Everything about 'UY' is new and fresh, and we are extremely

The words of Akkineni Nagarjuna are filled with both joy and pride: “Everything about UY is new and fresh, and we are extremely happy at the response from the audiences, as most people are walking out of cinema halls with a smile on their faces.” At their heart, these words are not only about a film, but about the eternal power of art to awaken delight, to bring renewal, and to send people back into the world lighter than when they entered. For when an audience leaves a hall with smiles, it is proof that the work has touched not only the mind but also the soul.

To call something “new and fresh” is to speak of rebirth. In every age, humanity hungers for renewal—for a story told differently, for a vision that awakens wonder, for the chance to feel as if the world has been made again. Nagarjuna, by celebrating the originality of UY, speaks of this universal thirst. Just as the spring rains revive the earth after a long and weary season, so too a fresh creation revives the heart of an audience weary of repetition. This is the divine role of art: to remind us that novelty is not just entertainment, but a reflection of life’s ever-renewing spirit.

The happiness of the artist at the response of the audience is also deeply human. For though art may be born in solitude, it lives in communion. A story untold, a performance unseen, is like a flame hidden under a jar—it cannot fulfill its purpose. Nagarjuna rejoices not merely in the success of the film, but in the fact that it has become a shared joy, that it has planted smiles upon the faces of countless strangers. This is the artist’s greatest reward: not the coin of fame, but the living testimony of laughter, applause, and light shining in the eyes of the people.

History offers us many mirrors of this truth. Consider Shakespeare in Elizabethan England. His plays were not for kings alone, but for the common folk, the merchants, the sailors, the scholars, and the beggars. When the Globe Theatre erupted in laughter or tears, it was proof that the playwright’s words had bridged the gulf between souls. Just as in Nagarjuna’s time, the sight of an audience departing with smiles meant that something sacred had taken place—that the burdens of life had been lightened, that the spirit had been refreshed.

And what greater power exists than the power to transform the face of another? Nations may be conquered, fortunes may be won and lost, but the ability to bring joy into another’s life is a gift of eternal worth. Nagarjuna’s words remind us that cinema, like music, like poetry, carries this ancient power. It may not heal the body, but it heals the heart, and this, too, is medicine. When people leave with smiles, they leave with strength.

The lesson for us is profound: in whatever craft we pursue—whether in art, in teaching, in service, or in daily living—we should strive to leave others with smiles upon their faces. Renewal, originality, and joy should be our offering to the world. Let us remember that the true measure of our work is not the weight of wealth or the praise of critics, but the simple testimony of those who walk away lighter than before.

Therefore, let each of us labor to create something “new and fresh” in our own lives. It may be a kind word spoken differently, a task done with unexpected excellence, or an act of generosity that surprises and uplifts. Like UY, let our contributions breathe renewal into weary hearts. And when we see others leave our presence with smiles, we shall know that we, too, have been artists of joy, storytellers of hope, and servants of the greater good.

Thus, Nagarjuna’s words become more than a celebration of a film; they become a timeless teaching: that the highest calling of any creation is to gladden the spirit, to renew the soul, and to send people forth into the world with smiles on their faces, carrying the memory of joy as a light against life’s shadows.