The stories…narrated by Usmanbhai,the cinema projector repairer. Usmanbhai and his father Kaderbhai, both projector repairers, lived in one of the most crowded streets of old Delhi. The generation that repaired early projectors like Pathe and Bell and Howells to modern ones started diminishing by Usmanbhai’s times. His work dwindled with the introduction of most modern projectors that needed little maintenance or repair. Like the old projectors, his life also remained stuck in the mute net of forgetting. Usmanbhai’s shop was close to Jama Masjid.It disappeared when old delhi also started to be spruced up.
The disappearance was like a key lost in Jama Masjid and its surroundings, like an ancient museum.Rickshaws, wrestlers, ear cleaners and prostitutes wondered about on that lost key.

Before that,Usmanbhai ran his shop in a tent opposite the Redfort. He is not busy any more.Gone are the busy days… the days of early sound cinema,and the days of Ashok Kumar, Raj Kapoor,and Nargis.
The new projectors do not breakdown as fast.Even if they did,no one comes looking for Usmanbhai. Raj Kapoor and Nargis remain as frozen frames in his head. A projector is like the human body.If it breaks down,nothing will appear. The reels rotate as thoughts in a human brain… from it,the lights… movements … like life
Father Kaderbhai used to narrate stories about silent cinema. Will the people, once disappeared from the life, return? Like the silent Cinema, Kaderbhai too disappeared into darkness of forgetting