Remembering B-town's Livewire Hero No 1

Whenever I drive past the neatly-preserved, multi-storied Blue Haven, in south Bombay's still-swishy Malabar Hill, my heart begins to flip flop. His family continues to live there, in a garden-fronted, ground-floor apartment. For me, he will always be in that haven; last encountered, he was ensconced before a personal computer surfing the rapidly-evolving world of the Internet.
The seventh death anniversary of Shammi Kapoor, Bollywood's all-time Livewire Hero No 1, falls on August 14. His end came at the age of 79. And if you haven't had a look at his dance-and-music entertainers from the black-and-white era of the 1950s right down to the breezy, VIBGYOR-hued romedies of the '60s, you're seriously missing out on the fun-time milestones of Hindi cinema.
Believe me, so many of the golden oldies have dated, but certainly not the uninhibited, often zanily inventive, oeuvre of the actor who was monikered "the rebel star" for taking on derring-do roles, besides dancing up a storm which also earned him the title of the 'Elvis Presley of India'.
Presley's Jailhouse Rock (1957) had kickstarted a distinctive rock-and-roll style. Shammi Kapoor took it steps forward, with his restless yet graceful body rhythm. Indeed, like his big brother Raj Kapoor, he possessed a sharp ear for music, and would frequently suggest tunes to composers, sourced from western chartbusters as well as Indian folk melodies.
And he would share the treasureful of tunes buzzing in his mind with his colleagues. For instance, at an outdoor shoot for the film Zameer (1975), he is believed to have hummed a folksy lilt in the presence of Amitabh Bachchan. Eventually, that tune inspired the popular track Neela aasmaan so gaya in Silsila (1981), recorded in the voice of Bachchan.
"Shammiji would always make it a point to be present at the music sittings," says Asha Parekh, who was introduced as a leading lady opposite him in Dil Deke Dekho (1959). He worked with the film's composer Usha Khanna to listen to the McGuire Sisters' Sugartime in the morning, before finalising the title track. The yesteryear's actress adds, "His contribution to the soundtracks of his movies is incalculable. I remember he was very excited about working on the songs of Teesri Manzil (1966) with RD Burman. As a big star, he could have imposed his opinions, but he believed in teamwork. He would recommend a tune to the composers and leave it at that."
Ideating music was just one of Shammi Kapoor's forte. Improvising dialogue in a way that the lines wouldn't sound verbose, a spontaneous sense of comic timing, and sparking palpable chemistry with his leading ladies on screen were among the other aces up the actor's sleeve. Apart from Asha Parekh, Saira Banu (Junglee, 1961) and Sharmila Tagore (Kashmir Ki Kali, 1964) made their Bollywood debuts opposite him. Ironically enough, as he aged, he portrayed the father of Saira Banu in Zameer. By then, after playing the last of his romantic leads with Hema Malini in Andaz (1971) and Leena Chandavarkar in Jaane Anjaane (1971), he had stoically made the transition to character parts.
Here's coming to the Shammi Kapoor I met. I had the privilege of conducting four to five interviews with him. In the Blue Haven garden, his green-grey eyes had gone damp, his voice had become raspy and his apple red complexion had paled. He wasn't in the best of health. Bills had to be paid. Meanwhile, he had founded the Internet Users Community of India and the Ethical Hackers Association, besides starting a website that was devoted to the expansive Kapoor family.
For the second-born son of the legendary actor Prithviraj Kapoor, success hadn't come on a platter. Like his brothers Raj and Shashi, Shammi had to struggle in his initial years, featuring in forgettable films like Jeewan Jyoti (1953), Rail Ka Dibba (1953) and Miss Coca Cola (1955) - till there was a reversal of fortune. Atop a tonga, serenading his coy heroine Ameeta with the title song of Tumsa Nahin Dekha (1957), he cantered out of the flop ghetto.
Significantly, Junglee, the yahoo flick, shot sumptuously in Kashmir, ushered in the era of the colourful, feel-wonderful romances. Saira Banu, returned with him in Bluff Master (1963) but delayed the project, it is conjectured, because she wanted it to be re-shot in colour. Today, its signature song Govinda aala re picturised on the actor on the streets, continues to be blared during Janmashtami all over the country. And his free-form street dance has been imitated but never bettered.
I'm sure every aficionado has his or her own favourite Shammi Kapoor film. Mine are his performances as an orphanage's guardian angel in Brahmachari(1968), which went on to inspire the characterisation, in part, of Anil Kapoor in Mr India (1987). And there's the ever-endearing Professor (1962), in which he was the young man in an old man's guise. In Teesri Manzil, he was in terrific form as the club musician enmeshed in a murder, a role which was curiously nixed by Dev Anand.
Among his box-office triumphs, which thrilled generations from the 1950s to the 1970s, count Ujala (1959), China Town (1962), Dil Tera Diwana (1962), Kashmir Ki Kali, Rajkumar (1964), Janwar (1965) and An Evening In Paris (1967). His crossover to avuncular parts may have been smooth, but, in between, his shots at direction with Manoranjan (1974) and Bundal Baaz (1976) didn't really find favour with the masses or the mandarins.
Right till the setting in of middle age, the star was a typical Kapoor, fond of la dolce vita. He tended to put on weight but then it is unimaginable to think of a lean Shammi. His second wife, Neila Devi Gohil, brought him stability when he was wild and reckless. Perhaps he never recovered from the sudden death of Geeta Bali, whom he had eloped with and married in the cover of the night at the famed Banganga temple, just a pebble's throw away from Blue Haven.
Before he became a household name, the grapevine had linked him with belly dancer Nadia Gamal. When she moved to Cairo, their friendship was over. There was some talk of him proposing marriage to Mumtaz, who was in the supporting cast of Brahmachari, which came to nought.
In the course of a late evening interview session, he had said, "From the rebel star, I have now become the grumpy old man of Malabar Hill. Everyone knows my address and phone number. I take on roles only when the old guys still have something solid to do. I refuse to flit around a set, wearing a dressing gown and smoking a cigar."
Shammi Kapoor was last seen in a posthumous cameo with his grand-nephew Ranbir Kapoor in Imtiaz Ali's Rockstar (2011). On the eve of the film's release, Ranbir had said fondly, "He was the one and only rockstar of Bollywood. My grandfather, Raj Kapoor, died when I was very young. So I considered Shammiji as my grandfather. When he first came on the sets, he was very nervous. He behaved like a newcomer. He wondered if his role could be extended. And he would flirt with all the girls."
Now that was Shammi Kapoor, the entertainer for all seasons.
wknd@khaleejtimes.com