For writer Unni R, remembering Salim Kumar means remembering laughter

For writer Unni R, memories of Salim Kumar arrive not with overwhelming grief but with laughter. Ever since news of the actor's death broke, he found himself returning to moments filled with jokes, mischievous remarks and the kind of absurd humour only Salim Kumar could create. The sadness was real, but every memory seemed to interrupt it with a smile.

"Why am I smiling when I remember someone who has passed away?" Unni wondered.
The answer, he felt, lay in the way Salim Kumar approached life and even death. Over the years, rumours of the actor's death surfaced repeatedly, only to be met with his trademark humour.

"We have killed him many times," Unni wrote. "Each time, Salim returned with a laugh, mocking those who had declared him dead and turning death itself into a joke."

Their friendship stretched back more than three decades to their days at Maharaja's College. In his final year, Unni won an award in a university short story competition. The same year, two others who would later leave a lasting mark on Malayalam cinema were also recognised: Salim Kumar and filmmaker Amal Neerad.

Years later, their paths crossed again after Unni joined Asianet and Salim Kumar began making a name for himself in television and cinema. One of Unni's strongest memories from that period was watching him host Cinemala, directed by Diana Sylvester.

The programme's team was never entirely sure when Salim Kumar would arrive. Diana would spend hours worrying despite his assurances. Then, almost at the last minute, he would walk into the Puliyarakonam studio, light a bidi and effortlessly change the mood.

The anxiety would disappear. In its place came laughter, the same laughter that would later travel into homes across Kerala through television screens. Yet even then, Salim Kumar remained delightfully unpredictable, often disappearing for long stretches after shoots armed with an endless supply of excuses.

Years later, the two collaborated professionally on Bridge, Anwar Rasheed's segment in Kerala Cafe. Unni wrote the film, while Salim Kumar delivered a performance he would later describe as one of the finest of his career.

One memory from the shoot stayed with the writer. A long, emotionally charged scene required Salim Kumar's character to walk away after leaving his mother at a theatre. The shot took around 15 takes and filming continued until nearly 4 am.

Later that day, while waiting to see a doctor at the General Hospital in Thiruvananthapuram, Unni received a call from the actor.
"It was such a long shot," Salim Kumar joked. "I had to walk all the way from the theatre to the gate. By the time I got there, I'd used up all my acting."

The remark left Unni laughing in the middle of the hospital, momentarily forgetting where he was. Looking back, he felt that was Salim Kumar's gift: the ability to bring laughter into the most unexpected moments.
Another cherished memory centred on an invitation card. One night, Salim Kumar called and urgently asked Unni to write the text for the invitation to his new house. He did. But when the housewarming took place, Unni stayed away because he had never received an invitation himself.

Salim Kumar's explanation was characteristically unconventional.
"As the one who wrote the card, you have the obligation to come to the house without being invited," he told him.
Despite years of friendship, Unni never actually visited the house.

Today, when he meets and speaks to Salim Kumar's son Chandu on film sets, he often feels the actor's presence nearby. There was even a time he called Salim Kumar to say he planned to visit the house with Chandu. The visit, however, never happened.