‘Aapka Dharam’: A Pakistani fan’s tribute to Dharmendra, the Punjabi actor who ruled Indian cinema

I first noticed Dharam Ji when I was seven. His role in the 1961 movie “Anpad” was brief but significant. The film starred Mala Sinha as a rich girl who leaves formal education, thinking she won’t need it. She marries Dharam Ji, an avid reader, who is initially disappointed to discover that his wife is uneducated, but she eventually wins his heart. Despite the movie being old and in black and white, both of them seemed to glow in every frame.

Years later, when I read that Dharmendra had been chosen for his first film by legends Guru Dutt and Bimal Roy in a Filmfare Talent contest based on his photos, I wasn’t surprised.

My father, posted in Balochistan at the time, brought home a dish antenna riddled with holes from rocket fire exchanged between Pashtun and Baloch groups in Chaman. He had bought it because stepping out after office hours had become too dangerous. He spent his night watching Anu Kapoor’s Antakshiri. When it came to us in its ravaged condition, I was the only family member who made the most of it. My twin sibling had recently passed away, and in those grief-stricken months, I was left to my own devices.

Earlier, I had to rely on my uncle’s VCR, which could only be accessed when he was in office, and I had trouble operating it.

With the new antenna, Zee Cinema and Zee Gold became my new home. I memorised “Yadoon Ki Barat”, “Amar Akbar Anthony” and “Seeta Aur Geeta”. I didn’t discriminate between colour and black-and-white movies. How could a seven-year-old get bored if images kept moving on TV?

“Sholay” was shown on special occasions like Eid or New Year, but I eventually became an expert on that too.

I admired Dharmendra most in his gentler appearances. His support to “Anupama” as a writer and teacher, Ashok. It was shot in a hill station which reminded my grandfather of his childhood visits to Dalhousie. Yes, my Bollywood addiction was contagious and my grandparents succumbed soon after. I loved Dharam Ji’s understated presence in Guddi, where he is worshipped as a star but emerges as a human. His kind and generous persona in Seeta Aur Geeta, where he is poor but embodies the wisdom of a man living on the edge. His nuanced performance as Professor Parimal Tripathi in Chupke Chupke, where he is simultaneously boring but likable. And above all, his friendship with Jai in Sholay that has several comic sequences, most of them when Dharam Ji is drunk. My favourite are the ones in jail where they evade the iconic jailer Asrani and the one on the water tanki where Veeru claims his love for Basanti in front of the whole village. He was so comfortable in his skin, that he performed with iconic women stars like Meena Kumari, Nutan and Sharmila Tagore but maintained his gravitas. He never flinched and left a mark in Anpadh, Anupama, Guddi and Seeta Aur Geeta despite them being women-centric films.

Dharam Ji had the good fortune of having iconic songs picturized on him. This discography will lend his legacy even more longevity. From “Aap ki nazron ne samjha pyar ke qabil mujhe to “Pal pal dil ke pass tum rehti hu” and “Dreamgirl” - this music will never die.

Punjab has fuelled Indian cinema’s rise by lending it talent. May it be the Kapoors, Chopras, Deols, Kumars or Khannas – Punjabis have had a massive impact on Bollywood.

However, Dharam Ji was one of the last of the stars who grew up before 1947. He embodied Punjab’s syncretic culture and diverse heritage. He was the son of a school master who grew up in Sahnewal, near Ludhiana. In one of the interviews he gave actor Vinay Pathak, he reminisces about his Master Ghulam Rasool, whom he hugged in 1947 and begged not to leave.

He also speaks of his friend Akram whom he could never meet after the partition. The first train he took to Bombay was the Frontier Mail – which used to run from Peshawar to “City of Dreams” before partition. Now the train stops at Firozpur, one of the border towns of Punjab, but still carries the same name.

He left Punjab but Punjab never left him. He would host Punjabis struggling for work in Bollywood at his home. He would treat his villagers too if they visited. And he started farming on his farmhouse in Lonavala near Mumbai, an activity which perhaps harkened back to his village childhood. I know this because I followed his Instagram reels.

From his TV conversations and later film appearances like Rocky Aur Rani ki Prem Kahani, one could never tell that this is one of the celebrated actors of India. His unassuming nature accentuated his appeal. In the later years, Dharam Ji’s humility became evident. He would often introduce younger actors like Ajay Devgan and Salman Khan as his sons. He would make light of his drinking and second marriage to Hema Malini. And embellish his conversations with Urdu verses, a language he studied in school and even wrote poetry in. This was like a parting gift of his pre-partition childhood. Had it not been for 1947, Dharam Ji could have moved to Lahore, which was the centre of Punjabi cinema. He would have studied at Government College Lahore and never lost touch with his childhood friend Akram. But Punjab was divided, and Dharamendra went on to shine on the largest screens in Bombay instead, making several generations of Indians and Pakistanis fall in love with him. From Dharmendra of Punjab, he became “apka Dharam.”