
Aamir Khan To Visit Lagaan's Kunariya Village After 25 Years To Screen Sitaare Zameen Par
Aamir Khan to screen Sitaare Zameen Par in the same village where Lagaan was shot.
Twenty-five years after shooting Lagaan in the dusty village of Kunariya near Bhuj, Aamir Khan is returning. This time, it's not to shoot a film, but to share one. The actor will host a special screening of his latest film, Sitaare Zameen Par, in the same village that played a major role in shaping one of Indian cinema's most iconic productions.
This emotional homecoming reflects Aamir's bond with Kunariya, where he spent several months filming Lagaan in 2000. The film, set in the fictional village of Champaner, was shot in and around this rural region of Kutch. It went on to receive both national and international acclaim, including an Oscar nomination.
Cinema For Everyone With 'Janta Ka Theatre'
According to Bollywood Hungama, the screening is part of Aamir's new initiative, Janta Ka Theatre, which aims to make films more accessible by releasing them directly on YouTube. The idea is simple. It's to bring cinema to the people, wherever they live, allowing everyone to enjoy it without needing to visit a theatre.
Aamir has chosen Kunariya as the first stop for this campaign, underscoring his intent to connect with audiences beyond India's major cities. Meanwhile, a source from the film industry told Bollywood Hungama, 'Aamir was deeply moved by the idea of reconnecting with the people of Kunariya, a village that holds immense emotional and cinematic value for him. He wanted to express gratitude and share his latest film with the community that played such a crucial role in one of his biggest milestones."
A Film That Echoes Lagaan's Spirit
Just like Lagaan, Sitaare Zameen Par focuses on strong emotions, values that remain central to Aamir's storytelling style. The screening is expected to be a small, personal event, Bollywood Hungama states.
Aamir will also take time to meet with villagers, relive memories and visit the old shooting locations. For him, this isn't just a trip down memory lane, it is a way of bringing cinema full circle, from reel to digital, and from urban theatres to rural courtyards.
YouTube Release On August 1
At a press conference in Mumbai on July 29, Aamir announced that Sitaare Zameen Par would not be released on any OTT platform. Instead, it will be available on YouTube from August 1 for Rs 100 in India, according to Hindustan Times.
The film will also be released in multiple countries, including the USA, UK, Canada, Germany, Australia, Indonesia, Singapore, Philippines, and Spain, with local pricing. Viewers will have the option of subtitles and some dubbed versions.
This YouTube-first release and the special village screening mark a new chapter in how Aamir Khan wants to share his stories, with more people, more directly and more meaningfully.
First Published:
Disclaimer: Comments reflect users' views, not News18's. Please keep discussions respectful and constructive. Abusive, defamatory, or illegal comments will be removed. News18 may disable any comment at its discretion. By posting, you agree to our Terms of Use and Privacy Policy.
Hashtags

Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles


Indian Express
8 minutes ago
- Indian Express
Austen's Jane is the friend you need
It is a truth often ignored that the Pride and Prejudice screen adaptations are unfair to her secondary characters. As the 2005 movie returns to Indian cinemas and a new series hits Netflix, amid all the sizzle and dazzle of the lead pair, another generation of viewers will probably dismiss Jane Bennet as the sweet, boring sister of Elizabeth. However, the eldest Miss Bennet was written with more substance than is universally acknowledged, and she would probably be a better friend than the clever Lizzy in today's world. One of the many reasons the charms of Pride and Prejudice refuse to fade is how easily the main story adapts to the screen. Jane Austen's sparkling dialogue can directly be lifted into the screenplay, and the lead characters, Elizabeth and Mr Darcy, confirm to modern sensibilities. Written 200 years ago, Elizabeth has more spirit and verve than many 21st century heroines. The rich, brooding Mr Darcy is an atypical romance hero in that he actually understands consent. In contrast, Jane Bennet's rather unfashionable and non-camera-friendly virtues seem to be patience, forgiveness, and suffering in silence. In fact, most movies don't even do her the justice of adhering to the one fact the novel hammers on, that Jane is much more beautiful than Elizabeth. But the thing about the book Jane is this — she is not just beautiful and