If Sholay was remade, who’d be Jai-Veeru: Sherlock Holmes investigates
The year is 2025, and rain pelts the windows of 221B Baker Street. Sherlock Holmes lounges in his armchair, his violin resting idly on his knee, while Dr John Watson sits by the fire, engrossed in a stack of newspapers. The papers are abuzz with celebrations of Sholay’s 50th anniversary, the 1975 Bollywood epic of two outlaws, Jai and Veeru, hired to fight the bandit Gabbar, which has captivated generations. Watson, a huge Sholay fan, sets aside The Times and tosses a question: “Holmes, should Sholay be remade?”
Holmes, his eyes glinting with intellectual mischief, sets his violin aside. “A curious proposition, Watson. Let us dissect it with precision.”
Their housekeeper, Mrs Hudson, bustles in with a tray of tea, her usual disapproval of the messy room softened by its cozy warmth. “Ah, this is what I call perfect timing—just like Gabbar’s entry,” Holmes smiles at Mrs Hudson. “Should Sholay, a cinematic artifact of near-mythic status, be remade?”
Mrs Hudson, pausing with a teapot in hand, huffs. “Why meddle with perfection? It’s like rewriting Conan Doyle’s stories—some things are sacred.”
Watson chuckles, folding the newspaper. “But the world’s changed, Mrs Hudson. A new Sholay could speak to today’s audience, with modern flair. Imagine the action, the music, reimagined!”
“Remakes, bah! Ram Gopal Varma’s 2007 remake, Aag, as cold as a London winter,” Mrs Hudson sips her tea.
Holmes taps the table with the rhythmic thump of Mehbooba, Mehbooba, his mind slicing through the problem. “Let us weigh the points and counterpoints with rigour. Watson, begin.”
Should Sholay Be Remade?
“There’s a good case for Sholay 2.0. Its themes of friendship, vengeance, and justice are timeless. A remake could weave in contemporary issues, making it resonate with 2025’s global audience,” Holmes, now tapping Yeh Dosti on the table, says.
“Yes, imagine Sholay crafted with modern filmmaking techniques—superior visuals, CGI, and sound design. The iconic train robbery or Gabbar’s den could be rendered with breathtaking realism, enhancing the spectacle,” Watson’s words carry his excitement.
Holmes continues, “A remake could showcase today’s actors, directors, and musicians, breathing fresh life into the story while honouring its roots. With streaming platforms, Sholay 2.0 could reach a worldwide audience, introducing the saga to those unfamiliar with the original. Right, Mrs Hudson?”
“It will be a cultural sacrilege,” Mrs Hudson thunders. “Its dialogues and characters are etched into India’s collective memory. A remake risks diluting its legacy or alienating purists.”
“Mrs Hudson has a point,” says Holmes. “The original’s perfection sets an almost impossible bar. The 1975 film’s charm lies in its era-specific grit and simplicity. Modern gloss might strip away the raw emotional pull of the original.”
Watson’s brow creases. “A remake could succeed if it respects the original’s spirit while innovating boldly. Fear of failure is not in the Sholay spirit—a coward is a dead man, Gabbar said.”
Holmes chuckles: “Why not toss Jai’s coin—heads it should be remade, tails it shouldn’t.”
The Quest for New Icons
“Holmes, I favour a remake. Whom would you cast in this hypothetical Sholay 2.0,” Watson asks.
Mrs Hudson coughs. Watson rubs his chin. “A challenge, Watson, but I’ll take it on. Let’s reimagine the cast, music, and direction for a modern Sholay.” Holmes, his violin silent, leans against the mantle, his sharp eyes lost in thought.
“We shall re-examine each character, weighing all possibilities with the precision of a jeweller’s scale. Where shall we begin?”
“The music director. Who could possibly match the genius of RD Burman?”
“Music composition in Bollywood films is a fading art,” Holmes plays a note on his violin. “I will go with AR Rahman, can’t imagine anyone else creating iconic tunes and background score.”
“Big fan of Lagaan and London Dreams,” Mrs Hudson chimes in. “I agree.”
“Yes. Unfortunately, he is well past his prime. But even then, he’s the only choice, considering how Bollywood just belts out Bhangra and technopop,” Watson says ruefully.
