I remember the first time I saw Shammi Kapoor in a film. It was this:
Let me tell you why this film holds a special place in my heart. Probably most obviously is the fact that I lived in France for a while, and I still get a kick seeing snippets of it on screen. And even though much of the film was shot elsewhere (Munich, Switzerland, North Africa), I love the idea of Shammi and Sharmila Tagore in one of my favourite cities, Paris. I've actually flown through Orly airport once -- a solo trip to Paris for my birthday one year, and given that I'm kind of shy and reserved and lacking in confidence much of the time, the small reference to Orly in the film brought back a happy memory for me.
But the moment I first saw this film is important, too. We'd moved back to Canada, something I knew was inevitable, but which made me kind of unhappy, as I'd felt at home in France like I've never felt at home anywhere else in the world. I totally did not expect to have to deal with culture shock -- but we'd been away for long enough, and had adapted well enough to life in France that dealing with North American culture again really threw me for a loop (there were so many things I had no clue about anymore -- and so many things I didn't realized I'd just become accustomed to, like the fact that North Americans talk Very Very Loudly. For the longest time it felt like everyone was shouting at me, until I adapted to it again). Add in the fact that I was no longer used to Canadian winters (acquaintances in France used to tease me, because while they bundled up in winter, I didn't. In fact, most of my Canadian winter gear went into storage. I absolutely did not miss wearing long underwear, not one little bit.)
So, I was dealing with a lot of stuff that left me feeling kind of depressed. Add in to the mix the nasty fall I took on the ice in January, which left me unable to walk for a while, and drugged up to the eyeballs. In my heart of hearts, I knew the Universe was prepping me for a lesson, but mostly I was tired and frustrated at how much stuff in my life was going wrong (and had no idea that it could actually get a little worse).
I wasn't used to being stuck at home unable to do much of anything except watch television. Certainly our weekends were packed with so much stuff that had to get done or things we needed to squeeze in that there was never time for television. But sitting there, I discovered that one of the local channels was still showing the Bollywood films I used to scan now and then many years before. And one of the films that turned up one weekend was Shakti Samanta's An Evening in Paris, starring Sharmila Tagore and Shammi Kapoor.
I'm still stunned that it took me so long to get to Shammi's films. But everything happens for a reason, and everything in life has its time and place and purpose. An Evening in Paris made me feel incredibly happy, something I hadn't felt for far too long. It made me laugh and smile, which helped make the pain I was in at the time just a little more bearable. Shammi's films were added to my list of comfort films, ones I could turn to to make me feel better when life was getting me down.
(Aside: the first few months after moving to France proved to be incredibly stressful, even though we'd been amply prepared for what to expect. In fact, one of the things I'd read told me that I could probably expect to feel worst about six months after settling in -- and it was right. And right in the midst of this, the film Le fabuleux destin d'Amélie Poulain released in French cinemas. I saw that film SIX times in the theatre. It made me feel so happy, and made me realize how much I really loved France.)
So, my point here is: Shammi's films make me happy. Even recently -- the one film I'd not seen is the iconic Junglee, and not too long ago, when Mr. Totally Filmi had been out of work closing in on a year and a half, and I didn't know how we were going to make ends meet, and I'd been working crazy hours trying to help out, and I was tired and stressed and sad and feeling hopeless -- well, Junglee turned up in the post box, and I cannot tell you how much I laughed, and how much better I felt as a result.
That's probably why, yesterday, when I opened my Twitter timeline to the news that Shammi Kapoor had passed away, I cried. I'm not much of a crier, but Shammi's death, and, more importantly, all those tweets from people who had been touched by his work, well, they just got to me.
And then I went to the YouTubes to watch some clips of Shammi, to make me feel better. Thank goodness for all those wonderful moments captured on film, moments that will make me feel better when life throws me a few curve balls. Moments to make me smile. To make me laugh. To remind me that no matter what, life is really worth living, worth celebrating and, well, worth shouting about:
Thank you, Shammi, for cheering me up and making me smile when I didn't think I could. I know I should wish that you rest in peace, but, frankly, I prefer to imagine you in a heaven where you can tumble down snowy hills and scream, "Yahoooo!".
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