This is one of my favorite films: I love it unconditionally and without reservation and, needless to say, without a shred of objectivity. I will never forget the joy with which I first watched it, a joy that has never diminished, and the love it gave me for Shammi (also undiminished). Shammi Shammi Shammi! I had seen him in a few other films and liked him okay; but this—this sent me tumbling head over heels, never to recover. His charm and chemistry with Asha Parekh stunned me (and so did she). This is also the first Vijay Anand film I saw, and of course I’ve gone on to love a lot more of his work, too. And can I say any more at this point about my Helen worship? I think not.
My ten favorite sharaab songs
As a gori mem who enjoys her gigantic icy-cold Kingfishers every day while in India (and “several” glasses of wine every other evening), I do love a good song about the devil’s potion! Inspired by Dusted Off’s post on the same subject, I have changed one of her rules: I’m including fake-pretend drinking because it’s a fascinating (to me anyway) artifact of Hindi movies. If you need to chase someone off, or get them to hate you—pretend to have a drink! (I would be lonely and unwanted indeed!) Of course some would point out that *most* movie drinking is “pretend” unless you are Dharmendra. I am only including songs from movies I’ve seen, where I loved the song and the performance and picturization of it. Liking the film is a plus too, but not strictly necessary.
Ziddi (1964)
In the wake of my post espousing the awesomeness that is Asha P, several people recommended that I watch this. And indeed, I’m glad they did: Asha is at her feisty, gun-totin’ best. And the songs—my God, the songs! They are made of beautiful, all of them, and the film is worth watching just for them alone.
My quibble with the movie is that things slow to a crawl in the middle as the combative courtship between Asha and Joy Mukherjee drags on—and it turns them into cruel and thoughtless people, too. The last half hour picks up again, luckily, but the middle hour or so really could have used some editing (and an animal activist or two). The Comic Side Plot is also far too intrusive: Mehmood again, given lots of screen time to compensate for his hefty compensation, I guess. A little of him goes a long way (and a lot of him can bring the main plot to a halt) especially when it’s the same exact CSP every time.
Feel the love! Asha Parekh
Asha Parekh is my favorite heroine in Hindi cinema. There, I’ve said it, and I’m carving it here in blog-stone for posterity. I should also say that in topping that list, she reigns over some of the most beautiful and talented women in film history! I am sure some will disagree with me, but my reasons for picking her are as many and varied as the films she starred in over a very long and distinguished career.
She is, when all is said and done, a woman you could steal horses with.
Chirag (1969)
Sometimes even a viewer with no clue about filmmaking (that would be me) can sense when the director (in this case, Raj Khosla) is a good one. Such is the case with this film, which has a fairly unremarkable story (until the end, when it plunges into irritatingly stupid) and pleasant but dull music (Madan Mohan). But the romantic chemistry between the lead pair alongside the interesting camera work and the brisk pace keeps everything going, which kept me going too. The sometimes hilarious subtitles helped, although I doubt that Raj Khosla had anything to do with those. I should also say that Asha Parekh looked absolutely gorgeous in this film, and I think our director thought so too, because there are a lot of lingering closeups of our heroine!
My ten favorite Laxmi Chhaya songs
As many of you know already, I am bewildered by the fact that this charming and beautiful woman never made it big as a heroine. The closest she came was in Mere Gaon Mere Desh, where she absolutely shines as dacoit Vinod Khanna’s spy who falls in love with the object of her assignment—Dharmendra. I’ve loved her since I saw Gumnaam years ago and she tore up the dance floor with Herman and company. Like her contemporary Helen, she is able to dance to any kind of song: tawaif, night club, village entertainment. Her most captivating feature in my opinion is her smile—it lights up the screen with joy, and there’s no mistaking it for anyone else’s. Plus, nobody dances like she does—it gives me whiplash just watching her sometimes, but she comes through unscathed!
Mere Sanam (1965)
If ever a film really really really (really) wanted to be a Shammi film, it’s this one. It has:
- Feisty Asha Parekh as the reluctant heroine (eventually won over after being stalked relentlessly by the hero)
- A gaggle of girlfriends around her (chief amongst them Laxmi Chhaya!)
- Sidekick Rajendranath (complete with loony antics)
- Pran in an orange wig
- Lovely lovely songs by OP Nayyar (sung beautifully by Rafi and Asha B.)
- Kashmir, gorgeous Kashmir (and quite a few plot elements lifted directly from Kashmir Ki Kali)
All it really lacks is Shammi himself. Instead, we are given…Biswajeet. Poor Biswajeet. However, he does his best to imitate Shammi and mostly it’s a fun-packed and stylish delectation; it does go a bit off the rails at the end into kidnapping and murder territory (oh, Pran. Pran, Pran, Pran). The DVD picture quality is pretty bad too: someone should restore this one for sure! A very young Mumtaz graces the screen with her presence briefly, and there is the usual assortment of character actors and rotund funnymen adding to the entertainment. And I simply LOVE the songs.
Ted Lyons & His Cubs update
My favorite band Ted Lyons & His Cubs have been spotted two more times now (film numbers five and six!) by dustedoff (thank you for letting me know).
They accompany a shimmying Laxmi Chhaya (and some guy with a lampshade on his head) in 1967’s Raat Aur Din which I am dying to see but cannot find anywhere *sob*:
And here they are in 1965’s Mere Sanam (review coming up!):
Incidentally, this guy shows up in the same scene, dancing with Asha. I need to know who he is! Pompadour Man! I see him everywhere.
Someone said once that he might be Vijay or Oscar from the choreographer duo, but I can’t find much about them either.
So many questions, so few answers. Hindi film history is so murky and veiled in mystery. Sigh.
Edited to update: He is in fact Oscar! One mystery solved.
Are you a Shammi Kapoor fan?
The Institute for Near Eastern and African Studies (INEAS) is producing a documentary film called “Professor Shammi & Lady Asha.” The Insititute’s Founding Director, with whom I’ve become acquainted (see her interviews with Shammi here and here), is directing this film about him and Asha Parekh, and is looking for volunteers to participate.
She has also met Asha, and you can read accounts of her travels in India on her blog here.
If you love Shammi (or Asha, or both!), and are interested in talking to her you can leave a comment here or send her an email: INEAS at aol dot com. Some volunteers will participate in a discussion that will be incorporated in the film. Please respond to INEAS by March 16.
Jawan Mohabbat (1971)
Whenever a “new” old Shammi film finally appears (with subtitles) on DVD there is much joy and celebration in the Memsaab household, tail-wagging (Gemma) and jumping up and down (me) and so on. If Asha Parekh is his co-star along with Pran, the celebration is even more prolonged. Sadly, there is no Helen; and despite her looming presence on the DVD cover (and in the cast list) no Mumtaz either, but these are minor issues in the face of heretofore unseen Shammi. Shammi, Shammi, Shammi!
And happily, the first half of this film is quintessential early sixties Shammi-style frothy fun, as he bombards a reluctant and feisty Asha with his mischievous charm and romantic songs. But then everything turns suddenly dark, with death and blackmail looming large, and levels of gloom, self-pity and self-sacrifice rarely seen even by the most devoted Hindi cinema fan (me again). If you don’t mind a little movie multiple personality disorder, then you can probably tolerate it. If you prefer a logical narrative without completely over-the-top dramatics…then you probably aren’t reading this anyway.









