Amitabh Bachchan woh hai jo jahaan pe khade ho jaate hein, line wahi se shuru hoti hai. When I was just five years old, my late aunt came over with a video cassette of an Indian film called Mard. Being my aunt’s favourite niece, I clung to her the entire time. I sat on her lap, watched the movie with her and I was fascinated by the tall, dark, ‘superhero’ with that husky magical voice and intense eyes. The hero’s name was Amitabh Bachchan. And from then began a lifelong obsession. My dad would drive an hour to the video store every night after he finished his clinic to rent me a Hindi movie, and my mom would then sit in front of the two-deck video player to make me copies. They watched me sit in front of the TV screen for hours and hours, completely glued to the mesmerising charm of my superhero. I cheered him on when he fought the villain, danced and swayed around when he sang to the gorgeous woman in the colorful lehenga, and cried when he lost his mother or when he was separated from his lover. Most kids my age were watching cartoons; my fix was (and still is) Bollywood. I would wait for Eid impatiently just because I knew an Amitabh Bachchan film would be screened on the second day. I had a complete monopoly over the TV and the entire family was obligated to sit and watch Ganga as he wrestled the evil thakur and reclaimed his father’s ancestral home; or when as Jai cheats his friend Veeru in a coin toss so that he dies instead of him, over and over again. By age 11, I was enrolled in the Indian cultural centre to learn Hindi over the summer. And there I learned that there were many star-struck fans like me who did not think Bollywood movies were silly or stupid. It was at the centre where I first laid my eyes on a copy of Filmfare magazine and exchanged Amitabh posters and badges with my classmates. The course, like summer, ended too fast but then something amazing happened in our house: satellite TV. It was like Pandora’s box was just opened before my eyes. I was like a kid in a candy store. I got all the Hindi channels: SonyTV, SetMax, MTV India, etc, but none of them screened movies with subtitles. I still watched and listened, repeated words in pure Amitji style and mimicked his dance moves. My mom, God bless her soul, became ever conscious of my obsession, and when she found out that Amitabh Bachchan was visiting Cairo to be presented with the Star of the Century Award, she left no stone unturned to make sure we get front row tickets to the show. There I was, in a brand new outfit, rocking a new haircut and holding a huge bouquet of flowers as I lined up to shake the hand of my superhero. He took the bouquet, shook my hand, kissed me on the cheek, and I fainted. I will never forget that day. Since then, I was regularly found on Bollywood chat rooms on the internet. My sister, who got married and moved to Dubai was forced to send me bags filled with the latest releases and I continued watching without subtitles, listening to all Amitjis songs on, repeat, on my yellow, waterproof Sony walkman, and living completely immersed in my very own Bollywood bubble. And now, my online radio only streams City 101.6 FM (a popular Bollywood channel in Dubai), and the only time I make a trip to the movie theatre would be to watch Bollywood’s latest release. Yes, I am an Egyptian who completely believes in the richness, magic and diversity of Indian films and music. Today (October 11) is Amitabh Bachchan’s 70th birthday, and this is just a glimpse of how his movies have changed my life, and how ‘everything India’ became an integral part of who I am. I would have never dreamed of speaking Hindi or Urdu (yes, I learned mainly by watching movies), learning about the history, people, languages and literature of India and Pakistan, the poetry of Harivansh Rai Bachchan, Gulzar, and Javed Akhtar; the stories by Tagore, the books of Premchand, Bankim Chandra Chatterjee and Jiddu Krishnamurti; and the music of Kishore Kumar, Mohamad Rafi, Manna Dey and many other legends. I would never have known that emotions could be projected on screen so beautifully as they are in Yash Chopra movies, or so intensely as they are in Vishal Bhardwaj movies. I would have probably never developed any interest in Mughal history, Hindu mythology, the caste system and the accounts of the bloody partition. It was the movies that opened doors to all of that and more. If it was not for that husky voice, intense eyes, and tremendous talent, I would be completely oblivious to the world of magic that is Indian cinema. Thank you, Amitji. Thank you for Amit, Shankar, Ganga, Vijay, Guru, Narayan Shankar and all the other amazing roles you have portrayed. Thank you for spreading the magic and establishing a standard for global stardom. Happy birthday, from an Egyptian obsessed with Indian cinema. The writer is a Middle East observer and community engagement specialist, with focus on South Asia and Cuba. She can be reached at @DaliaEzzat_ on Twitter