For generations Sholay is more than just films but emotions. The moment you hear the Sholay–its dialogues echo in your mind, its characters feel like old acquaintances, and its images carry the weight of shared memory, replayed whenever nostalgia calls. Even decades after its release, the film continues to ignite laughter, longing and awe, binding audiences through a collective cinematic experience.
But for some people some movies go beyond the cinematic experience and become a part of their life. For Vikas Singh, it became a lifelong pursuit shaped by memory, research and an almost archival devotion to cinema. Over the years, Singh has built one of India’s most detailed private collections dedicated to a single film, transforming personal passion into an act of cultural preservation.
His extensive collection dedicated to the 1975 classic is the result of years of searching, researching and preserving objects that might otherwise have quietly disappeared. What sets his journey apart is not scale alone, but intent: a belief that cinema, especially in India, deserves to be remembered not just through memory, but through material history.
Talking about his collection to SSZee Media, Vikash Singh shared what it meant for him, said, “Sholay is a culturally significant film that has had a landmark effect on Hindi Cinema. Its grand canvas and visual ambition were unprecedented for their time, and even decades later, it continues to hold the attention of audiences all over the country.”
That enduring relevance, he explains, is precisely why preservation matters. “In India, however, we rarely document or preserve objects of cultural importance, especially when it comes to movies. So, I decided to collect memorabilia and ephemera related to the movie before it got lost to the ravages of time,” said Singh.
At the heart of Vikas Singh’s Sholay collection lies a deep reverence for the creative minds who shaped the film’s visual and sonic identity. His archive does not merely celebrate the actors or iconic scenes; it foregrounds the designers, illustrators, printers and musicians whose work helped turn Sholay into a cultural phenomenon.
The collection spans original 1975 posters designed by C. Mohan alongside unused concept artwork by V. G. Parchure—pieces that reveal the visual imagination behind the film long before audiences encountered it on screen. These sit beside Polydor’s platinum-certified dialogue EPs, which played a crucial role in the film’s early marketing and helped embed its characters and lines into popular culture. Together, the artefacts trace how Sholay was seen, heard and remembered across formats and decades.
Among the most striking pieces are the original lithograph posters printed at Danyansagar Litho Press. C. Mohan, who began his career painting cinema banners at the age of 14, went on to create Sholay’s now-legendary cracked-stone logo. He reportedly developed nearly 14 variations before arriving at the final widescreen-influenced design that became inseparable from the film’s identity. Alongside this is V. G. Parchure’s unused poster concept, a hand-drawn, flame-filled and brimming with cinematic intensity, a rare glimpse into Pamart Studio’s peak artistry. A later-release lithograph, signed by Javed Akhtar, adds a further layer of historical and emotional value to the collection.
What began as a conscious act of preservation soon became something far more personal. “Collecting soon became a deeply personal passion,” Singh reflects. He referred to a line by philosopher Walter Benjamin to explain that pull, said, “Every passion borders on the chaotic, but the collector’s passion borders on the chaos of memories.” For Singh, those memories are tied to both the film and his own childhood. “The first item I brought was Anupama Chopra’s book on Sholay in 2001 which triggered a wave of personal nostalgia reminding me of the old Sholay audio cassette we had bought when we owned a simple two-in-one tape recorder.” That cassette, long forgotten, resurfaced unexpectedly. “I found it buried in an old trunk with other forgotten cassettes, and from that moment, the collecting truly began.”
Print culture forms another vital strand of Singh’s archive. His meticulously preserved lobby card set mirrors the poster campaign, capturing the ensemble cast against coordinated flame-themed visuals. A first-run 1975 film booklet, printed by Filmage, Bombay, includes synopses in Hindi, Urdu and English, along with song lyrics, line drawings and detailed production credits. Perhaps the most fragile and evocative object is an original 1975 theatre ticket from Excelsior Cinema in Old Delhi, which is one of the rarest surviving traces of Sholay’s initial theatrical journey.
Singh’s collection maps the lifecycle of Sholay’s soundtrack, including rare and unused recordings including Polydor EP vinyls and T-Series audio cassettes to later CD releases. A standout inclusion is the 1990 VCD of the 204-minute director’s cut, offering viewers access to a more expansive version of the film beyond its 188-minute theatrical release.
The archive also documents how Sholay entered India’s official memory. Commemorative postal items issued by India Post for the film’s 50th anniversary, marking the moment when a popular film was formally recognised as national cultural heritage.
The collection that followed is remarkable not only for its breadth but for the effort required to assemble it. None of it came easily to Singh. “Collecting and building up a thematic collection is not an easy task in India. Documentation is poor as is the provenance. There are very few good, authentic antique dealers. No societies exist for collectors. So, it becomes akin to searching for a needle in a haystack.”
That difficulty, however, never diminished the excitement for him. “The journey has been long but exciting,” he says, capturing the dual reality of frustration and discovery that defines serious collecting. Each object carries with it not just rarity, but context—evidence of how Sholay was seen, sold, heard and remembered across time.
Singh’s personal connection to the film is inseparable from his understanding of its impact on Indian cinema. “Sholay fundamentally influenced Hindi cinema by establishing the ‘masala’ genre template, elevating the status of screenwriters, creating the iconic villain archetype of Gabbar Singh, and setting new benchmarks for commercial success and technical ambition,” he says. To him, the film’s genius lies in synthesis. “Sholay blended various genres like action, drama, romance, comedy, and musical into a single, cohesive narrative, a format that became the standard for mainstream Indian cinema for decades,” he added.
Singh is also clear-eyed about the film’s influences, noting that “even though the movie has been ‘inspired’ from at least ten other movies, it could successfully blend and bring it all together in a form that has kept audiences hooked for 50 years.” That ability to endure, to remain compelling across generations, is what gives his collecting a deeper meaning. He said, “That I could make my own small contribution in keeping it alive makes it very special for me.”In Singh’s hands, collecting becomes an act of storytelling. Each poster, booklet or vinyl record is not just an artefact, but a reminder of how cinema once lived in homes, theatres and everyday conversations. His Sholay collection stands as proof that films do not survive on celluloid alone—they survive because individuals choose to remember, preserve and pass them on.
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