Cinema Kathalu Episode One.

At 10:30 PM, inside Vizianagaram's Leelamahal Theatre, it was a typical Saturday night. The second show screening of Rajinikanth's "Baba" was in progress. My dad, who worked as a booking clerk at the theater, had finished issuing tickets for the second show and was preparing to head home. The balcony section was almost full, and I found myself in the A row, watching the film for the third time that day. Earlier, I had already seen the morning show and the first show screening, and now, I was catching the second show.

My dad approached me as he was getting ready to leave the theater, having finished his work for the night. He arrived while the movie was still playing and kindly asked if I would join him to head home. I responded, saying that I would come home after I'd finished watching the film.

He looked at me with concern and asked, "Who will bring you home at midnight?" I confidently replied, "I'll just walk home." His expression grew more frustrated, and he asked me once again to accompany him home. Yet again, I firmly declined. It was clear he had dealt with various people and countless vexing situations while issuing tickets in the counter, and my refusal was putting a strain on his patience. With a worried tone, he said, "Coming home alone at midnight is not safe." He urged me, this time with patience, to come home with him. However, I remained adamant, repeating my refusal once more.

He reached his breaking point, losing patience entirely. Without hesitation, he grasped my shirt collar, forcibly lifted me from my seat, and dragged me out of the theater. I cried out, feeling like a trapped baby pig struggling in a net. He settled me in front baby seat of his Atlas cycle, despite my tearful protests, he took me home.

I experienced a deep sense of emptiness, a feeling that something essential was lacking. Leaving the theater without watching the entire film just didn't feel like the right choice. I felt like something was missing, a sense of incompleteness. I wanted to see every scene of the film again and again, feel the music once more, and watch Rajinikanth in action, giving those stern warnings to the bad guys, dancing, and delivering his memorable lines. I just want to witness everything again and again. I found it difficult to accept the idea of leaving the theater after only an hour into the film. It felt like an incomplete experience, leaving me with a sense of unease.

That night, I found myself tossing and turning in bed, unable to find any rest. The film had made such a lasting impression on me that the longing to watch it until the end was like a heavy burden on my mind. Sleep simply wouldn't come as I kept replaying the scenes and dialogues in my head. I couldn't shake off the feeling of wanting to return and experience Rajinikanth's performance on cinema screen.

I slept soundly until 9 AM the following Sunday. Knowing that my dad would be leaving for the theater at 9:30 AM to issue tickets for the morning show, I hurriedly brushed my teeth, took a quick shower, and then stood by his cycle as he was getting ready to leave.

I calmly told him, "nenu vasta," to which he inquired, "ekkadiki?" I replied with a smile, "cinemaki," Top of Form

He wore an expression of uncertainty, unsure of how to react. Meanwhile, my mom's concerned shouts could be heard from the kitchen, expressing worry about my obsessive passion for films. However, my dad smiled, picked me up, and placed me on the baby seat of his Atlas cycle. Together, we headed to the theater, and once we arrived, he let me sit on his lap at the booking counter as he issued tickets. As the show's start time drew near, I couldn't contain my excitement. I leaped out of his lap and rushed into the theater, my face beaming with joy. I didn't need food or water at that moment. Cinema is my sustenance, my lifeline. To me, cinema was not just a source of entertainment; it is love, it is life, it is happiness.