Before the revolution, when I was just a child—perhaps three or four years old—my mother would take me to the cinema. We’d go to see cartoons, children’s films, and occasionally Westerns or Indian films. Whenever we planned to watch a Hindi movie, my grandmother and my youngest aunt, then a teenager, would join us. Going to the movies was a weekly ritual in our family, something we never skipped. As a result, we sometimes watched certain films more than once—sometimes even three or four times. Indian films in particular stood out in this way.
I still vividly remember watching Sangam multiple times at the cinema—perhaps even more than three. Then there was Awara, and Nargis, starring the beloved Indian actress Nargis, alongside Raj Kapoor, who was the leading man in most of these films and, to my childhood eyes, endlessly charming and lovable. But the iconic film Sholay takes me back not to the cinema, but to the secret world of underground VHS tapes and smuggled Betamax cassettes. The video revolution had just begun. I saw Sholay for the first time at my older aunt’s house on Gavi Alley, in Tehran’s Jolfa neighborhood. As far as I remember, the film was dubbed into Persian—except for the songs.
My cousins and I were mesmerized by the famous scene where Basanti dances barefoot on shattered glass. I think we reenacted that moment thousand times. One cousin would play Gabbar Singh, and another would be Jai—tied up with arms stretched out. I suspect this was a shared memory for many of my generation in those early post-revolution years. This year, Sholay turns 50. It remains one of the most important films in the history of Indian cinema—so influential that one could say it divides Bollywood into “before” and “after.” It gave birth to a new cinematic genre in India—akin to the Spaghetti Westerns of Italy—known as the “Curry Western.” This genre borrowed tropes from Westerns and blended them with local Indian cinema: hyper-masculine heroes, merciless villains, deep male friendships, unrestrained violence, nature as a narrative backdrop, and, ultimately, the triumph of good over evil.
Sholay was released in 1975, on India’s Independence Day, and remained in theaters for five consecutive years. Recently, a fully restored and extended version of the film—running over three hours and featuring previously censored scenes—was screened twice at the open-air Il Cinema Ritrovato festival in Bologna, Italy. Directed by Ramesh Sippy, Sholay tells the story of two small-time thieves recruited to help capture one of India’s most ruthless bandits. That villain—Gabbar Singh—has terrorized a village, holding its people in a grip of fear. Gabbar is one of the most iconic antagonists in Indian cinematic history and has been endlessly imitated in Bollywood ever since. The film’s plot closely resembles that of The Magnificent Seven (1960), directed by John Sturges, in which seven gunmen help liberate a village from Mexican bandits. Only two of them survive.
What keeps Sholay alive after five decades is everything it contains: the unforgettable friendship between Jai and Veeru, two outlaws riding a motorcycle while singing a song that many still hum today; their love stories with two village women—one quiet and composed, the other spirited and full of life; the epic dance of Basanti to save Jai’s life; the tragic death of Thakur’s wife and children and the loss of his hands; the legendary dialogues, repeated endlessly in movies, TV, and even political speeches; and of course, the climactic shootouts. These elements became templates that continue to shape Bollywood to this day.
Sholay is a blend of love, tragedy, melodrama, action, humor, dance, music, and sweeping landscapes—forests, mountains, plains. All of these combine to imprint the film deeply into the cultural memory of more than a billion people. Its themes also touch on ideas of freedom, justice, and resistance. The villagers, long oppressed by a bloodthirsty tyrant who rules them through violence and stolen wealth, finally rise up. They yearn for liberation and equality. Through solidarity, they overcome the dictator—but not without a price. Jai (played by Amitabh Bachchan) sacrifices his life in the process.
Amitabh Bachchan’s performance as Jai launched him to international stardom. For many Iranians, this film was their first introduction to him. Hema Malini, who played Basanti, dazzled viewers with her dance sequences, and Amjad Khan’s unforgettable portrayal of Gabbar Singh remains vivid in Iranian memory even decades later. Sholay is one of the highest-grossing films in Indian cinematic history and had a cultural impact far beyond India—including in Iran. During those years of fear and repression—marked by executions, bombings, and constant red sirens—Jai and Veeru, Radha and Basanti, and Thakur offered our generation a vibrant dreamscape. They filled our imaginations with color, courage, music, and sunshine.