Published on Passion For Cinema. It was 1985. Indira Gandhi had been assassinated about a year. I was consistently in a state of depression. No not because of the tragic demise of Mrs. Gandhi, but because of some kind of chemical locha in my head. Unfortunately Munnabhai had not yet come alive. He would 20 years later. That year, Sanjay Dutt had just returned from the US (I think) after his long haitus, getting himself treated in the US of A to get rid of his drug problem.
Producers were a little apprehensive, as Dutt sat at home twiddling his thumbs waiting for a project. And while he did that, I ...
