Category: I Am

Farewell to Terence Stamp: A Regal Villain and a Fearless Diva

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

Today I received the sad news that Terence Stamp, an understated yet immensely distinguished and refined actor, has passed away at the age of 87. 🌹

Old age catches up with all of us, but this news struck me with a terrible sense of pathos. Terence Stamp was the actor I first saw as the antagonist to Christopher Reeve’s Superman. I was five when I saw the first film, and seven when I saw him again in the sequel as General Zod.

His Zod was unlike anything I’d seen before—commanding, regal, and filled with such dignity and menace that it left a lasting imprint on my young mind. For me, no later version of Zod ever came close. Zack Snyder’s interpretation simply didn’t have that same majesty, much like how Henry Cavill, in my opinion, could never quite capture what Christopher Reeve brought to Superman. But that’s just me, shaped by the magic of those formative years.

Bernadette

Of course, Terence Stamp was not just Zod. Years later, I saw him in Priscilla, Queen of the Desert—playing the marvellous diva Bernadette. He was born for that role. He brought elegance, courage, and sheer chutzpah to the screen, and for me, as someone connected to the homosexual subculture, it resonated deeply. To witness the same man who had once embodied the ultimate villain now shine as a gutsy, glamorous drag queen was extraordinary. It made my admiration for him reverberate through my life.

Hearing of his passing today brings with it the sadness of recognising that the people I grew up loving are slowly leaving us. That’s the way of life: people pass on, generations shift, and the torch is carried forward. I look ahead with interest at David Corenswet as the next Superman and Timothy Holt as Lex Luthor, but I can’t help but look back with gratitude at those who defined my childhood.

A Career of Depth and Range

Terence Stamp’s career stretched across six decades and showcased his extraordinary versatility. He made his film debut in Billy Budd (1962), earning an Academy Award nomination and a Golden Globe for his portrayal of the idealistic young sailor. He cemented his reputation with chilling performances in The Collector (1965) and later moved into international productions, including Fellini’s Spirits of the Dead.

In the 1980s, he appeared in Oliver Stone’s Wall Street (1987), proving his ability to remain relevant in every era. A new generation came to know his voice as Chancellor Valorum in Star Wars: The Phantom Menace (1999), and he never stopped surprising audiences with his range.

From swinging London in the sixties to blockbuster franchises and groundbreaking queer cinema, Terence Stamp moved seamlessly between worlds—always with refinement, depth, and magnetism.

Eternal Impressions

For me, he will always be remembered—not only as General Zod, but as Bernadette too. A legend who embodied both power and vulnerability, menace and elegance.

I hope the world remembers him as fondly as I do. I, for one, always will.

The Mirrors In the Mahal

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

A friend of mine is doing a show, and he has asked me to perform to two songs. One, of course, is a Sit Down qawwali — but the second song is a dance number. Basically, it’s a courtesan’s number, it comes from one of my favourite movies. You guessed it. It is picturised on one of my favourite actresses, Madhubala. It is sung by one of my favourite singers, Lata Mageshkar. It is composed by one of my favourite composers — Naushad Sahab.

When I see it on screen, it reminds me of a revolution. It reminds me of how love conquers all. It is the song that led me into the revolution of being proud of who I am, being proud of the men that I fall in love with.

It’s basically been an anthem since — I can remember — in terms of identity, in terms of a reaction against hatred, a reaction against bullying, against prejudice and against my own dad at times. I used to dance to this when I was young, wearing a ghagra, and thinking that I was Madhubala, standing up for my lover and my own love.

As I grew up, I realised that it’s a feminist song. It is a song where a woman reclaims her own agency, and says that I don’t care what the world says to me, I have to live by my own beliefs and by the virtue of my love. As I grew, and I grew into my own homosexual identity, I realised that this is the song that empowers. It’s like a gay anthem, obviously. And so it’s like talking about the closet. It says:

प्यार किया तो डरना क्या?

It says:

पर्दा नहीं जब कोई खुदा से, तो बंदों से पर्दा करना क्या?

These words are epic. These lyrics are epic. These lyrics resound in my own head and in my own heart. It brought in its own life lesson on love. Or rather, how it ought to be. It taught me about the Self. How one should see one’s self and be true to it. 

So when this opportunity came to me, I jumped at it. Then, I thought that I could not do it — because there are so many hitches, actually. There are so many things that keep me second guessing. 

I used to be a Kathak dancer. But I stopped dancing because my left knee just gave out in 2010. And now, of course, I can’t dance on it. My orthopaedic surgeon has told me — when I went for a check-up — that I shouldn’t be dancing at all. I also have a rotator cuff injury in my right shoulder, since months which is excruciatingly painful.

I have mentioned all of this to my friend who is hosting the show — who’s doing the show. He gave me an option to drop out but he also believes in me. And I mean, there are those who love me — who said that I shouldn’t be doing it, because of the pain, because of what I may be going through, and because of what I may go through after the show.

There could be further knee damage. There could be further damage to my shoulder. But I seriously feel that I need to jump at this chance — in the sense of this particular song — because it’s something that I lived by, you see. It was something that brought meaning to my formative years. 

And I’ve seen the show on stage — Feroz Khan’s Mughal-e-Azam — that tours the world. And I’ve always loved the way the song has been choreographed. I’ve seen it twice now. And it’s epic — the way they do this song. It’s such a spectacle to love up to in entirety. 