“So, it is settled without a debate. Rahman it is,” says Mrs Hudson. “I have a wish, though,” she smiles mischievously. “I want Tamannaah Bhatia to reprise Helen’s iconic moves—Mehbooba, Mehbooba,” she sings in a heavy Yorkshire accent, making Watson roll his eyes.
“That girl’s got some proper spark,” Mrs Hudson continues, sticking her tongue out at Watson.
Veeru – The Roguish Charmer
The fire crackles at 221B Baker Street as Watson leans forward. “Holmes, let’s dive into the heart of Sholay 2.0—casting Jai and Veeru. These two are the soul of the story, the unbreakable bond of friendship. We need actors who can capture their chemistry, their grit, and their charm. Let’s start with Veeru, the brash, lovable rogue. Who’d you pick for him in 2025?”
Holmes, swirling his tea, narrows his eyes. “Watson, Veeru requires charisma, physicality, and a roguish twinkle—a man who can woo Basanti, pull off drunken drama, and brawl with bandits. Let us proceed logically. I’ll propose options, and you may interrogate their merits.”
“Right, Holmes, let’s cast Veeru—our brash, Basanti-chasing, bandit-bashing hero. I have four contenders: Ranveer Singh, Vicky Kaushal, Ranbir Kapoor, and Allu Arjun. Lay it out, you old sleuth. Who’s got the fire?”
“Patience, Watson, this requires careful deduction.”
Mrs Hudson shifts restlessly. “Oh, do get on with it, Mr Holmes. My tea’s getting cold, and I’ve got opinions too!”
1. Ranveer Singh
“Ranveer’s a human firecracker—Bajirao Mastani, Padmaavat, Simmba, Ram-Leela, pure dynamite. He’d swagger into Veeru’s boots with a wink and a roar, tossing quips like grenades. The man could make the water-tank scene a circus—picture him slurring, ‘I will jump if Basanti doesn’t say yes.’”
Watson chuckles: “Ha! He’d own that drunken rant, but isn’t he a bit too loud? Veeru’s a village lad, not a Bollywood peacock. Could Ranveer tone it down?”
“A fair question, Watson. His flamboyance might paint Veeru as a rockstar, not a rogue. He’d need to ditch the designer stubble for some rustic dust. Still, his chemistry with Jai and Basanti would be electric—loyal as a hound, flirty as a fox.”
“Too flashy, if you ask me. Veeru’s got heart, not just sparkle. Next!” Mrs Hudson swipes her hand, rejecting Ranveer from some imaginary dating app.
2. Vicky Kaushal
“Vicky’s the dark horse—Uri, Sardar Udham, Raman Raghav. He’s got grit in spades, the kind of quiet steel that makes Jai-Veeru a deadly combo. He’d play the romance with Basanti soft, soulful, like in Masaan. But the water-tank bit? He might need a pint or two to loosen up.”
“I like Vicky’s raw edge. He’s Veeru when he’s tossing punches or hugging Jai. But you’re right, Holmes, he’s a bit serious. Can he pull off that sloppy, hilarious drunk scene?”
Holmes: “A challenge, but not impossible. He’d need to channel some hidden josh. Also, Vicky’s got that grounded vibe.”
Mrs Hudson’s eyes twinkle. “Oh, he’s a lovely lad, but too broody! Veeru’s got to make me laugh, not just swoon.”
3. Ranbir Kapoor
“Ranbir’s the chameleon—Barfi!, Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani, Sanju, Animal. He’s got the charm to woo Basanti and the depth to make Veeru’s bond with Jai hit like a gut punch. The water-tank scene? He’d play it cheeky, not manic—think sly grins, not shouting matches. And he’d slay the bandits like an Animal—a tiger, if you will.”
Watson’s face lights up. “Ranbir’s got a boyish spark, but Veeru’s more Sunny than Bobby, if you know what I mean. We need someone who’s garam like Dharmendra. Can Ranbir ditch the urban polish for some Ramgarh grit?”
Holmes: “He’d weave humour, heart, and heroics seamlessly. Box-office gold, too, for your 2025 crowd. Mrs Hudson?”
“Now that’s more like it. Ranbir’s got the eyes for Veeru—mischief and loyalty in one glance. More choices, please.”
4. Allu Arjun
“Your wild card, Allu Arjun, the Pushpa phenom. He’s got swagger to burn, a rough-hewn charm that screams village rogue. His action chops are undeniable—those bandit fights would be a spectacle. And that water-tank scene? He’d dance through it, half-drunk, half-genius.”
