One night in an Insta doomscrolling sesh IJBOL upon seeing a still of Rekha from Bahurani (1990) with the text “I am awake... please respect my privacy during this difficult time” printed over it. Relate! In the same carousel was “You’re so fit. Do you lift?” featuring Pran and Mumtaz in an old still from Roop Tera Mastana (1972). The answer: “Only the unbearable weight of existence.” It cracked me up, partly because of Pran’s pervy expression and Mumtaz’s snazzy red ensemble, but especially because of the image’s zero connection to the context.
I haven’t seen these films in my millennial lifetime, but memes I get. Especially the ones that feed my existential nihilism. Dark. Humorous. Satirical. Diabolical. With a tinge of nostalgia.
Like me, many chronically online souls lapped up Varkey’s Renaissance-painting memes during the Covid-19 lockdown, which continue to be delighted with the digital artist's hilarious memes about modern life that use classical paintings as its backdrop. If you, too, inhale such a brand of online humour, you would have come across, shared, and hollered at one of Bahaish Kapoor’s classic compilations (@bahaishkapoor) that have been doing the rounds online since mid-July.
The premise is simple. In his work, relatable work problems, relationship banter, dad jokes and language humour, along with witty quips pegged to our contemporary times, are recontextualised using retro Hindi film imagery featuring thespians and legendary actors. There is a still of a chirpy Deepti Naval from Katha (1982) with the text “Sometimes, I read a text and think, what a psycho... Then I press send” on it. Another still of yesteryear actor Mala Sinha cradled in Abhi Bhattacharya’s arms from Apradhi Kaun? (1957) reads: “It’s a sign from the universe,” as pat comes the response, “No babe, those are targeted ads.” Another image of Jaya Bhaduri Bachchan looking at Amitabh Bachchan, who’s staring into a telescope says: “What are you looking for?... The person who asked for your opinion.”
Of course, the “Utho Anarkali” still from Mughal-e-Azam that became meme fodder around 2018-2020 is probably the OG retro Bollywood meme that tracks. Kapoor, 38, as the son of Indian actor, author, and acting teacher Kishore Namit Kapoor, has been steeped in this cinematic universe all his life and could relate to it.
The filmmaker and media trainer who’s also a writer on Modern Love: Hyderabad and Baggage, among others, has been moonlighting as a meme creator in a very specific genre. The self-proclaimed “meme connoisseur” is putting jokes and his access to superior scans of old Bollywood film imagery to good use. We’re talking stills, non-digitised posters, and original prints.
“We have a whole library of film books, and we’ve got scans,” says Kapoor, adding that a lot of photographers themselves had sent these to his father’s repository at their acting institute (Kishore Namit Kapoor Acting Institute). “Plus, we have a friend who has a personal museum with non-digitised original prints that were used for posters and promotional stills, which I have used.”
He has made over 20 carousel compilations (all captioned in Roman numerals) featuring Dilip Kumar, Rajesh Khanna, Balraj Sahni, Guru Dutt, Ashok Kumar, Rekha, Shakti Kapoor, Sridevi, Jeetendra, Anil Kapoor, and other public figures delivering poker-faced, share-worthy quips. On IG, comments urging him to “print it on T-shirts”, and followers demanding a dose of his witticism (“You have no idea that these do for my mental health”) keep him going.
His memes transcend age groups and borders. After India, the region that consumes most of his material is the United States (Just last week, he dropped a no context Hollywood edit of his signature memes). Among his growing fanbase of 318k followers on IG are actors like Patricia Arquette, Sharon Stone, Keegan-Michael Key, Ishaan Khatter, and Hrithik Roshan who like, share and repost his content.
The memes romanticise a different era in Hindi cinema, and, by extension, are introducing a whole new generation to it. After all, few of us would be familiar with the filmography of Manoj Kumar, the brooding star of films like Hariyali aur Rasta (1962) and Woh Kaun Thi? (1964), but a still of him mid-handshake and “not knowing when to quit”? That’s so 2026.