Of course, I could never match up to the choreography. So I did the choreography myself. I’ve been practising for the last three weeks. And I told my friend that I may not do it — give me a few days. He’d given me about a fortnight to think about it and rehearse and see if I can choreograph it. And I have done so.

Initially, I thought that I would ask somebody else to dance the pure dance part before the number starts. But then I decided that that would be cheating. I had to do it myself. And I really have put in my time, my effort, my entire heart into this.

And I don’t know how it’s going to be — the show is in ten days — but I am preparing a costume, and I’m preparing the choreography. Even today, I rehearsed and I tweaked a little bit of the dance movements — to suit the fact that I can’t do 27 chakras in one go. But I managed to pull in about nine of them in the piece within the piece.

And my body doth protest. Right now, my neck is hurting, my knee is hurting, and my shoulder is hurting. So I’m in pain. I’m also very anxious — wondering whether I’ll be able to pull it off on stage, and wondering whether I’ll be able to, you know, live up to the beauty, the sheer magnificence of the song.

I’m going to try my best. And then, of course, let the chips fall as they may. But I just wanted to put this out there — as to why I want to do it, and what drives me to do it despite the problems that I’m facing. And I think it’s a chance for me to be beautiful, and proud, and magnificent — through the pain.

That’s why I’m doing it.

The Many Faces of Anxiety

Published on by Harpreet Chhachhia1 Comment

I didn’t set out to write about anxiety today. But like most days that begin gently and gather weight, yesterday left me with a churning restlessness I couldn’t shake off. And now here I am, trying to name it.

It began with animal abuse videos flooding my Instagram feed—violent, horrific glimpses into a world I wish didn’t exist. I know we’re all supposed to just scroll past or log off, but I can’t. That’s my weakness, maybe. I can’t look away when animals are in pain. I shared many of those videos to my story—perhaps to shake others awake, perhaps because I didn’t know what else to do.

In India right now, there’s been a surge of hostility towards stray dogs, after a tragic incident where an athlete and animal lover died of rabies—because he didn’t take a post-bite vaccination. That one lapse has turned into widespread panic. Dogs are being relocated, mistreated, even culled. And while his death was tragic, it was also preventable. But instead of addressing that, society’s instinct has been to punish the voiceless. It’s breaking my heart.

On top of that, I’ve been rehearsing for a dance performance—something very close to my heart. A friend invited me to perform two songs I’ve loved since childhood. One of them being physically gruelling as it involves about 6 minutes of continuous dancing – and I’ve poured myself into it: choreographed it, envisioned it, even arranged for the costume. But my body… it’s starting to feel like it’s turning on me. My right shoulder’s frozen, and after Saturday’s long rehearsal, my left knee’s in real pain again—echoing an old injury that once had me limping for months. It frightens me that my mind is dancing ahead, full of rhythm and joy, while my body is buckling, unsure it can carry me through.

I felt like Mary Carson from The Thorn Birds, bitterly remarking to Ralph that it’s God’s final cruelty—to give us hope and desire, while letting our bodies decay. I understand that sentiment too well today.

I’m going to see my physiotherapist again, hoping for answers or at least reassurance. But the truth is, I’m scared. I’m anxious that I won’t be able to perform, or worse—that I’ll damage my body even more trying to prove something. My family doesn’t want me to do this. But I do. I want it so badly because I know I can do it well—if only my body holds out.

Then, as if all that wasn’t enough, I ended up scrolling through old photos—of people who are no longer in my life. And the weight of those absences returned, quietly and cruelly. Some losses never announce themselves again—they just slip back into you, uninvited, and take up space.

The day was dark, grey, and rainy. And I felt that same heaviness. A familiar bleakness.

I’ve written so much about anxiety on this blog before, and yet, here I am again. Because anxiety is not a one-time visitor—it wears different masks, speaks in different voices, shows up at different doors.

But what I do want to say—what I need to remind myself of—is this: sometimes, anxiety walks hand in hand with longing. With courage. With hope. When you’re anxious about doing something, and yet you still want to do it—and you try anyway—that’s the human spirit. That’s what matters.

I just hope I don’t end up hurt. And I hope I don’t hurt anyone else while trying. So I’ll move forward—but with care. With awareness. With as much wisdom as I can muster.

And if you’re feeling like this too—heavy, restless, caught between desire and doubt—please know you’re not alone. Some days will be like this. And that’s okay.

…

I must add this note: I finished writing this post a few minutes ago and I went on Instagram to check up on messages. The first picture, I happened to see was a quote from a page I follow. I must share it here.

I take this as a sign from the universe. This quote speaks to the essential truth of transformation: that before renewal, there is pain. The imagery of “rising from the ashes” is that of the myth of the phoenix, a magnificent bird that dies in flames and is reborn from them. It so happens I have it tattooed on my left arm. Kalen Dion’s words remind us not to romanticise the rebirth without acknowledging the fire.

Suddenly I find the quote being a balm for the anxious, grieving, aching, and the hopeful me — and in fact, all of us who are in the middle of our fire. It says: Yes, you’re hurting now. But you won’t be ash forever. You’re becoming. Stay brave.

And I intend to.