Poster boy

The latest Rowdy Rathore poster sits comfortably next to Attenborough’s Gandhi. He digs up posters of Raja Harishchandra,Sharabi,Pyar Ki Kahani,Shatranj Ke Khiladi,Sheesh Mahal,and a Raj Kapoor film collage. Then he brings out a photo album of Mughal-e-Azam,another on Mohammed Rafi,hand-painted posters of Kaagaz Ke Phool and an Umrao Jaan tableau. He also has a small Hollywood poster collection in which Hitchcock is the main attraction.

Hauz Khas village is teeming with shops selling such items,one would say. Until two years ago,Shenky was the guy who supplied these shops with posters. A lot of the posters at these shops are reprints and reproductions while Shenky’s loot is largely original. That was when he discovered Daryaganj and its Sunday book bazaar. Now every Sunday,he has a small stall where he hangs two of his posters and waits for customers. Interested customers stop,and they are summarily taken to the hideout where the real loot lies. He also personally delivers the posters to some of his loyal clientele.

While the posters at Hauz Khas will burn a hole in your pocket,Shenky charges Rs 200 to 300 each even for original prints. Nostalgia is a reproduced art,and a thriving business model in the urban village of Hauz Khas.

But for Shenky,nostalgia is neither art nor a successful business. For his father,a factory worker,films were a happy escape. Song on his lips and skip in his step,he collected posters from cinema halls to build a 3,000-strong collection.

This is Shenky’s inheritance to which he has added a lot,combing cinema halls and junkyards. He has also made one trip to Mumbai to source but insists that sourcing is easier and certainly cheaper in Delhi.

Shenky is a curious man. He started as a supervisor in a Kashmiri chappal company,and then opened a photo studio in Maujpur. Four years of persistence didn’t help the studio — “Maujpur main khana nahi milta hai,photo kya khichvaayenge!” he says,admitting his follies. Daryaganj,he says,changed things.

“Chalu log nahi aate hain. Genuine lovers hain cinema ke” is the primary reason why he adores his work. Even his rates are not competitive.

“There are two or three of us in Delhi doing this business,” he says. He has around 30 customers who give him recurring business throughout the year. Shenky is sprightly and always on the move,looking for things he knows will click. It is hard to believe he is a grandfather; his humour belies his age. He named his eldest son ‘Osama’,dropping the ‘O’ after bin Laden’s death! He playfully accuses his wife of coveting his business.

No argument — what next,how long,big sharks in the business — seems to faze Shenky. “Picture toh abhi shuru hui hai,” he says,eyes twinkling.