said that the fans are incredible, which reconfirmed that if we get a chance to make it work, we got to do it.

After all these years, does the band still find it nerve-racking performing in front of a new crowd?

One thing I still appreciate about playing music is that every night is going to feel different. Whether you're playing your second night in a row in your hometown, whether you're in India, or anywhere around the world, there will always be variables that will make each night its own unique animal. Having said that, the Indian audience's warmth and the passion they have for music is very well-known and I'm excited to experience that. The shared communal energy is special and that is what we are most excited to see going into these two shows in India.

Talk to us about your relationship with Indian culture and arts. Have you come across any films or songs that you enjoyed or which stayed with you?

The first thing that comes to mind is Indian food. I hadn't travelled out of North America until I was 22 and in the process of touring and getting to see the world, I discovered that I loved London's version of Indian food. That was my very first step into Indian culture. Over the years, I was also exposed to Bollywood and the difference in the fun, colours, and music. India still has a really cool, exotically different feel to it and its arts that come across quite a bit when you grow up in southern California. I'm looking forward to our few days in India being a crash course in its culture, with the hope that we'll be back soon to experience it properly.

A lot of the band’s songs speak about themes of change inward and outward , finding oneself, resilience and more. Do you feel that they are just as important in today’s world as they were 20 years ago?

Music can communicate with people on multiple levels. There are the sounds and music itself, and then there's the lyrics and what is literally being said. I've always gravitated towards music that comes from a personal place and shares the feeling and core emotion of the place or scenario that you are in when you're making the music. 

Over the years we've found that a lot of those core emotions are universal. What I've really grown to love, along with our Linkin Park community, is that those universal emotions and the shared sense of community is always there. We're looking to put stuff out that connects people and lets them know that they are not alone in what they're feeling. We want to connect with you not only because you like the music, but also because that's what we like about the music too. At the end of it all there is a positivity in connecting together!

Exclusive | Linkin Park on Their India Debut: 'We Have Been Wanting to Play in India For 20 Years!'

At 8 a.m. on a Saturday, designer Anamika Khanna sips her coffee with oat milk, and doesn’t run to work like she once used to. Thirty years into her career, there’s a quiet confidence from having survived, shaped and helped define modern Indian fashion.

The designer launched her eponymous label in 1995 and began retailing at Ensemble. She has spent three decades questioning silhouettes, reworking heritage and resisting the pressure to become predictable.

Today, Khanna remains busy with runway shows and collections, but the context has changed dramatically. When she became the first Indian designer to show at Paris Fashion Week back in 2007, there was no social media, no instant communication, and little understanding of Indian fashion on a global stage. Indian designers were routinely questioned — on quality, wearability, relevance, often dismissed as being “too Indian”. 

One of her earliest, defining risks came when she reimagined the sari for a show — cutting it, pairing it with trousers, and sending it down the runway at a time when such acts were considered sacrilegious. Backstage, she panicked. “If the press thrashed you back then, you were finished,” she says. Instead, it reshaped how Indian women dressed.

Today, Indian craft walks global runways. Kolhapuri chappals are reinterpreted in luxury houses. International brands want to enter India. “It’s not the same world anymore,” Khanna says. “Now I have the bandwidth to say ‘I’m putting myself out there’, and if somebody criticises something I do, I can take it. It’s not going to finish my career.”

Her twin sons now also work closely with her across both her couture label Anamika Khanna, and her prêt label, AK|OK. Asked what it’s like to work with them, Khanna pauses, then laughs. “It’s traumatic,” she says. “And yet, the most beautiful thing ever.”

Sons Vishesh and Viraj have become integral to both the creative and operational sides of the business. Vishesh questions everything — whether an idea feels relevant, young enough, or already dated. Viraj, meanwhile, shares his mother’s artistic instinct. Together, they’ve also taken charge of sourcing, social media, negotiations, and accounting, allowing Khanna to focus more fully on design.

Subscribe

Subscribe

Subscribe

‘Shahrukhz by Danube’: Shah Rukh Khan Launches 55-Storey Eponymous Tower in Dubai

You may also like

You may also like

READ MORE ABOUT:

Latest News