‘Aap Ka Dharam’, as he fondly called himself on social media, built a unique identity — the rustic farmer actor from Punjab. A hatta katta Jat more at home on a tractor than in a Mercedes. That was him. The real deal. Authentic and adorable. A man proud of his roots in an industry full of insecure actors, craving for attention by creating a fake aura around themselves. Dharmendra towered over his contemporaries and was Bollywood’s handsomest star. Simply by being himself, he won over everyone he met.
The term ‘Garam Dharam’ was coined by me. There was a natural hotness about him. He projected unbridled virility. Women would throw themselves unabashedly at him, and he would always oblige them with his undivided attention. His good looks and amazing physique made him a babe-magnet, but it was his chivalry that made women feel safe and comfortable in his presence. Dharmendra did not give a lecherous vibe, unlike his more predatory rivals — he didn’t need to! Women fell in droves for his natural charm, and soon a legend grew around his impressive prowess. He was not a cheap, sly, filmi flirt, like the rest. Macho, oh yes! But he was also gallant and protective.
Behind the exaggerated He-Man tag hid the quintessential Dharmendra — gentle, kind, generous, and a hopeless romantic. But one heard stories about the ‘other’ Dharmendra — the volatile star, who, (after a few Patiala pegs), once notoriously chased a female gossip writer from a film magazine, threatening to beat her up for something she had written in her popular column.
Dharmendra. File pic
He was an old-fashioned hero, a matinee idol like Clark Gable. Devastatingly good-looking, hugely successful, and terrific with the ladies. There was nothing even remotely toxic about his persona. This is what made him special. He was like a tall tumbler of frothy Punjabi lassi, best enjoyed in the fields of Punjab — a kisaan who had strayed into the glamorous world of Bollywood.
As the editor, I frequently assigned senior feature writers like the late Ingrid Albuquerque to meet the stars and interview them. We had featured Dharmendra several times for cover stories — he was at his peak, and always obliged. Ingrid and other reporters would come back and regale us with hilarious stories of his disarming behaviour in the dressing room of the set, since there were no vanity vans back then.
I wouldn’t call him media shy, but he was definitely shy! Always a little embarrassed and socially awkward, preferring the company of his buddies, unsure of what he was meant to say during interviews, but happy to pose for publicity pictures and indulge in light-hearted banter. He was unapologetically himself — switching to Punjabi, given half the chance. In an era when there were polished, sophisticated, well-read, articulate, English-speaking heroes like Shashi Kapoor, Rajesh Khanna, Vinod Khanna, and Amitabh Bachchan, Dharmendra created his own space by being unabashedly himself. That he was monumentally successful, giving seven consecutive hits in a single year, was a bonus. What stood out was his genuine modesty and simplicity. As he once stated, all he ever prayed for in those early years was a Fiat car! But God blessed him with abundance….. not that his wealth ever went to his head. He remained unaffected and down to earth, enjoying his life on the sprawling farm, shooting candid reels, and loving life on his own terms.
After his sons Sunny and Bobby Deol forayed into movies, he made the transition from ‘Garam Dharam’, the sex symbol, every woman’s fantasy lover, to a benign ‘Paaji’. And fans clapped at how gracefully he had crossed over. The love for him only grew.