People are patronizing the theatres with renewed enthusiasm -

Host: The evening shimmered with that kind of light only found near cinema halls — neon colors bleeding into the air, marquees buzzing, the faint smell of popcorn drifting through the crowd. The theatre stood like a cathedral of stories, its posters plastered in bright yellows and reds, promising laughter, love, and explosions of light.

The street outside was alive — children tugging at their parents’ sleeves, vendors selling roasted corn, a man balancing paper cups of cola, teenagers taking selfies under the marquee’s glow. The air felt like a festival.

Inside, in the quiet corner of the lobby, Jack leaned against a poster of an action movie, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd. Jeeny stood beside him, her hair catching the flickering light of the trailers playing on a nearby screen. She smiled — the kind of soft smile only people who love cinema truly understand.

Jeeny: “Salman Khan once said, ‘People are patronizing the theatres with renewed enthusiasm — there’s an entire picnic-like attitude when families go out to see movies. They want to see larger-than-life characters on the big screen, not just watch films at home.’”

Host: Jack chuckled — that low, rough sound that came from equal parts cynicism and nostalgia.

Jack: “Ah, the cinema as religion again.”

Jeeny: “Isn’t it? Look around — people dressed up, holding hands, kids running around like it’s Christmas. He’s right. There’s something about this that’s sacred.”

Jack: “Sacred? It’s commerce with better lighting.”

Jeeny: smiling “You always miss the magic hiding inside the machine.”

Host: The crowd began to swell, a tide of voices, laughter, and the hum of anticipation. A boy clutched his ticket like it was treasure. A mother fixed her daughter’s hair. A group of young men argued over the hero’s last film.

Jeeny watched them, eyes warm, heart alive.

Jeeny: “You know, for a while, I thought movies had lost their place. Everyone sitting alone with their screens, streaming silently. But now, when theatres fill up again — it feels like humanity remembering how to dream together.”

Jack: “Dreams are cheaper on Netflix.”

Jeeny: “But not the same. Watching a movie at home is private. Watching it here — it’s communal. It’s ritual.”

Jack: “Ritual’s just repetition dressed as meaning.”

Jeeny: “No, it’s connection. When the lights dim and the projector starts — strangers become a single heartbeat. You laugh with them, cry with them, gasp with them. For two hours, the world makes sense again.”

Host: The lights flickered, signaling the show was about to begin. The faint hum of the projector bled through the walls — that warm, nostalgic sound of film rolling through gears, the heart of the theatre waking.

Jack: “I remember that sound. My father used to take me to see old westerns. He’d buy one bag of popcorn, pretend it was for both of us, then eat three-quarters before the credits rolled.”

Jeeny: “See? Even cynics have soft spots.”

Jack: smiling faintly “Yeah. Maybe the theatre wasn’t just about movies. Maybe it was the one place life paused long enough for people to feel something together.”

Jeeny: “Exactly. Khan’s right — it’s not just about spectacle. It’s about presence. When people come here, they’re not just watching characters; they’re witnessing themselves — louder, braver, larger than life.”

Host: The first wave of audience began moving into the hall. The smell of butter and caramel thickened. Jeeny and Jack lingered, neither quite ready to go in.

Jack: “Still, you can’t deny — it’s nostalgia dressed as novelty. People crave the old thrill because they’ve worn out the new toys.”

Jeeny: “Maybe. But isn’t that beautiful? That after all this — the streaming, the isolation, the noise — people still come back to sit in the dark and believe in something bigger than themselves?”

Jack: “Belief’s dangerous.”

Jeeny: “Not when it’s shared.”

Host: The lights dimmed completely now; the crowd hushed as the theatre doors opened wide. A wash of golden light spilled across the floor. For a moment, Jack’s face softened — the way a man’s face does when he remembers something he didn’t know he’d forgotten.

Jack: “You really think cinema still matters?”

Jeeny: “I think stories still matter. Cinema’s just the fire we gather around to tell them.”

Host: Jack looked toward the glowing entrance — the darkened hall beyond like a mouth opening into another world.

Jack: “And what about the spectacle? The larger-than-life heroes, the perfect endings — don’t they lie to people?”

Jeeny: “Maybe. But lies that remind us of who we could be aren’t the worst kind. People need to see greatness before they can try to live it.”

Jack: “So you think the hero saves us?”

Jeeny: “No. The story does. Because every time a hero rises on screen, something rises inside the audience too.”

Host: The music from the film’s opening sequence began to spill into the lobby — strings swelling, drums thundering. Jack and Jeeny stood at the threshold, bathed in flickering light.

Jeeny: “Listen to that.”

Jack: “What?”

Jeeny: “The heartbeat of hope.”

Host: Jack smiled — the faintest, truest kind. He looked around at the families laughing, the lovers holding hands, the old couple walking slowly toward the seats. The theatre was alive — not with luxury, but with something older, simpler: joy.

Jack: “You know, maybe you’re right. Maybe we need these worlds to remind us how to feel in our own.”

Jeeny: “Exactly. People don’t go to escape reality. They go to remember what it’s supposed to feel like.”

Host: The usher waved them in. Jeeny turned, eyes alight.

Jeeny: “Come on, philosopher. The previews are about to start.”

Jack: grinning now “Since when do you like previews?”

Jeeny: “Since they remind me there’s always something new to look forward to.”

Host: They stepped inside, and the doors closed behind them. The theatre plunged into darkness. The first flicker of light hit the screen — shadows and sound weaving themselves into story.

In that instant, the audience became one — hearts syncing to the rhythm of a shared dream.

And as Jack and Jeeny sat together in the dim glow, they realized what Salman Khan had meant:

that even in a fractured, digitized world, there are still places where people gather not to escape life —
but to feel it, amplified — larger-than-life —
in the flickering temple of light that cinema will always be.