sweet, she is kind and strong, and has good judgement without the need to judge. Austen repeatedly alludes to Jane's good sense, steady disposition, and moral courage. When the Bingleys are pressing her to stay on at Netherfield, Austen writes, 'Jane was firm where she felt herself to be in the right.' When Lizzy says Jane can never see a fault in anybody, she replies, 'I would not wish to be hasty in censuring anyone; but I always speak what I think', which Elizabeth agrees is the case. Elizabeth is the favourite of her dad, the intelligent, witty parent, while throughout the book, Jane is taking care of their mother, the petulant, embarrassing parent. While Elizabeth goes vacationing with her aunt and uncle, it is Jane who is best suited to 'play with, teach, and love' their four small children. And of course, it is Jane's assessment of Mr Darcy that turns out to be the right one, after all. One of the most telling commentaries on Jane's character comes from Austen much later in the book, when Elizabeth tells her about Wickham's true character. Jane would 'willingly have gone through the world without believing that so much wickedness existed in the whole of mankind, as was here collected in one individual'. And this is why I think she would make for a better friend than Lizzy in today's world — choosing to believe in the goodness of the world and its inhabitants, in the face of staggering counter-evidence. While their circumstances turn Elizabeth cynical, Jane continues to believe that romance and love and hope and goodness are around and even aplenty. Also, Jane refuses to perform. Throughout the book, there is no scene of her being singled out to play or sing, or of some sparkling repartee she delivers. Her good sense and brains are all displayed in acts of care or confidence. Liz and Charlotte even discuss how she does not display her affection for Bingley. In the hyper-performative age we live in, Jane's willingness to forever pass the mic would be truly radical. At a time when we seem to live for likes and views, a stunningly beautiful woman who refused to play for attention is refreshing. The sparkle of Lizzie Bennet will never fade. But it is the steady light of Jane we need when our hearts feel heavy and dark. The writer is Senior Assistant Editor, The Indian Express


Time of India
30 minutes ago
- Time of India
'Mahavatar Narsimha' box office collection day 9: Ashwin Kumar directorial collects Rs 15 crore on its second Saturday; set to reach Rs 70 crore
Picture Credit: X Ashwin Kumar's mythological animated feature 'Mahavatar Narsimha' is having an incredible impact on the box office with its phenomenal run. Despite being a fully animated film, the movie has managed to break barriers and exceed expectations across the country. According to early estimates from trade analyst Sacnilk, Mahavatar Narsimha collected an impressive Rs 15 crore India net on its ninth day (Saturday), taking its total collection to Rs 67.95 crore. The film had already put up a strong first-week performance, earning Rs 44.75 crore in seven days. On its second Friday, the movie garnered Rs 7.7 crore. The film is now set to reach the Rs 70 crore mark soon, making it one of the most successful Indian animated films ever. Theatre Occupancy The film witnessed an impressive footfall in the Telugu-speaking regions on Saturday, August 2, 2025. With an overall occupancy of 74.08% in Telugu, the film's popularity is only growing stronger. Morning shows had a decent start with 46.36% occupancy, which surged significantly in the afternoon to 74.60%. Evening shows drew large crowds with an 81.77% turnout, while the night shows peaked at a stellar 93.57%. The Hindi version of Mahavatar Narsimha is also showing healthy signs of growth, particularly in metro cities and North Indian territories. by Taboola by Taboola Sponsored Links Sponsored Links Promoted Links Promoted Links You May Like Treatment That Might Help You Against Knee Pain Knee pain | search ads Find Now Undo On Saturday, the film posted an overall 57.17% Hindi occupancy. The morning shows opened at 30.37%, and steadily climbed through the day, 53.14% in the afternoon, 62.70% in the evening, and a strong 82.47% by night. In Tamil Nadu and other regions with Tamil-speaking audiences, Mahavatar Narsimha held its ground well with an overall occupancy of 66.66% on Saturday. Morning shows started at 35.64%, followed by a strong afternoon (68.94%), high evening turnout 77.85%, and a sharp rise at night to 84.20%. Co-written by Jayapurna Das and Rudra Pratap Ghosh, 'Mahavatar Narsimha' has been earning praise on social media for its animation quality, spiritual themes, and engaging storytelling.


