For most of my life, my familiarity with Shammi Kapoor was mainly through his film music. My dad is a Shammi fan; as a child, I remember he used to have a radio cassette player by his bedside at night, with the song ‘Akele Akele’ echoing from my parents’ room into ours, putting us to sleep like a faint lullaby.
My interest in Shammi Kapoor as an actor was fairly recent. In 2019, when the South Asian community was in uproar over the revocation of Article 370 granting special status to Kashmir, I felt compelled to disengage. Very instinctively, I decided to watch Kashmir ki Kali simply to see Kashmir in the 60s, because just watching Shammi Kapoor crooning 'Yeh Chand Sa Roshan Chehra' from his shikara on Dal Lake seemed so familiar and comforting at that moment.
I then embarked on a Shammi Kapoor movie marathon and observed his undeniable genius as an actor and a comic - just look at the disguises he donned in his movies - he played the older uptight Professor, he gracefully performed the mujra in Bluffmaster, and pulled off many convincing disguises as a Tamilian, an Arab and a Pandit!
Indeed he was a great actor, but it was his attitude to life that stands out to me. His was a true underdog story. Part of the Kapoor clan and married to famed actress Geeta Bali, for many years, Shammi Kapoor was shadowed by fame but experienced very little of his own. It took him more than ten films to find his unique voice and style - he tactfully brought his innate characteristics to his on-screen persona - the spring in his step, the glint in his eye, his ducktail hairstyle with a fringe, the unfolded collar, the groove in the dance, the charm in the dialogue. Bringing together all these elements, he unlocked fame in a time when audiences worshipped the Raj Kapoor-Dilip Kumar-Dev Anand trio.
Shammi Kapoor also used his love for music as part of his toolkit to gain fandom. Imagine the confidence to convince stalwarts like Shankar-Jaikishin and Mohammed Rafi to infuse 'Shammi-ness' into their music compositions and rendering. But he wasn’t just throwing his weight around - trained in Indian classical music for five years, he genuinely felt music in his veins and knew the beats that would strum at the heartstrings of fans long after they left the cinema hall. When he returned to the sets of Teesri Manzil after the tragic death of his wife Geeta Bali, he poured his grief and love while emoting the famous song ‘Tumne Mujhe Dekha’. Asha Bhonsle once said, if she were a man, she’d have loved to sing for Shammi.
That brings me to this sketch I made of Shammi Kapoor in Feb 2020. It’s a still from his 1960 movie called College Girl; a little known movie where the heroine, Vajayantimala, plays the main protagonist. She is a young woman with a desire to unshackle herself from societal norms wanting to study medicine and become a doctor. So what was Shammi Kapoor doing in this movie? He defied the classic Indian hero standards to play second fiddle helping his heroine pursue her career and fight patriarchy. And in the movie Junglee, he broke loose yelling ‘Yahooo’ from the mountaintops, injecting electricity into the wires of Indian Cinema in the 60s when heroes typically played holier-than-thou roles. And did you know, he once refused to work for months on end until he got the story and money he deserved, and opted instead to travel across Japan to experience the world. This man was a true progressive and so ahead of his time.
As he aged and gained weight, he gladly experimented with character roles. In the 80s he enjoyed the rekindled adulation he received from his Pan Parag ad, one that his brother Raj Kapoor chided him for, but Shammi innocently admitted he did the ad only so he could share screen space with Ashok Kumar. Shammi Kapoor not only moved with the times but stayed ahead of it. He was one of India's first internet users. In the early 2000s he started his YouTube channel where he fondly recounted memories from his movie career, and pioneered ‘short form content’ before it became mainstream. The aged Kapoor suffered from severe ailments but never lost his appetite for life! So in sharing my essay and sketch today, my hope is that you leave here feeling inspired to rediscover the magic of Shammi Kapoor.
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