From reel to ruins: Samrat Cinema, Naraina theatre join Delhi’s lost screens

The demolition work at Samrat Cinema has already begun and the area has been covered with tarpaulin sheets

Long before streaming shrank cinema to a palm and multiplexes turned an outing into logistics, Delhi’s single screens were the city’s truest theatres of life. They were noisy, imperfect, unforgettable—queues curled around corners, the air smelled of popcorn and samosas, and strangers became co-conspirators in the dark, cheering on with whistles heroes and hissing at villains. To watch a film once was never enough; these halls were less about projection than participation, about aspiration flickering in 35mm.

Construction site of Samrat Cinema Hall in Shakurpur on Saturday. (Vipin Kumar/HT Photo)

Adding to the long list of lost landmarks of Delhi, two more single-screen theatres—Samrat Cinema in Shakurpur and the Naraina Cinema Hall—are set to disappear, cleared for demolition and redevelopment into commercial complexes.

Both theatres had shut years ago but continued to stand as ghostly reminders of a different era. Now, the Delhi Urban Arts Commission (DUAC) has approved plans for their reconstruction. At Samrat, demolition has already begun; tarpaulin sheets cover the site as bulldozers chip away at what was once a neighbourhood hub.

According to DUAC, the redevelopment proposal for Samrat Cinema was first submitted in 2017 and later revised. The approved plan includes two basements, a ground floor and six upper floors, with provisions for double-stack parking and suggestions for installing solar panels to reduce heat load and improve aesthetics.

For Naraina, the proposal was submitted recently and involves replacing the old hall with a two-basement, ground-plus-two-floor structure at the community centre. Here too, DUAC has stressed the need for adequate parking and solar integration. The cinema, part of the Naraina Industrial Estate, stands barely a kilometre from the popular PVR Naraina.

Samrat Cinema, in particular, holds a special place in the city’s cultural memory. Opened in 1979 with Amitabh Bachchan’s “Suhaag”, it ran successfully for nearly four decades before shutting down in 2017 in the aftermath of demonetisation. By then, multiplexes had already eclipsed single screens across Delhi, but Samrat remained a draw for northwest Delhi residents and moviegoers from adjoining Haryana.

For many, its closure feels personal. Ashok Bhasin, president of the North Delhi Residents Welfare Association federation, recalled the theatre’s unique appeal. “Samrat was a personal favourite as it was very close to my wife’s house. We frequently went there as college students. There were days when we targeted watching all three shows of the day. During my student politics days as NSUI general secretary, we also started a campaign for tax rebate for students. While visiting theatres as part of the campaign, we took the opportunity to watch several movies,” he said. He added that the cinema was known for its fruit chaat, comfortable seats, and a certain VIP treatment.

Others remember it as part of their family rituals. Vikram Bhalla, a Subhash Nagar resident, said Samrat was among several beloved theatres in the city, alongside Novelty, Jubilee, Filmistan, and Ajanta.

“Samrat being the closest to my house, we went there almost weekly, almost like a blessed ritual. Those were days when my family waited for every new blockbuster. Nearly every weekend the kids and my wife would insist on watching a movie at Samrat. We rented movies also, but the theatre visit was special—it was our family outing. Now we all have movies on our phones, so it’s not surprising that these bustling spaces are dying,” he said.

While clearing the proposal, the DUAC noted that the design should include double-stack parking to meet requirements, with the onus on the architect and developer to ensure that it is properly implemented on site. The commission also suggested installing solar panels on a well-integrated structural frame, so that the space beneath can be effectively used, kept cool through shading, and maintained with ease—all while improving the aesthetics of the building.

But for those who grew up in their glow, no redesign can replace what these theatres once meant. Each brick carried echoes of whistles and applause, of families who queued together, of youth who cut classes for a matinee. With Samrat and Naraina now joining the list of vanishing halls, Delhi loses not just two cinemas, but two more chapters of its collective diary—faded, but impossible to forget.