Never forgot his roots’: Punjab villagers recall Dharmendra’s ‘late-night’ visits home

By _shalini oraon

_ Dharmendra’s connection to his ancestral village.

—

The Silver Screen Star and His Soil: How Dharmendra Never Forgot His Punjab Roots

In the glittering universe of Bollywood, where stardom often creates an insurmountable distance from reality, the story of Dharmendra is a refreshing anomaly. For decades, he has been the “He-Man” of Indian cinema, the quintessential “Garam Dharam” whose on-screen persona was built on rugged action and stoic silence. Yet, behind this larger-than-life image lies a man whose heart has remained steadfastly tied to the soil of his ancestral village in Punjab. In the quiet lanes of Sahnewal, near Ludhiana, the legend of Dharmendra is not just about film posters and box office numbers; it is a living, breathing narrative of a son who never forgot his way home.

The village of Sahnewal holds the foundational stones of Dharmendra’s identity. He was born Dharam Singh Deol in 1935 into a simple, land-owning Jatt Sikh family. His father, Kewal Kishan Singh Deol, was a school teacher, grounding the future star in the values of humility and education long before the arc lights found him. The family’s haveli, a modest structure compared to the Mumbai mansions he would later inhabit, stands as a silent testament to his origins. It was from here that a young, ambitious Dharam Singh left for Bombay, winning a film contract through a talent competition, a journey that sounds like a Bollywood script in itself.

Despite the meteoric rise to fame, the allure of Punjab—the scent of the wheat fields, the sound of the gurdwara’s Gurbani, the taste of fresh, home-made makki di roti and sarson da saag—remained an irresistible pull. While other stars built fortresses around their privacy, Dharmendra built a bridge back to his village. And his visits were anything but the typical, scheduled celebrity appearances.

The most cherished memories among the older residents of Sahnewal are of his “late-night” visits. There were no press releases, no fanfare, and no security detail. Often, after a hectic shooting schedule or during a fleeting break, he would simply drive down from Delhi or arrive by car, reaching the village under the cloak of darkness. The stillness of the night would be broken not by paparazzi, but by the quiet hum of his vehicle, a sound that soon became familiar.

He would head straight to the family home. The gates would open, and the star would vanish, replaced by Dharam Singh, the son of the village. Neighbors would recall seeing him sit on a charpai (a traditional woven cot) in the courtyard, sipping tea, often engaging in long, heartfelt conversations with his cousins and childhood friends. These were not formal interactions but intimate gatherings where filmi gossip was replaced by news of the latest harvest, family weddings, and the well-being of the village elders. He was not an actor playing a part; he was a man returning to his essence.

“He never came with the air of a big star,” recalls an elderly resident, his voice filled with warmth. “He would sit with us as if he had never left. He’d ask about our land, our children, and our problems. In those moments, we didn’t see Dharmendra the actor; we saw our Dharam, who still remembered every lane and every face.”

This connection was not merely sentimental; it was profoundly practical and generous. The stories of his philanthropy are woven into the very fabric of Sahnewal and the surrounding areas. He was known to have quietly funded the education of countless children from underprivileged families, believing it to be the most potent tool for empowerment. He contributed significantly to the local gurdwaras and temples, ensuring their maintenance and the smooth functioning of the langar (community kitchen).

His most notable contribution, perhaps one that reflects his personal journey, is the Dharmendra Sports College. Understanding the energy and potential of rural youth, he envisioned an institution that would channel their vigor into discipline and excellence in sports. The college stands as a physical manifestation of his belief in giving back, providing state-of-the-art facilities to young athletes who might otherwise never get the opportunity. For the villagers, this isn’t just a building; it is a symbol of their son’s enduring love and his desire to uplift his community.

This deep-rooted connection to his heritage is a legacy he has visibly passed on to his sons, Sunny and Bobby Deol. Both superstars in their own right, they often speak of their father’s insistence on keeping them grounded in their Punjabi culture. Visits to the village were a mandatory part of their upbringing. They were taught to respect the land, the language, and the people. Today, when Sunny Deol, now an MP, speaks with fervor about national pride and Punjabi identity, or when Bobby Deol expresses his simple love for the countryside, the echoes of their father’s values are unmistakable.

In an industry where reinvention is the key to survival and the past is often a forgotten prologue, Dharmendra’s unwavering bond with Sahnewal is a powerful narrative. It speaks of a man who successfully navigated the dizzying heights of fame without losing his balance. The village is his anchor, the source of the authenticity that millions see in his eyes, even when he is playing a tough action hero or a poignant lover.

The image of Dharmendra on a charpai under a starlit Punjab sky, far from the madding crowd of Mumbai, is perhaps the truest portrait of the man. It is a reminder that while stardom is achieved on the silver screen, character is forged in the soil of one’s roots. And in the quiet, proud memories of Sahnewal’s residents, Dharmendra has achieved his greatest role: that of a devoted son, who, no matter how late the hour, always found his way home.