On December 4, 2017, there were unseasonal showers around 6.25pm in Mumbai. It was as if the skies were crying. Shashi Kapoor, 79, had just passed away, his handsome face suddenly rediscovered by every news channel.

Although he spent the last few years in a world of his own and he was clearly ailing, the inevitable still jolted the film industry.

My own last memory of the man with whom I spent the best years of journalism was seeing him in a wheelchair at Prithvi Theatre, his favourite place in his final days. "Please don't mind, he doesn't recognise anyone these days," said his handler gently.

I'd rather remember him as the man who sparkled with mischief and mirth, the host who'd go for long after-dinner walks with us in Mahabaleshwar or Junagadh, wherever he was shooting. Whether a co-actor was hitting on you or a visit to the local theatre turned unruly because of overexcited fans, Shashi Kapoor was the chivalrous one who'd first make sure that the ladies were safe. He'd put you in the car and then duck or cover his face with his hands. He did that because he believed that the face was every actor's fortune and he must protect it from harm. There was many an amusing tale he had to tell of crowds thronging his car and Shashi only bothered about saving his face, literally.

And what a face it was. Although he made fun of his own "uneven teeth", he knew he had a face that made the girls swoon. Both at home and abroad.

We live in times when Priyanka Chopra is feted for putting India on a global platform and Anupam Kher is applauded for his Hollywood forays.

But long before any actor did that, it was Shashi Kapoor who did it all. He had a special relationship with Merchant-Ivory Productions, especially Ismail who was once a Bombay boy.

Like all the Kapoors, he spoke impeccable English, was also married to British actress Jennifer Kendal, and he easily straddled Hindi and English films like Shakespeare Wallah, Bombay Talkie and Heat & Dust.

In Hindi too, while films like Chor Machaye Shor and dozens of films co-starring Amitabh Bachchan (including iconic ones like Trishul, Deewaar, Kabhi Kabhie) and other heroes kept him as busy as "a taxi" (an epithet given to him by older brother Raj Kapoor), Shashi Kapoor poured all that he'd earned into two financially high-risk areas: he produced non-mainstream cinema like Junoon, Kalyug and Utsav (none of which gave him huge returns) and in setting up Prithvi Theatre (1978) where he converted his father's Juhu property into a hallowed ground for forgotten theatre.

Prithvi was his ode both to his father Prithviraj Kapoor, the father who'd stand at the exit at the end of a play and humbly collect whatever the audience gave him, and to theatre itself where Shashi began his career as an actor. Theatre, where he met and married Jennifer Kendal.

For an actor who tried hard not to let the Kapoorian kilos pile on, Shashi let himself go once Jennifer passed in 1984. Ballooning in his white kurta-pyjama, it was as if he'd given himself a death wish 33 years too early. But he did have his mischievous twinkle when he'd tell me quietly, "It's not as if I don't have my 'ding-dongs' but nothing serious ever again for me."

Unlike Shashi, older brother Shammi Kapoor lived life to the fullest, to the last breath. Watching Shashi withdraw prematurely from the world, Shammi said to me, "He doesn't come anywhere. When we forced him to come to Bhabhiji's place (Krishna Raj Kapoor's house) for a family dinner, he came there but didn't speak to anyone. He was there physically but mentally he was in his own world." It was coincidentally at the prayer meeting for Shammi Kapoor that Shashi perhaps recognised me for the last time, a little twinkle in the eye and a lopsided smile when he shook hands.

His films and Prithvi Theatre will keep Shashi Kapoor alive for years to come. But recognition like the Dadasaheb Phalke Award came too late. Prithviraj Kapoor got it posthumously. Raj Kapoor received his dramatically when he collapsed in the hall, never to recover.

Shashi Kapoor was conferred the prestigious award from the Government of India when he barely knew what was happening around him. A bevy of actresses, including Rekha, Neetu, Zeenat Aman, Waheeda Rehman, Asha Parekh and Shabana Azmi, posed around him when he got the award. He would've loved that visual had it happened before he mentally went into a world of his own.

After seeing him in that wheelchair at Prithvi in his last days, death was perhaps a relief for Shashi Kapoor. And it would be wiser to remember the many happy times spent with him. At one time, Amitabh and he did so many hit films together that they'd co-host the celebrations. With a common PRO called Gopal Pandey, it was that much easier for both actors to throw parties for their colleagues and the media.

When Amitabh was at Breach Candy seriously injured during the filming of Manmohan Desai's Coolie (1983) and it was impossible to get to wife Jaya or the rest of the family, it was Shashi Kapoor who'd go over and come back to give many of us a daily report. "Maatam ke liye abhi se khade hain (they're standing as if they're already in mourning)," he'd crib about other visitors who'd crowd the hospital and wait for news with funereal faces. "Amit's going to be fine," he'd add reassuringly.

It's an empty feeling that Shashi himself will no longer be around. RIP, the most charming man of the Hindi film industry.