The lights have dimmed on the man whose presence once felt effortless. Dharmendra — Hindi cinema’s original “He-Man," strength tempered with sensitivity — passed away on 24 November 2025, aged 89. With him goes not just an icon, but a particular idea of heroism: unforced, decent, inwardly anchored.

Born Dharam Singh Deol in Punjab, he was already married to Prakash Kaur when he won a talent contest and came to Bombay chasing a dream — to become a star like his idol, Dilip Kumar. If Dilip gave tragedy its refinement, Dharmendra gave physicality its grace. Over 300 films — Sholay to Chupke Chupke, Anupama to Phool Aur Patthar — he brought vulnerability to valour, making masculinity feel human. Built on farm work, restraint and discipline, he resisted the flamboyance the industry often demands. The physique was legendary, but what endured was the emotional musculature: the ability to remain uncomplicatedly good.

Bollywood didn’t invent Dharmendra’s heroism; it witnessed and then structured itself around it.

His debut, Dil Bhi Tera Hum Bhi Tere (1960), arrived without flourish. It was Shola Aur Shabnam the following year that hinted at a new screen presence — sculpted but not aloof. By Phool Aur Patthar (1966), the template had crystallised: moral courage matched with physical certainty. In Anupama, Bandini, and Satyakam, he became proof that strength could carry conscience.

The most defining hand in this transformation came not from mainstream action cinema, but from Bengali filmmakers who saw beyond his exterior. Bimal Roy cast him in Bandini (1963) after a recommendation — not for his face or build, but for instinct. Roy’s precision and aversion to excess shaped Dharmendra’s early sensibility. He would often recall the experience not as an opportunity, but as orientation.

Hrishikesh Mukherjee deepened that trajectory. Their first film together, Anupama (1966), revealed an actor whose authority lay in understatement. Satyakam (1969) — often cited as Mukherjee’s most personal work — offered Dharmendra one of his finest roles, that of a man uncompromised by circumstance. The performance was unadorned, and that was its power.

They continued through Majhli Didi, Guddi, and Chupke Chupke, films where he shifted between resilience and levity without disconnecting from truth. Bengali filmmakers valued emotional rigour and moral centre — Dharmendra, perhaps unexpectedly, carried both.

He once remarked that he “felt like a Bengali." What he meant was that he recognised in their cinema a rhythm he could naturally inhabit — measured, direct, without affectation.

That early training allowed him to move between genres without altering himself. The industry celebrated his build; the filmmakers who shaped him valued his balance.

Dharmendra’s image as Hindi cinema’s indomitable strongman truly crystallised with Phool Aur Patthar (1966). Until then, he had been seen mostly as a serious actor from socially conscious films. But OP Ralhan’s unexpected blockbuster redefined his career and reshaped the idea of screen masculinity. As Shaaka — a hardened man with a conscience — Dharmendra brought a striking balance of power and emotional restraint. His physical presence drew attention, but it was the compassion beneath that surprised audiences.

In one of the film’s most quietly unforgettable scenes, the male body became a symbol of both damage and dignity. Meena Kumari’s widow lies trembling in silence. Dharmendra enters, pauses, and instead of approaching with threat or desire — as........

© News18