KARACHI: Curtains have dropped on many cinema houses in Karachi, or for that matter, all over Pakistan in recent years but the announcement of the final closure of Nishat Cinema, located on what was once Bunder Road (now M.A. Jinnah Road) has evoked what seems like a tidal wave of despondency.

It was burnt down on Sept 21, 2012 by a mob protesting against the uploading of an anti-Islamic film on Youtube. The other three cinemas damaged by the protesters were Capri, Bambino and Prince in the same locality but Nishat was the worst affected. “We waited for the fire brigade to come and extinguish the inferno till midnight, but it didn’t come to our rescue,” says Nawab Hasan Siddiqi, the manager of Nishat for more than two decades.

It was almost totally burnt down. And now three years later the management of the cinema decided to call it a day. Naz Cinema, opposite Nishat, had downed the shutter at least two decades earlier.

Nishat had gone into hibernation in 2007 but when retired Gen Pervez Musharraf gave a special permission to import K. Asif’s magnum opus Mughal-i-Azam, the movie theatre was revamped and refurbished. But the movie, which did record-breaking business when it was released in India in 1960, was a few decades too late. Also many people had, by that time, seen the movie on videos.

Nishat was built by Hussain Baig Mohammed, a businessman from what was then Bombay, immediately after partition. It was inaugurated by Mohatarma Fatima Jinnah on Dec 25, 1947, the birthday of her brother. Years later, in 1962, when the cinema was bought by Yusuf Mandviwala, Fazle Karim Fazli, a retired civil servant and poet, released his maiden production Chiragh jalta raha in Nishat and the movie was opened for screening by none other than Miss Jinnah.

As a schoolboy in the mid-fifties, I used to visit the cinema every alternate Saturday. The management had started a club for kids on the lines of Metro Cub Club at Metro Cinema, Bombay, which was owned by Hollywood’s mega production house MGM. For merely one rupee (not a small sum in those days), children could see a movie every alternate Saturday. There were no shows in March because in those days it was the month when final exams took place in schools and colleges.

In that one rupee subscription one could also borrow a book from the library, located on the first floor. In the last Saturday of the month a talent contest preceded the film show. My younger brother, Asad, now no more, once got the first prize for his ‘fight’ with an invisible man. He asked me to hold it tight on the way home, because two weeks earlier after the show a child’s trophy was snatched by a street urchin, who was bigger and stronger than the rightful owner of the prize.

By the way, the bus stop where Nishat was located was called ‘Naz-o-Nishat’. Cinemas like restaurants lend their names to their locations which remain in use well after they cease to exist. Cases in point are Regal Chowk in Saddar and Liberty Chowk in PECHS.

In the period that I am referring to Urdu films were screened at Naz Cinema, while English-language movies were released in Nishat. As in all movie houses, Urdu film shows started 30 minutes before English films were screened. Also English films, except those which had longer running time such as Ben Hur, were projected after the interval. The pre-intermission period was devoted to trailers of upcoming movies and more often than not, there were Walt Disney’s cartoons. Tom and Jerry was perhaps the most popular cartoon series.

The entry tickets in cinemas showing Urdu films were cheaper than those issued by the ones screening English films. Except for Palace Cinema, which was also owned by the Baig Mohammed family, all leading show houses had two levels, the most expensive seats were on the upper level, called gallery or grand circle. Khayyam Cinema also had two boxes, which were generally the haunt of young romantics, who held hands in the dark. My one and only chance was lost when the young lady I had invited came with a chaperone, her aunt. The spoilsport decided to sit in between. My friends from whom I had borrowed some money for the romantic rendezvous were generous enough to write off my loan. Soon after, the young lady married her mother’s cousin. I thought the world would come to an end. I am now glad it didn’t.

Back to cinemas, in those days leading movie theatres such as Capitol, Rex, Palace and Nishat showed old hits on Sundays in morning shows. Thus one could see the movies one had missed or one wanted to see again. Rock Hudson and Gina Lollobrigida’s Come September was one movie that was screened almost every quarter. And, sure enough, it invariably attracted what was called ‘the capacity audience’.

Those were the days when we dressed up in our best clothes when we went to see movies in these cinemas, because we invariably ran into someone we knew. Women, in particular, tried to wear a different dress each time they went to see a movie.

While one munched pop corns or wafers (as potato chips were then called) during the show, one went for tea, lunch or dinner before or after the show.

The show still goes on. Instead of large halls there are multiplexes and they have their own charm. So, happy viewing but not without muttering a silent prayer for Nishat.

The writer was the editor of Eastern Film, Pakistan’s most widely circulated monthly, in the1960s.

Published in Dawn, January 22nd, 2015

On a mobile phone? Get the Dawn Mobile App: Apple Store | Google Play