A few months ago, we sent him an email, and got a prompt and courteous reply, sending us his cellphone number, asking us to call him. When we spoke, he warned us that his health meant that there were days when he was just too tired to talk, so we’d have to take a chance that he might not be available when we were.
The day the stars align, Madhu and I knock at the door of the flat at Malabar Hill where Shammi Kapoor has been living for 51 years.
We are greeted by his charming wife, Neila, asked to make ourselves comfortable, offered coffee. A short while later, he glides in on an electric wheelchair (he tells us later, when we are talking about his passion for vehicles, that he had found and bought it online himself).
He will be 80 in October and he was very ill earlier in the year and spent some time in hospital. His large frame seems somehow shrunken, what’s left of his hair is wispy and white, fine wrinkles cover his hands, and instead of the hearty voice I expected, he sounds soft, airy, tired.
The conversation starts unpromisingly. He asks if I’d seen his Web site. Of course, I said, I had pored through junglee.org.in. “No,” he says, “I made that 20 years ago and I haven’t updated it for years. My grandchildren were that much…” he indicates a height about knee-level “…they’re all now 27, 26. No, I do a video blog, Shammi Kapoor Unplugged (youtube.com/show/shammikapoorunplugged). I speak for two, three, sometimes four minutes, going down memory lane. I’ve done about 45 incidents on it. The Films Division people are bringing out a DVD on my life.” He chuckles. “I thought it was more like an obituary. But I…” chuckle “…failed to die. You don’t need to talk to me. I’ve said it all there, whatever you want to know.” My heart sinks. “Everything, about me, the Internet…” I quickly interject: When did he get into computers, get online?
“When Rajji died, my niece [Raj Kapoor’s daughter] had come from Delhi. She had brought a small Apple Mac SE, and she was typing, some estate stuff. I had never seen a computer before. I asked her what this was. She said ‘Sit down. Type something.’ And that was that!
“A little later, I was going to Russia for my brother Shashi’s movie, Ajooba, via London. I found an Apple shop opposite Harrods at Knightsbridge; my wife went to Harrods and I went to the Apple store and she spent the whole day there and I spent the whole day at Apple.” That soft chuckle again.
His current set-up includes a G5 Mac Pro, two monitors, a Laptop Mac Pro, and an iPad. The iPad, he says, is “Beautiful. Especially in my condition. I go for dialysis thrice a week, and you lie down for four, five hours with one of your hands strapped to the needle. So I open the iPad and go to YouTube and I have thousands of my songs and pictures there.”
What was it about the Internet that hooked him? “Communication! Being able to share information! You’re on a global platform, reaching out to people all over the world.”
Was chatting online an interest? “I never indulged too much. I may seem like a yahooish type of a guy, but I’m very much a conservative. On chat you find a lot of young people who talk about…really…”
“I made my Web page myself. There was a young friend of mine who helped me — he’s no more — there was a very simple way. You go to other peoples page’s and pick up the source code, and you copy, and between you put what you want and delete theirs.” I tell him that’s exactly how I learned to make Web pages, and I get my first small smile of approval.
“The computer has been a fantastic companion. It’s a hobby and it’s kept me company. The computer has been a great, great, great pal of mine. I’d spend 10 hours, 11, 12 hours on the computer. I’d learn, I tried everything: Illustrator and Photoshop and you name it, I’ve done it all. And now I’ve forgotten it. It is very important to forget.” Why? “So that you can get something new! You’ve got to throw out some things to make space. Also, I’ve aged. I’ve been an ailing man for the past eight years — renal failure, dialysis — but I’m doing quite well for myself.”
(Later, he invites us into his computer room, to see his impressive multiple hard-disk twin-monitor set-up. He boots up and from one screen, flips a video over to the other. The ‘Chaand Sa Roshan Chehra’ song from Kashmir Ki Kali pours out over the speakers. “See?” he says, “I’m not dancing. But I’m expressing every beat of the song. Most of my songs were like that.” And, indeed, he is very literally rocking the boat, in time to the beat! He bolsters the point with the ‘Aasman Se Aaye Farishta’ from Evening in Paris, where, as Sharmila Tagore ‘water-skis’, he spends most of his screen time either dangling from a helicopter or on the prow of a speedboat, moving all the time.)
(This story appears in the 09 September, 2011 issue of Forbes India. To visit our Archives, click here.)
Last month the great actor Shammi Kapoor passed away...a great loss to Indian Cinema...
on Sep 7, 2011Thank you for this fine article. To briefly reiterate what I have said elsewhere. Bless you Dear Shammi Kapoor. On a practical note amidst a sea of levity, & admiration, honour this man, through deeds; Remaster & restore his films on DVD. Notorious example: A masterpiece like Teesri Manzil has about ½ hour missing from the DVD. Teesri Manzil is a true classic. That's a mini remastering project. It's a micro project! Is there 1 Indian journalist or participant in the Indian film industry, 1 industrialist looking to do worthy acts, a professional acquaintance or family willing to run with this? Indian film is a cutting edge art form, it has an incredible tradition. The film music from the best works is unmatched. It is vital for world culture that this heritage is cared for. To live on so brightly through his marvellous work is really wonderful. 2 generations of my family discovered Shammi's work. For us he is by far our favourite onscreen talent from any film industry at any time. That presence is so funny, so full of grace & that artistic freshness is still so vibrant, & of Now, in a way most Stuff today is certainly not. Films like Teesri manzil, Professor & Pagla Kahin Ka & Dil Deke Dekho are extraordinary. Like all great art, he took many traditions & inspirations, but then made something wonderful of it. Get serious & honour it. Mark, Australia
on Aug 29, 2011jai mata di shammiji i m very very sad ki u go for dialysis for 3 days in a week really u r great after havindg dialysis u have lots of strngth god bless i m not on dialysis but stil i cry very loudly once in a week i go in deppression i salute u babu ur in my heart u r my soul dharkan my life etc.
on Aug 29, 2011