Dharmendra: Legends Never Die
There are some faces in cinema that feel as though they’ve always been with us— faces we grew up with, argued about, admired, and turned to whenever life needed a bit of comfort. Dharmendra was one such presence. My earliest memory of Dharmendra goes back to the mid-80s, during the VCR era. In my school days in Kishtwar, we had two video halls—Nadeem and Sangam—and for many of us, the idea of a “hero” began and ended with Dharmendra. Films like Hukumat, Ghulami, Elaan-e-Jang, Vardi, and Loha played endlessly, and school kids like me would sit on crammed coir mats before the screen, our eyes wide with wonder as the Macho Man of Hindi cinema stamped himself onto our imagination.
For more than four decades that followed, he wasn’t just a star on a poster or a name in the opening credits; he became part of my emotional landscape. His passing leaves behind not only a silence but a deep sense of longing—of a time when Indian cinema felt simpler, warmer.
Born Dharam Singh Deol in Sahnewal, Punjab, he arrived in Mumbai carrying little more than belief and a stubborn dream. Those who knew him often said he was exactly as he appeared—straightforward, good-natured, and relentless in his work ethic. The early years were slow, even harsh, but he chipped away steadily, film after film, until he found his place.
Before he became the celebrated “He-Man” of Hindi cinema, Dharmendra was known for performances rooted in gentleness. Bandini, Anpadh, and Dost revealed an actor who could speak volumes without raising his voice. His performance in Satyakam, is still spoken of with reverence. It was a role that demanded honesty, and honesty is what he gave. Many still regard it as his finest performance, the moment the depth behind the handsome face became impossible to ignore. Even in the decades dominated by Rajesh Khanna and Amitabh Bachchan, he held his ground and carved a niche entirely his own.
The 1970s, however, were the decade when Dharmendra truly became the nation’s favorite. At a time of larger-than-life heroes, he brought a rare mix of strength and softness. As Veeru in Sholay, he created a character etched permanently into India’s cultural memory. His comic timing in Chupke Chupke remains unmatched; even today. It is hard to watch the film without smiling at his infectious ease. Films like Phool Aur Patthar, Pratigya, and Mera Gaon Mera Desh showcased his remarkable range—action, comedy, romance - he carried all of it with disarming naturalness.
It may surprise some to recall that the trend of the “shirtless hero” began with Dharmendra in Phool Aur Patthar—long before it became a badge for the stars of the ’90s and 2000s. The original Greek God of Hindi cinema, Dharmendra was admired to such an extent that legendary actor Dilip Kumar once said that if he were to be reborn as an actor, he would want to be born in Dharmendra’s body.
He also fronted ambitious projects like Ali Baba Aur Chalis Chor and Shalimar, rare international collaborations of the time, proving how far ahead of the curve he often was. In multi-starrers like The Burning Train, Dharam Veer, Yaadon Ki Baraat, and of course Sholay, he always managed to shine on his own terms.
The songs picturised on him—Pal Pal Dil Ke Paas, Yeh Dosti, Jatt Yamla Pagla Deewana, Dream Girl, Abhi Na Jao Chhod Kar, Hum Bewafa Hargiz na the—have long outlived generations, becoming part of the collective memory of Hindi cinema lovers.
To look back at Dharmendra’s journey is to look back at a gentler time in Indian cinema, when stories were told with heart and heroes were human. His departure leaves behind an ache—the kind you feel when someone familiar, someone who unknowingly walked alongside your growing years, is suddenly gone.
Dharmendra’s films will continue to live, and so will the affection he inspired. Some stars fade; others stay with us. Dharam ji belongs to the latter. That is how he will be remembered—fondly, gratefully, and always.
