The ticket sales for the final Harry Potter movie haven’t been affected by the blasts. DNA spoke to moviegoers to find out if their love for Potter trumped their fears.
Outside the ticket counter of a popular city multiplex, the crowd is buzzing. Tempers are getting frayed. I hear a woman shout exasperatedly at her teenage daughter, “Well next time maybe you can get ready on time.”
Tickets for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows-Part II are clearly at a premium. Many turn away disappointed. And as they walk off, shoulders slightly hunched, some wistfully glance at the large backlit posters of the boy wizard that frame the gates of entry.
The blasts, it seems, have not deterred Potter enthusiasts from swamping the theatres. “Harry Potter has clearly taken the best opening for a Hollywood film ever in India, at least at all the Cinemax properties. Even if there had not been a bomb blast, the footfalls wouldn’t have been any better than what they are now, as most shows are house full anyway,” Geerish Wankhede of Cinemax claims triumphantly.
So Mumbaikars, as they are expected to, seem have moved on. I ask Ruchika Medhar, 16, a student at St Peter’s School, whether she felt any trepidation walking into such a crowded environment.
“Well my mom didn’t want me to come but I’m a huge Harry Potter fan, I wouldn’t have come out for any other film. But I had to watch this.” So does that mean she fears for her safety just a little bit?
“Oh yes I really don’t feel all that safe,” she says, glancing looks at her friend. He smiles wanly, “The security system isn’t all that good. I mean there’s only security at the gate.”
Many are quite nonchalant about any sort of impending threat. Shruti Kedia, 23, an executive with SBI, takes a rather philosophical approach to the whole thing.
“I’m not really scared. If it has to happen it will happen. I’m from Bangalore, so when the blast first happened I got a little perturbed. I went home early. But now everyone’s moving on, so shall I.”
As I finish talking to Shruti, I see a group of four walk towards the theatre in a hurry. Two ladies pulled along by two boys, no older than twelve. As I approach them, one of the ladies introduces herself as Parijat Gupta, 40. When I ask her what she does, she flicks her thumb out at the boys and says “I take care of them.”
So did she feel any sort of hesitation in bringing her boys out, to a crowded place so soon after a blast? “I did, but we’re trying to be brave. We won’t let the fear get into our kids.” So is it Harry Potter that trumped her initial hesitation? “Not really, this is what the kids wanted to watch, I would’ve taken them out anywhere.”
As I turn to leave I notice a security guard smirking at me. I ask him why. He says, “Why are you asking these people, ask the poor people at Zaveri Bazaar how they feel?” What the guard doesn’t know is that I have. And what I’ve found is that the divisions of Mumbaikars along the fault lines of class, economic status and perception, in this matter, are bridged by a common refrain. “I just want to move on.”
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