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I was standing at the bar of a famous night spot in Mumbai sipping at Mango Vodkatini watching the young and old, bold and the beautiful, the rich and the famous.

So are you back in India? said a suave looking man with greying hair.

I recognised him like I recognise most of the rich and famous in Mumbai. I knew all these guys when they weren’t so rich and famous back in the late eighties and the early nineties, when they all drank Old Monk in ‘quarter’ bars like Casbah and Janta. They all swore by the Che and the revolution and had smoked at my Alvares house loft.

‘No!’ I said. ‘I am here for some time. I come and go.’

‘Working on a film?’ He queried.

‘Yup!’ I said. ‘Working on a film.’

‘What’s it about?’

I said ‘Well, It’s about… ‘

He quipped in ‘Which film …