I wake at 5.30, whether I’m working or not, because I go to the gym. It’s near my house and my driver takes me. The gym is a recent phenomenon. I made many action movies from the 1970s on, and that kept me fit. These days it’s less leading-man roles, more character roles, and I felt I needed to be more mobile, so I got a trainer. She has devised a routine — light weights, cardiovascular exercise, a bit of yoga — and I spend two hours following that.

I come back and have breakfast with my wife, Jaya — eggs, cereal, fruit, prepared by our cook. My family are very important to me. We all live under the same roof, including my son, Abhishek, and his wife, Aishwarya. In India, to have the family living together is the norm. That’s how I grew up.

I look at the newspapers and attend to any office work. My home is a little distraught — with a houseful of actors, there are scripts all over, but it’s manageable. I have a dog, a great dane called Shanuk; that is a red-Indian name for “a warm, gentle breeze on a cold winter morning”. I take him to my garden, which is big, and I play with him on the lawn. Then I go to the film studio.

I have three films on the floor [in production]; that is a conservative schedule by my country’s standards. India makes the largest number of movies per year in the world, and at one time I would have 15 to 20 projects on the floor at once, and we’d work from 7am to 10 at night. It is better organised now: a normal shift is 9 to 6.

I’ve just made a film with Abhishek and Aishwarya called Sarkar Raj, a political thriller. We often work in different parts of the country, so it’s wonderful when we can be together. If I need to be upset with the character any of my family is playing, I do that and I expect them to do the same. We don’t carry that sentiment out of the studio.

Bollywood films are very physically demanding. We have to do action, comedy and dance, and we might have four or five songs per day. It requires a lot of stamina and you have to be fit.

I don’t drink or smoke. With action sequences you need to take extra care.

I had a bad accident in 1982 when I was filming in Bangalore — I fell and ruptured my intestine. I spent two months in hospital and six months convalescing.

Sometimes the cast has lunch together, but more often I go back to my trailer and finish any work, like learning lines, and have my lunch there. I’m vegetarian, so it’s simple Indian food: dals, rotis, curries. Then I have a catnap, because I only sleep four or five hours at night.

I came to Mumbai in the 1960s from my home town, Allahabad, in Uttar Pradesh, in north India. It is built on the confluence of two sacred rivers, the Ganges and the Yamuna, and it is an important religious centre. Five Indian prime ministers have come from my city, including Nehru — a family friend — and great writers and poets, my father [Harivansh Rai Bachchan] being one. He was one of the first Indians to do a thesis in English literature at Cambridge.

There is a huge interest in Indian cinema now, which is why we started the International Indian Film Academy nine years ago. It promotes our film industry and builds bridges between nations. I’m very happy to be its brand ambassador.

I’ve been very lucky in my career — I’ve worked with some of the best directors, like the late Bimal Roy and Hrishikesh Mukherjee. I’ve never had an onscreen kiss, not in the Hollywood sense. Everything we do has to go through our country’s censor. But Indian cinema has changed, much as life has changed. Life used to be much slower: when we had to make a call from Mumbai to New York we’d wait a week for a connection. Now it can be done in a second by mobile phone. That has a psychological effect on everything, films included: people don’t want to stay with a visual for more than a few seconds.

Later in the day I do voiceovers or dubbing, and if there are sittings for song music I go to the recording studio.

I can’t sing — I’m so out of tune. I wish I could play an instrument properly: it is the frustration of my life. I play my piano and pretend I’m some great maestro, like Ravi Shankar or Zakir Hussain. I like photography, but I’m not good at that either. I’ve started a blog. I love it that fans think I’m sitting across from them.

We work every day, so there’s little chance of a holiday. I took a sabbatical once, in the 1990s: I went to the US and started a satellite-TV station for Indian audiences. But I think it was a mistake: when I came back to India five years later, I felt I’d missed out on the action.

Evenings we spend as a family, talking, or watching TV or a film. I like to have at least one meal a day with them. We rarely go out to dinner. When we do we have Chinese, Italian, Indian food.

If colleagues invite us to a premiere, we go. I can go about Mumbai, I don’t need to go incognito, but I don’t go out on the streets. I am a Hindu and I go to temple when I feel like it. It’s not regimented.

I have a little temple in the house. I don’t have a special god. God is omnipresent.

Bedtime is past midnight. I sleep as soon as my head hits the pillow. Dreams I never remember. What I never dream about is work.

Amitabh Bachchan’s Unforgettable Tour is at the London O2 Arena on August 24

Interview: Beverley D’Silva

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