On 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 northern lights: Watch DDLJ at Maratha Mandir (with the old-world popcorn stuffed and sealed into a plastic wrapper!)
The theatre is a nondescript building in the heart of Mumbai city, its history offers little. Its claim to fame is that it has shown Aditya Chopra’s 1995 hit musical drama every day for the past 30 years, making it the longest-running Indian film ever.
Despite its less-than-remarkable outer appearance, the inside of the single-screen film theatre instantly transported me back in time to a world without the glitz or glamour of the quintessential 3D or IMAX experience, where fans were the only form of air conditioning. It brings to life a world as it existed before PVR cinemas. And it is that world where Shah Rukh Khan’s life as an actor began. That’s the cognitive dissonance that Gen Z fans like me must encounter.
Maratha Mandir is a time-machine. For so many reasons. With a watercolour still of Raj and Simran in a sarson ke phool (mustard flower) field and the iconic but rather ugly, cow bell from the film on display in the lobby, the theatre is a shrine to the classic romcom.
The stage was set, the lights were off, the fans were on, and with my precious Rs 55 ticket tucked safely in my pocket, I sat with bated breath and waited for King Khan, desperate for him not to miss his train.
Also read: DDLJ, Devdas, Shakti—what trains represent in SRK films
Falling in love
I have been a SRK fan all my life. When I was nine years old, I bought an Om Shanti Om box set with the signed poster with my pocket money (and yes, that was a brag). But watching DDLJ on the big screen, I realised two things: One, young SRK just hits differently, and two, I really hope they never remake this film.
Shah Rukh Khan now is like a beautifully aged merlot, rich and potent, but the young Shah Rukh was a shot of tequila, capable of rewiring your system.
The film’s simple but corny tagline, “Come fall in love,” perfectly summed up its storyline. Raj and Simran’s instant-love was problematic on many levels, and their inability to ask the general public for help when lost and stranded was unexplained. But their missed opportunities and quiet stupidity made for the perfect summer romance, after all, “Bade bade deshon mein aisi choti choti baatein hoti hai” (In big countries, such small things keep happening).
When Raj and Simran run across London’s King’s Cross to catch their train, all phones in the hall rise up to catch the beginning of the iconic Bollywood scene. A scene that I believe started SRK’s long relationship with the railways.
Giggles echoed every time Raj flirted with Simran, you’d see a hand or a leg pop up with every dance number, quietly following the steps to the songs. In any other theatre you’d be shushed and shooed out but at Maratha Mandir watching DDLJ it is essential for an optimal viewing experience.
Shah Rukh Khan flirting and dancing his way through European vistas is a dream most Indian women have had, thanks to Adi Chopra. But what makes Raj special is that even when he is being a creep—like troubling Simran in the train or on the dance floor, scenes that have not aged well at all—and watching a retreating Simran, murmuring ‘Palat, palat, palat’, it doesn’t feel creepy. Beneath the slouchy, leather-clad exterior is a loving boy with a great relationship with his father (kudos to that), who plays a killer tune on his mandolin.
His boyish charm, youthful vigour, and an inexplicable likability make Raj the perfect reformed playboy and delicious eye-candy (yes, I am referring to Simran’s Kammo bua). Yes, he is a walking red flag, and yes, whenever I come across a man like that in real life, I run in the other direction. But in my defence, the only reason most of us like/love Raj is because he comes in a SRK-wrapped package. There simply is no other reason. Imagine any other actor playing Raj and you will get the ick.
Also read: Shah Rukh Khan’s India is about love, not hate. Chak De! India to My Name Is Khan
A bygone era
When a young SRK walks across the screen, flaunts his dimples and lightly shakes his head, one gets a fuzzy feeling in their stomach. I don’t get that feeling watching him now and it is not because he is old, it is simply because over the years Shah Rukh Khan has transformed from the lovable boy-next-door to a pillar of Indian cinema with a mighty stage presence.
Now, when SRK walks across the screen, flaunts his dimples and lightly shakes his head, one gets the memo that this is someone to be revered. Yes, he has retained his boyishness but those characteristics now remind one of a by-gone era. Today, there are more Kabir Singhs than Raj Malhotras.
Although DDLJ’s story was not a novel one, what it lacked in originality it made up for with its quirky characters and cheeky little bits. The datedness of its premise and the fact that a father just decided to marry off his barely legal daughter without even asking her makes it a little questionable in today’s cancel culture-obsessed, politically correct world.
But I am not ready to trade it in for a newer version, and I say it with conviction that there are many (several hundred thousand all across the world) who wouldn’t either.
I don’t want to see Simran running to catch the metro or Raj texting her, “You up?” Chopra’s DDLJ is quaint like Puraani Dilli, loud and chaotic, but still comforting like rajma chawal.
Besides, there will never be another Shah Rukh Khan, so really, there is no point trying.
(Edited by Theres Sudeep)