The crew jumps straight into how Mira Nair shot Salaam Bombay! with a documentary mind-set. Khilli explains that Nair “has talked about like her documentary style being like the fly-on-the-wall… she uses the term cinéma vérité”, setting up the episode’s big theme: raw authenticity over slick polish. Adam pushes back against critics who label the film exploitative: “That’s why I don’t think it’s poverty porn either… she’s just showing it for what it is”.

They dig into production war-stories Nair shared in interviews—two or three takes per shot because film stock was scarce, ropes strung across bustling streets to carve out makeshift sets, and cameras hidden inside tea-carts so crowds wouldn’t notice they were in a movie. Winnie loves the ingenuity, calling it “impressive to do in a crowd like Bombay”.

From there the hosts break down the story’s relentless setbacks: Krishna’s 500-rupee goal and the way every dropped chai glass chips away at it; Chilum’s spiral into “brown sugar” addiction; and Baba’s choke-hold on everyone around him. Nicky sums up the emotional toll: “kids try to survive in a land that is just not kind to them”. Adam geeks out on structure, praising the 500-rupee countdown as “a brilliant plot device” that keeps tension high while still feeling slice-of-life.

Ethics take center stage when the conversation shifts to the real street children cast. The hosts debate workshop methods, trust funds, and whether a 1988 production could meet today’s standards of trauma-informed care. Winnie worries that the film “emphasises their sadness and their pain,” while Adam cites the director’s creation of the Salaam Balak Trust as evidence of follow-through.

They also celebrate cinema history nuggets: Irfan Khan’s first screen appearance, the single-take Ganapati procession, and Roger Ebert’s rave that the film “has a documentary eye with a narrative heart.” Behind every anecdote is a reminder of limited resources—no money for extra film, no chance at a “happy ending” epilogue—mirroring the constraints faced by Krishna himself.

The talk finishes on performances: Nana Patekar’s magnetic yet unsettling Baba, Shafiq Syed’s heartbreaking final breakdown, and how Nair’s insistence on “teaching kids to not act” keeps every moment painfully honest. By the time Adam calls the ending “depressing but fantastic,” all four hosts admit the movie left them gutted, enlightened, and maybe just a little grateful for childhoods that weren’t cut short by Bombay’s streets.