By Karan Thapar

I can’t claim to know Sanjay Dutt well but what I do know of him I both like and respect. He’s an open book. A man without guile. Simple, child-like, gentle and unaffected. And he has no qualms talking about his faults or failings. There are very few people I know who can be so remorselessly honest about themselves.

The first time we met was in 1991. It was the last year before the advent of satellite television. In those days independent news was produced on video cassettes. You borrowed them from your local library! Even if a month old they were still considered innovative and fresh. The one I produced was called Eyewitness.

It was a small article in a newspaper that prompted me to contact Sanjay. He had just spoken at Calcutta University about his drug addiction and I felt certain the subject would make a great interview. So I traced him to the Grand Hotel and got through sometime after midnight. To my delight Sanjay accepted and a fortnight later flew to Delhi for the recording.

I was astonished by his candour. The story he told us may not have been profound but it was frighteningly honest. He did not omit embarrassing details nor speak in euphemisms. Ultimately we asked how he had weaned himself off. If I recall correctly, this is what he said :

“There was a night when I came home, shut the door and passed out. I slept for two days. Our old family servant couldn’t even wake me up. Eventually when I woke up I found him outside my door in tears. He thought I had died. But the worst part was I couldn’t remember a thing. That’s when I decided this had gone on for too long.”

Would I, I asked myself, be able to speak of my own lapses so openly and unhesitatingly? Or would I embroider and abridge, slide past the truly awful moments whilst blowing up the little achievements on the way? I don’t think I can face my mistakes with the same strength and courage.

The next interview was nine years later and this time for the BBC. By now Sanjay had done sixteen months inside and though on bail needed permission to leave Bombay. He arrived at our studio at Jamia Millia Islamia straight off the plane. I remember it as a particularly cold December evening.

“Can I have a quick wash?”, Sanjay asked as he walked in. It was a normal request except the bathroom at Jamia had no lights, the floor was flooded and there was no soap. There was also no hot water.

I started to apologise but Sanjay simply laughed. “Don’t worry” he said. “Don’t forget I’ve been in jail. In comparison this is like a five star hotel.”

“Hang on, Sanjay.” Vishakh Rathi, our Director, had suddenly thought of a solution. “I have a strip of paper soap.” And opening his wallet, Vishakh produced a crumpled package bought during a railway journey several months early.

“This is just what I need” Sanjay claimed. And then, in the dark of a cold Jamia bathroom, he took off his jacket, unbuttoned his shirt and washed his hands and face.

No one present on the occasion is likely to forget this incident and the reason is simple. Because no one other than Sanjay – and I definitely mean no other actor – would have accepted the situation, made light of the problem and uncomplainingly made do with the rudimentary washroom facilities we offered him. If I had been in his place I would probably have walked out!

Last month I interviewed Sanjay once again. It was three weeks before his verdict. I wanted to talk about how he was preparing himself for the big day but I wasn’t sure he would agree. In his position I would have refused. It would have felt intrusive and I wouldn’t have wanted to expose my vulnerability. But Sanjay agreed.

Right at the end I asked how he would react if he was acquitted. “I don’t know”, he replied. “May be I’ll cry.”

“And God forbid the verdict should go against you?”

He paused. A shadow seemed to cross his face. At the time I thought it was anguish or pain.

“I’ll face it”, he said softly. “I have to.”

I believe him. As he prepares for the months, perhaps years, that lie ahead he has the strength to see him through. Whatever his faults, he’s a fine person.