"Welcome to Star Cinema Film Information.."

Do you ever get this feeling—when you wake up feeling like a version of yourself from many years ago? Maybe the version of you from when you were still a kid—those days that make you smile, when the world looked colorful to your eyes?

Life in Muscat between 2008 and 2011 hits differently. Thursdays and Fridays were still the weekends. Al Jadeeda stores were everywhere, and the modest Safeer stood strong before a modernized Al Meera took over. Oman Avenues Mall had just begun construction, and Star Cinema was the go-to theatre for all Indians.

The internet era still hadn’t arrived in my house. The old chunky Napro television set ran more advertisements than shows, and the Tata Sky set-top box gleamed beneath it—easily the most luxurious thing we owned. Even the Tata Sky remotes felt fancy.

Every Wednesday afternoon, as I walked back home from school, I’d be buzzing. Not because of the weekend, but because something exciting might happen later that evening. I wouldn’t utter a word about it though. I’d savor the anticipation in silence. I'd have lunch with my jaw feeling loose from excitement. A swarm of butterflies would dance in my stomach, and I’d smile involuntarily. Hours would pass—from 3 PM to 4 PM, and then it would roll into 5 PM, and around 6 PM—my mother’s phone would ring. A loud, squeaky ringtone would echo through the house like a thunderclap.

“I’ll come home in a while. Call Star Cinema Film Information and check what movies are showing now,” my dad would murmur on the other side of the phone, likely walking toward his car.

That’s all I needed to hear. I’d leap from one couch to the other like I was doing parkour, grinning from ear to ear. The excitement of going to the theatre back then hit differently. Unlike now, trailers and sneak peeks weren’t everywhere. We had no clue what awaited us until we got there.

I’d dial the number I had saved on my mother’s phone. A monotone robotic voice would answer and clearly enunciate:

“Welcome to Star Cinema Film Information. Today’s cinema...”

I’d pay close attention to each film title, each cast member, and the showtimes, and note them all down on a sheet of paper. Then I’d take a quick shower, get dressed in my best clothes, and sit, ready—feeling like I was about to go on a date. Nervous, excited, and wary of disappointment. But guess what? Dates could disappoint you. Star Cinema never did.

A few minutes later, my dad would walk into the house and ask if I’d finalized my choice. I’d nod, exhilarated.

But the nervousness didn't disappear just yet. We had to drive all the way to Star Cinema, stand in the queue in front of the tiny ticket stall, check if there were tickets, and if there were, check if we got good seats. Then we’d get the fresh tickets printed, which would first find comfort in my palm, and then my mother's handbag, before being ruthlessly torn apart by the guy in front of the screen.

It was not just about the movies at Star Cinema, it was the whole vibe. It looked like a tiny circus tent from outside, and it felt like a whole world existed within it. It even had this amazing coffee shop with Samosa, Pazhampori, and Chai, that we'd devour before going for the show. A modest Popcorn and Pepsi counter stood strong near the entrance. I smile as I write this blog, recollecting all the details of the ordinary cinema theatre that played an extraordinary part in my life, my creativity, my stories. Even the most boring films felt exciting in that place.

Going to Star Cinema for movies was a weekly affair at home—it was our family bonding time. Some days, we’d get the tickets for midnight and chill at the parking lot, eating loads of Pazhampori and Chai.

As the years rolled by, the weekends shifted to Fridays and Saturdays. Avenues Mall grew in size and popularity, and so did multiplex cinemas like Vox and Cinepolis. Star Cinema slowly faded into a memory. It slowly drove itself farther into oblivion amongst the Indian diaspora, but the memories it gave us never would.

I still feel the excitement as we drive past an almost dysfunctional Star Cinema even now, which still stands there as an ode to simpler times.