In the early 2000s, Amitabh Bachchan’s towering legacy in Indian cinema faced an unprecedented threat: near-total financial collapse. His company, ABCL, had amassed debts exceeding ₹90 crore, lawsuits piled up, and bankruptcy seemed inevitable. The actor, once the nation’s undisputed box office king, was now grappling with the humbling reality of insolvency. It was in this bleak landscape that an unlikely figure emerged—a producer who, week after week, stood patiently outside Bachchan’s Mumbai residence on Sundays, clutching a script he believed could change everything.
This producer, Manoj Goyal, was no industry heavyweight. He operated on the fringes, armed with relentless conviction and a story titled Aankhen—a thriller about blind bank robbers. Goyal’s persistence bordered on obsession. Every Sunday, he would arrive at Bachchan’s gate, often waiting hours for a glimpse of the star, only to be turned away by security. But he returned, undeterred, for months. His belief was simple: Aankhen was not just another film; it was Bachchan’s ticket back to relevance.
Bachchan’s financial woes were stark. ABCL’s failed ventures—from film production to event management—had drained his resources. Creditors circled, and his acting career had hit a dry patch with a string of forgettable roles. The industry, once reverent, began to write him off. Goyal’s timing, however, was impeccable. He recognized that Bachchan’s desperation for a hit could work in his favor. After multiple rejections, Goyal finally secured a meeting. He pitched Aankhen not as a charity project but as a commercially viable venture tailored to Bachchan’s strengths: intensity, gravitas, and a dual role that showcased his versatility.
The film’s production was a masterclass in frugal innovation. Goyal assembled a modest budget, roped in co-stars Akshay Kumar and Arjun Rampal, and negotiated profit-sharing deals to minimize upfront costs. Bachchan, impressed by Goyal’s tenacity, agreed to a reduced fee with backend participation—a gamble that would later pay dividends. Released in 2002, Aankhen defied expectations, grossing over ₹35 crore domestically and revitalizing Bachchan’s career. It wasn’t just a hit; it was a lifeline. The film’s success injected liquidity into Bachchan’s finances, helping him settle portions of his debt and negotiate better terms with creditors.
Behind the scenes, Goyal’s business acumen shone. He leveraged Bachchan’s star power to secure distribution deals and pre-sold music rights to mitigate risk. The film’s profitability enabled Bachchan to embark on a second act, leading to iconic roles in Black, Sarkar, and Paa. For Goyal, it was a career-defining triumph that underscored the power of perseverance in an industry often driven by connections over merit.
This episode offers broader lessons for India’s business landscape. First, resilience—often romanticized—is a practical strategy. Goyal’s Sundays outside Bachchan’s house were a testament to grinding persistence, a quality entrepreneurs in India’s volatile market ecosystem must embody. Second, strategic partnerships can reverse fortunes. Bachchan’s willingness to collaborate with an outsider—a calculated risk—yielded mutual rewards. In today’s startup culture, where founders often chase vanity metrics, the Aankhen story is a reminder that substance trumps spectacle.
Finally, it highlights the intersection of art and commerce in Bollywood, where creative risks are inextricably linked to financial outcomes. Bachchan’s bankruptcy phase wasn’t just a personal crisis; it was a business case study in turnaround management. Goyal, the outsider, read the market gap perfectly: audiences craved a return to the Bachchan of old, and he delivered precisely that.
Two decades later, as Bachchan reigns as a veteran icon, the legacy of Aankhen endures—not just as a blockbuster, but as a narrative of redemption forged through an unlikely alliance. In business, as in cinema, sometimes the most compelling stories are written by those who refuse to leave the gate.
