As the curtain falls on a luminous life, Indian cinema bids farewell to Dharmendra — the everyman hero whose warmth, humility and charm defined generations of moviegoers.
Veteran actor Dharmendra, one of Hindi cinema’s most loved actor, has passed away. He would have turned 90 on December 8. His demise marks the end of an era, of an innocence and charisma that once defined Hindi films and helped shape the golden age of romance and action on screen.
Born in Nasrali village near Ludhiana in Punjab, Dharmendra’s journey to stardom was the stuff of cinematic legend. From a modest background, he arrived in Mumbai (then Bombay) in pursuit of a dream, winning a Filmfare talent contest in the late 1950s that offered him a toehold in the film industry. His early years were filled with struggle and anonymity; he once travelled from his home to Mumbai’s suburban Andheri station and then on to a cinema hall for the premiere of his debut film, Dil Bhi Tera Hum Bhi Tere (1960) — only to find that no one recognised him in the crowd.
But recognition came soon enough. With Phool Aur Patthar (1966), Dharmendra emerged as a new kind of Hindi film hero — rugged yet sensitive, masculine but never coarse. The film not only made him a star but also established him as a versatile performer capable of embodying both strength and tenderness. His brooding eyes, athletic physique and disarming smile became emblematic of an era in which romance and action could coexist in a single frame.
Over the next two decades, Dharmendra became one of the most bankable and prolific actors in Indian cinema, appearing in a remarkable range of films — Anupama, Bandini, Satyakam, Sholay, Chupke Chupke, Yaadon Ki Baaraat, Dream Girl and Dost, among countless others. Whether as the intense lover, the upright soldier, the comic foil, or the friend in arms, he brought to each role an unmistakable authenticity.
Perhaps no screen pairing of the time captured the audience’s imagination quite like that of Dharmendra and Hema Malini. Together they starred in 27 films, including a string of 11 consecutive hits between 1970 and 1976. Their chemistry — sparkling, playful and palpably real — was mirrored off-screen as well, when they married in 1980. The union, often described as one of Hindi cinema’s great love stories, added to the legend of the man long hailed as its “perennial lover.”
Dharmendra’s range as an actor was vast. In Satyakam (1969), he gave one of Hindi cinema’s most underappreciated performances — a deeply moral man crushed by a corrupt world. In Hrishikesh Mukherjee’s Chupke Chupke (1975), he displayed a gift for subtle comedy that few leading men of his generation could match. In Sholay (1975), as the jovial Veeru, he became a national icon, delivering lines that would echo in Indian popular culture for decades.
What made Dharmendra so enduring was not merely his good looks or screen presence, but his relatability. He represented a certain decency and rootedness — the small-town boy who never forgot his origins. “Yeh sab mere mitti ki den hai,” he once said, reflecting on his success. “I still believe in giving love. Even I cannot change my nature, and whatever my parents and my soil have taught me.” That humility remained intact through six decades in the limelight.
Even in later years, as his sons Sunny and Bobby Deol followed him into films, Dharmendra continued to act, often in roles that showed his willingness to laugh at himself or to lend gravitas to ensemble casts. His cameo appearances, warm public persona, and occasional poetry shared on social media kept him connected to generations of fans.
Dharmendra’s appeal lay in the paradox he embodied — the “He-Man” of Hindi cinema who also wept, loved deeply, and believed in goodness. He could lift a villain by the collar one moment and break into an impish smile the next. For millions of Indians, he represented a gentler masculinity — one that valued loyalty, laughter and love.
In an interview with Seniors Today, Dharmendra described his life as “a beautiful struggle,” saying he looked back “with pleasure and happiness.” Those words ring with poignancy now. His was indeed a beautiful struggle — from the dusty lanes of Punjab to the silver screens of Bombay, from anonymity to adoration.
As the curtain falls on a remarkable life and career, Indian cinema bids farewell to one of its most human stars. Dharmendra was never larger than life; rather, he made life itself seem larger, richer and more full of feeling.
He leaves behind an unparalleled legacy — of films that entertained, of love stories that linger, of an image that defined a generation’s idea of a hero. For those who grew up watching him woo, fight, dance and smile, the loss feels deeply personal. And for younger audiences discovering him anew, Dharmendra remains, as ever, the eternal romantic — a symbol of warmth, decency and the quiet strength of a man who never stopped believing in love.