“Oh, I can see it! Allu’s got that raw, magnetic pull—Veeru’s got to own the screen, and Pushpa showed he can. But he’s a South Indian star. Would Bollywood purists cry foul?”
“A valid concern, you nostalgic nitwit. Allu’s pan-Indian appeal—thanks to Pushpa’s global splash—could bridge that gap. His rustic edge trumps Ranveer’s polish and matches Vicky’s grit. But his accent might need tweaking for Ramgarh’s North Indian vibe.”
Mrs Hudson bubbles with excitement: “That boy’s got fire in his belly. He’d make Veeru a proper scoundrel—my favourite yet!”
Jai – The Tragic Hero
“Alright, Holmes, Jai’s the thinker—cool-headed, tragic, with that harmonica-haunted vibe. Three choices, Prabhas, Ranbir and Kartik Aaryan. Who nails it?”
“Jai’s the foil to Veeru’s fire—stoic yet soulful, lethal yet loyal. He needs depth, not flash, and a spark with Veeru to sell their bond. Let’s dissect your contenders with a scalpel’s precision.”
“I’ve got a soft spot for that Jai chap—such a sad, sweet boy,” Mrs Hudson fights back tears.
1. Prabhas
“Prabhas, the Baahubali titan, brings a mythic weight. His stoic gravitas in Baahubali 2 and Salaar screams Jai—quiet, commanding, with eyes that carry a storm. He’d play the harmonica like it’s a battle hymn, and his action scenes would shake Ramgarh’s dust. Pair him with a fiery Veeru, and their brotherhood would feel like granite.”
“Prabhas is a mountain! That brooding intensity fits Jai’s tragic streak. But isn’t he too larger-than-life? Jai’s a small-time crook, not a king. Can he dial it down for those quiet moments?”
“A sharp observation, Watson. Prabhas risks overshadowing Jai’s everyman roots—his epic aura might feel too regal for a dusty bandit. But his understated pain in Saaho shows he can go soft. The challenge? His South Indian stardom might jar with Sholay’s North Indian grit, unless the remake leans pan-Indian.”
“He’s a proper hero, that Prabhas—tall as a chimney, towering as Bachchan. But Jai’s got to feel like he could break. I’m not sure he’s got that softness,” Mrs. Hudson says, noncommittal.
2: Ranbir Kapoor
“Ranbir’s got Jai’s soul in his pocket: introspective, wounded, with a boyish charm that masks a steel core. He’d play Jai’s harmonica scenes like a poet, and his chemistry with Veeru—especially a high-energy type like Ranveer or Allu—would crackle like this fire. The coin-toss? He’d make it destiny.”
“You’re waxing lyrical, Holmes! Ranbir’s got that haunted look—perfect for Jai’s quiet pain. But if he’s Jai, we can’t have him as Veeru too, can we?”
“You two boys, let me make it clear to you. I want Ranbir in Sholay 2.0. If not Veeru, then Jai. Those eyes—pure heartbreak. He’d make me cry when hewell, you know. No spoilers!”
3. Kartik Aaryan
“Kartik’s the everyman—Pyaar Ka Punchnama, Luka Chuppi, Bhool Bhulaiyaa 2. He’s got a quiet charm that could ground Jai’s tragedy, with a sly wit for those coin-toss moments. His chemistry with a high-energy Veeru would balance the dynamic—think subtle heartbreak, not loud heroics.”
“You’re onto something, Holmes! Kartik’s got that relatable vibe—Jai’s a crook with a heart, and Kartik could nail that. But can he handle the action and the harmonica’s soulful weight?”
Holmes nods. “He’d need to stretch for the action.”
“I want someone who’d make me cry whenwell, you know. No spoilers! Kartik’s got the charm, but I’m not sold yet,” Mrs Hudson demurs.
The rain falls harder, a chill enters the room. Watson rises from his chair, pushing tobacco into his pipe. “Dinner? Then we’ll move to Basanti, Radha, Gabbar, and beyond.”
“Can’t wait. But got to eat, too. Nostalgia doesn’t silence a growling stomach,” Mrs Hudson rises gingerly. “Gobble up your dinner fast, lads, I’ll be back. And save your energy for Gabbar.”
Next: The search for Basanti, Gabbar, and Thakur