Hindustan Times
38 minutes ago
- Hindustan Times
I don't want to break away, I just want space to breathe, says flautist Ritik Chaurasia
MUMBAI: Before he ever played a note, Ritik Chaurasia had already inherited a sound, not just a surname. It was a legacy carried in every bamboo joint and note, hung gently on a breath. In Ritik's world, silence carries memory. And melody, an expectation. His lullabies weren't nursery rhymes, they were ragas, says flautist Rakesh Chaurasia of his son Ritik (right) being born into Pt Hariprasad Chaurasia's legacy. (Photo by Satish Bate/ Hindustan Times) (Hindustan Times) The grandson of Pt Hariprasad Chaurasia—who lifted the humble bansuri from pastoral anonymity to the grandest concert stages of the world—and the son of the virtuoso Rakesh Chaurasia, 25-year-old Ritik lives at the confluence of memory and music. But for a long time, he wondered if it would ever become his own music, his own memory. Across the room where Ritik practises each morning, on a mantle stands a relic with quiet authority—the very first flute Chaurasia brought with him to Bombay in 1959. Its wood worn with time, it still hums with dreams. 'It watches me,' Ritik half-jests. 'Some days it comforts me, while on others it reminds me to breathe slower. And some days it intimidates me, reminding me of the mountain of a musician in whose footsteps I must follow.' 'People don't just listen to me—they listen for echoes. Of guruji. Of papa. Of a sound that shaped a generation,' he says. 'But, while I am a Chaurasia, I am also Ritik—a 25-year-old still finding his phrasing.' And therein lies the paradox: the burden of legacy isn't always felt in performance halls—it's felt in the quiet of riyaaz, in the hush before the first note, in the impossibly long shadow of two legends. Raga-tuned childhood 'He was born into breath,' Rakesh Chaurasia, says, with a soft chuckle. 'There was not one moment when he chose the flute—it had already chosen him.' Ritik's earliest memories aren't of toys or cartoons—they're of early morning alaaps, of the soft hum of the tanpura coming from a closed room, of his grandfather's eyes closing just before the first note. 'His lullabies weren't nursery rhymes,' says Rakesh. 'They were ragas. The flute was and is omniscient in our household.' No surprise then that music wasn't taught to him—it seeped in, 'like monsoon rain through cracks in an old window'. There was no pressure. Just presence. The bansuri rested on tables, leaned against walls, breathed through the house. And somewhere, Ritik began to breathe with it. His maternal grandfather Harsh Vardhan—a revered flute-maker—once crafted a tiny bansuri for Ritik's five-year-old hands. 'He held it all wrong,' Rakesh laughs. 'But he blew into it. And the sound came. That was all we needed.' Still, Rakesh held back from becoming his teacher too soon. 'You can't rush music. It's like waiting for fruit to ripen.' During school holidays in Delhi, Ritik's first real lessons came from his maternal grandfather. 'He was patient,' Ritik remembers. 'By the time I was in Grade V, I could play Raga Bhoop. I'd play it for relatives like a party trick.' Even then, the burden wasn't far behind. 'Everyone smiled, but they listened with that look,' he recalls. 'The look that said, 'Let's see if he's like his father or grandfather.'' Rakesh remembers hoping Ritik would take to the bansuri, though he never pushed. 'Incidentally, we got a tabla teacher for my younger son Pratik when he showed interest—but the moment lessons began, he lost all desire,' he points out, recalling how he waited. He saw and heard of Ritik playing bhajans and the national anthem at school, but he wasn't sure yet. Until one summer, just after Ritik's Class X exams, the boy simply began asking, 'Papa are you free today? Will you teach me?' 'That's when I knew,' says Rakesh. 'The music wasn't just around him. It had taken root.' The sweet weight of inheritance To inherit is to carry both blessing and burden. Ritik walks that tightrope with grace. 'There's always that quiet comparison,' he says. 'Sometimes it feels like I'm auditioning to be myself.' It's a quiet rebellion—tempered by reverence. 'I don't want to break away. I just want space to breathe,' he says. 'Guruji always said—the flute isn't an instrument. It's a companion. You don't master it. You speak to it. You listen to it.' Legacy, for Ritik, isn't something to mimic. It's something to remember. He could have taken the easy path. Mimicry of a legendary style can earn instant adulation. But Ritik chose restraint. 'He doesn't try to impress,' says Mahesh Babu of Banyan Tree. 'He doesn't play to dazzle. He plays to dwell.' At a Shishya's Collective concert last year, where third-generation musicians gathered, Ritik performed Raga Megh. 'There was a hush in the room,' Babu recalls. 'Not because of what he played—but because of what he didn't. He let the music breathe. That takes courage.' Even when he ventures beyond classical confines—collaborating with jazz pianists, experimenting with spoken word, or composing for short films—he remains rooted in raag-ras. 'You can wear different colours, but you don't forget your skin,' he says. His Instagram snippets—sometimes just two minutes of Raag Yaman—aren't meant to chase likes. 'Maybe someone needs it on a rushed morning,' he shrugs. Pandit Hariprasad Chaurasia, now in his 80s, watches Ritik with quiet pride. 'He has that bhaav,' he says. 'You can teach notes. You can't teach emotion. That has to come from inside.' Then, with a playful glint, he adds, 'I fought to make the flute a concert instrument. Rakesh made it global. Now Ritik must make it eternal.' After a recent dusk recital—Raag Marwa unfurling like twilight—someone whispered, 'He doesn't sound like his grandfather. But he sounds like someone who remembers.' And perhaps that's what makes Ritik's music quietly extraordinary. He doesn't seek to erase what came before. He honours and learns from it. And then -- gently, respectfully—lets it change him.