The eighties were the nadir where Hindi films were concerned. It was the era of bare story-lines (or none at all) padded with mindless action, numerous glycerine bottles, cacophony in the name of music, garish sets, weird costumes, blow-dried hair, heavily-caked makeup, and eyelashes that impaled one at six hundred yards. It was also the era when 'middle cinema' made a comeback; smaller films with actors instead of stars ('stars' signed these films to prove their acting 'creds'), better story lines, and a small bunch of producers-directors who bankrolled these oases of realism amidst the over-the-top excesses of the pure commercial film. Names like Kundan Shah, Shyam Benegal, Saeed and Aziz Mirza, Sai Paranjpye, Aparna Sen, Govind Nihalani, Shekhar Kapur, all made some definitive films during this decade. Amongst them was another name - Mahesh Bhatt. He had made films before, half a dozen of them, none of them very great, all sinking without a trace. Then, he had a brainwave. He wrote a story based on incidents in his own life, added a soupçon of drama, and delivered his first major hit.
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