In Film City's ephemeral world of makeshift sets, Amitabh Bachchan is a reassuringly real presence. Leaner than he's ever been, he is clad in a Tacchini track suit with leather slip-ons that look as if they have seen a lot of living. His costume for a scene hangs neatly by the side of a small TV set, as an odd collection of DVDs (The Road to Perdition, 9 1/2 Weeks and Another 9 1/2 Weeks) sits on a table by the side of a laptop. For someone who's "terrible at self-analysis", Bachchan is not doing too badly. Excerpts from an interview with Senior Editor Kaveree Bamzai.

Q. How does Khakee relate to contemporary events?
A. When Rajkumar Santoshi first narrated the gist to me, I found it extremely powerful from the point of view of what is happening in contemporary India. But more importantly, there aren't many roles written for people my age. I felt very honoured that somebody would want to construct an entire plot around a senior citizen in today's times when people want to see younger actors like Hrithik Roshan and Shah Rukh Khan. It's very risky. The one thing I insisted on from day one was that if I was going to play my age then I had to behave my age too. I don't want to be doing superhuman stuff. I don't want to be Superman or Spiderman. I must have my assets but I must also have liabilities that normal people my age have. If I was going to be running after somebody I would be getting exhausted, especially if I was suffering from asthma. There was no deliberate attempt to make me look beautiful as in, say, Baghban. Really, Khakee is a terrific statement of what is one of our issues in contemporary society but it really is the story of a man who is past his prime, whom perhaps the department hasn't been entirely fair to. It is a constant battle for me too. I am also actually fighting to get a job because roles are not easy to come by at this age.

Q. That's not true. Half the industry wants to work with you.
A. Quickly, give me their addresses.

Q. Seriously, I believe you're working as much as you did in the 1970s?
A. Actually, a little more. There are films, endorsements, television. The family's upset with me. They say, 'You are killing yourself. You don't have time.' But what to do? Honestly, I feel if I don't work with every producer who comes to me, I may never get a chance again, so I quickly accept. The other factor is I have problems saying no to anybody. Also by and large my roles are that of a character actor, so within 20-25 days the work is over and you have the opportunity to take on fresh stuff.

Q. How has the Mumbai film industry changed since the '70s?
A. There is a huge difference in technology and in the mindset of the younger generation. Things in the '70s were more laid-back, perhaps a little more concentrated on content that I now find slightly missing. But when I work with the youngsters, I seem to understand their philosophy. They don't think there is time to sit and discuss and meditate. They say what they have to say, do what they have to do and move on. Today when a Karan Johar comes to narrate a script, he will also tell me about his publicity design and the release date. We never thought of these things. I suppose the blame, if any, should be on television because it has a huge speed that has washed away our minds. If you were to count the editing cuts in Khakee and the ones in Zanjeer, you would find so many more now.

Q. How do you keep connected to this mindset? Or do you have your son Abhishek (Bachchan) to thank for it?
A. Much before he was born, I had decided if I ever had a son, he would be my friend. I have always treated him like that. To his credit I must say that he treats me like a buddy but he always gives me the respect that should be there for a father. At the same time, we talk about movies, girls, send each other dirty jokes. It's cliched to say it's very healthy, but it is. I like to go out with him when he goes to nightclubs. Sometimes he doesn't call me for obvious reasons. But on occasions when Jaya is out of town, we have a boy's night out.

Q. Are you more relaxed now?
A. Being relaxed is relative. Some of the events in my life have made me, in some manner, perhaps resistant to tragedy. I know that good things don't last, the next adversity is round the corner. Earlier, it would hit me like a rock. It could still hit me and I could still be down on my knees. But I feel that maybe-and I say this with a lot of apprehension-I'll be able to take it better.

Q. What continues to drive you?
A. There are certain commitments and certain liabilities I have incurred.

Q. But haven't you repaid them?
A. Yes, 99 per cent. But ... gosh, I don't know whether this is right or not. I feel I should prepare myself for any damage that may be coming. I don't want to be in an inadequate situation. When you reach my age, you are thinking of your will, what will happen after your death. Were it to happen, I hope the people I leave behind are equipped, at least practically if not emotionally, to handle the situation. Maybe there was a little bit of indiscretion when I took five years off, between 1992 and 1997. I allowed a lot of water to flow under the bridge. Suddenly, when I wanted to get back, the whole world had changed. I would not like that to happen again.

Q. Why did you take that decision to quit then?
A. I don't know what it was. I just felt that I should do things I had not done before. Travel, not have the compulsion of getting up at 6 in the morning, go to the studio, be under somebody's command all day. I'd just pack a little suitcase and go off to some place. For a large part of my professional life, I was guided by others, by producers, directors, managers, who felt this is what I should be doing and I diligently obeyed them like a schoolboy. But in the past four-five years, various circumstances have forced me to take my own decisions and I'm extremely happy.

Q. How does the continuing adulation affect you?
A. People have been coming up to me especially for Baghban and Khakee and saying it touched their lives. Sometimes I'm surprised at the detailed manner they are able to recall some moments in the films. You feel nice but you also feel wary. You know that people are watching. You have to constantly discipline yourself. But when you have had a colossus as a father, how can you ever dream of thinking you are somebody?