WHEN DHARMENDRA CAME KNOCKING AT OUR DOOR by Raghav Chandra

Most memories are like dreams — intangible, fuzzy, fleeting and subliminal. However, sometimes, they have an exceptional timelessness that causes them to resurface at the mere hint of reflection.

The collective national grief at Dharmendra’s demise impels me to go down memory lane — almost six decades in time.

It was a lazy Sunday in the summer holidays of 1969. I sat with a pile of Enid Blytons in the outer courtyard of our old home on Station Road in Lucknow.

A strapping carefree man, breathless in terylene trousers and bush-shirt as he pushed the half open outer gate and politely asked to meet my father, an official in the Uttar Pradesh’s transport department.

“Uncle, aapka shubh naam (what’s your good name)?” I parroted, as was tutored to do. “Dharmendra,” he replied laconically. A wonderful smile on his face and an enticing voice. I thought he looked like a slimmer, smaller version of John Wayne in the 1962 movie Hatari—my favourite, then.

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An iconic movie directed by Hrishikesh Mukherjee, in Satyakam Dharmendra plays the role of an idealist who marries a rape victim. Though the film tanked at the box office, it was considered one of Dharmendra’s best performances, he won accolades for his acting talent by the critiques. It established him as a serious artiste.

I had not heard of him, but something appealing and elegant about him made me invite him to our drawing room. I asked him to have a seat. I called my dad, who came over and asked this man what was bothering him on a Sunday afternoon.

The visitor said he had to reach Delhi urgently but his car had broken down and the taxi he had booked refused to go unless it got an official permit to travel all the way to Delhi. My dad agreed to help and asked him his profession.

“I act in films,” the man said with a twinkle in his eyes.

My dad looked through him, rather indifferently, even contemptuously. I went to fetch a glass of water and while walking back gently mentioned to my elder sisters that a film actor’s car had broken down and that he was now in our house. Some chap called Dharmendra, I said. “Is he fair and handsome?” they asked. “Yes,” I said.

Within few seconds my sisters had brushed their hair, changed clothes and bounded towards the drawing room. They peeped through the curtains curiously. “It’s Dharmendra!” they shrieked in unison, suddenly jumping with excitement. My mother too came rushing in, afraid her daughters were going to be lured away by some random man.

My sisters describing him as the greatest living thing on earth. The atmospherics changed he being recognized. Dharmendra was cajoled, compelled to have home-cooked vegetarian food on a thali with us. He was showered with many questions about his favourite films and heroines. One sister even sang a popular song from one of his recent films, Aankhen.

While my sisters exchanged notes about their own favourite scenes from his more popular films, he sensed my parents’ old-world conservatism and appealed to them to definitely go and watch his latest film, “Satyakam, Zaroor Dekhiyega (please do watch), my best work, aapko bahut pasand aayegi (you will like it very much),” he said proudly.

An iconic movie directed by Hrishikesh Mukherjee, in Satyakam Dharmendra plays the role of an idealist who marries a rape victim. Though the film tanked at the box office, it was considered one of Dharmendra’s best performances, he won accolades for his acting talent by the critiques. It established him as a serious artiste.

The news of Dharmendra visiting our house spread like wild-fire. Neighbours scaling our walls to catch a glimpse of him as he drove out.

We got to meet and host the majestic Dharmendra, an event that is etched indelibly in the annals of my family history.

Almost five decades later, when posted as Chairman NHAI, I had another cinestar visitor, Hema Malini, Dharmendra’s wife, and the MP from Mathura, who came to seek the early execution of the Delhi-Agra national highway that was unduly delayed by Reliance Infra.

Despite her age she hadn’t aged, her presence was as captivating as was that of her partner Dharmendra fifty years ago.