​When a VCR first arrived in our village, we didn’t even know what a cinema was. The owner would sell tickets in a big hall and play films on a colour TV. He was a friend of my father, so one day he invited us children to watch a movie. Our whole family went. The film was ‘Jai Santoshi Maa’, and I must have been three or four years old.

We children, sat outside, waiting for the earlier show to end. In our minds, it was going to be something like a Ramlila, with villagers acting out the story. But when we entered, we saw only a television set. No stage, no costumes. Even before sitting down, we were already surprised.

Read in Hindi: महज ‘अभिनेता’ नहीं, धर्मेंद्र एक ‘जश्न’ थे...!

Beside the TV, someone was struggling with the VCR. After some confusion, another man shouted, “Bring the other cassette!” That was the first time I heard the word “cassette.” Soon, something flickered on the screen. A man had a stick around another man’s neck and shouted, “नहीं ठाकुर, नहीं, मैं इसे जिंदा नहीं छोडूंगा” (“No, Thakur, no! I will not let him live!”). I was terrified. I clung to my father, begging him to stop the fight. My father looked at me in wonder while the older children laughed. He said, “This is Sholay, Dharmendra’s film! Your name is Dharmendra, too—why are you afraid?” However, I continued to cry until the scene ended.

That cassette was only a test. Soon, ‘Jai Santoshi Maa’ was played, the film we had actually come to see.

You could say the very first actor I ever saw on any screen was Dharmendra. As I grew older, my interest in films grew too. We got a TV at home, and I began to notice Dharmendra’s face in newspapers, especially in advertisements for new releases. By the age of ten, I knew he was a great actor.

Later, when families began renting VCRs for weddings and birthdays, films would play all night. By then, Mithun Chakraborty’s ‘Disco Dancer’ had made us his fans. At one engagement ceremony, we insisted on Mithun’s film, while the older kids demanded Dharmendra’s. After much argument, a compromise was reached: a film with both. And so, ‘Ghulami’ was played.

Anyone who has seen ‘Ghulami’ knows Dharmendra is the central hero, while Mithun enters much later. But by then, Dharmendra’s presence had already taken over. When both appeared together, the atmosphere was electric. The engagement celebration turned into a celebration of ‘Ghulami’. That night, we became Dharmendra’s die-hard fans.

After that, I watched one Dharmendra film after another—good ones and bad ones alike. When broadband, OTT platforms, and big TVs arrived, I rewatched them all. Today, I can say I have seen every single Dharmendra film. Even those where I didn’t care for the hero, but Dharmendra was there—present, and that was enough.

When he fell ill, I told my papaji, he was strong and would return from the hospital many times, just like Dilip Kumar. Once, when fake news of his death aired, my eyes welled up. But when I learned he was safe and had returned home, my faith was restored.

This morning, when faced with the eternal truth of his passing, every moment spent with his image came rushing back. You could say Dharmendra was not just a ‘star’, but a ‘legacy’… not just a ‘hero’, but a ‘story’… not just a ‘personality’, but an ‘era’… not just a ‘superstar’, but a ‘sensation’… not just a ‘hero’, but a ‘faith’… not just an ‘artist’, but an ‘experience’… not just a ‘man’, but a ‘heritage’.