Dilip Kumar: The ‘Saudagar’ of dignity
Dry fruits have a tinge of melancholy to them: After all, they are past their prime, and their utility come from induced longevity. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that Muhammad Yusuf Khan alias Dilip Kumar opted out of cinema, when the going was good. After all, Yusuf Khan made a living selling dry fruits in Pune.
Hadn’t it been for Devika Rani, the yesteryear actress, Yusuf Khan would have found himself in the dreary world of dry fruits and perhaps the nostalgia of the large orchards his family owned in Peshawar.
Independent India made Yusuf Khan, THE Dilip Kumar. His first film in 1944, ‘Jwar Bhata,’ was a flop. ‘Jugnu’ in 1947 established his acting career and Raj Kapoor’s ‘Andaz’ in 1949 made him a star. ‘Deedar’, ‘Amar’, ‘Devdas’ and ‘Madhumati’ made him the ‘tragedy king.’
But he was a king who knew where to draw the line. He was the royal persona of Bollywood, who had the finest of abilities to look inward.
He was the rare breed of nobility — hardly found in today’s Bollywood (forgive, the generalisation) — who would shoulder responsibility for failures, and recoil into his own world than impose his views or aspirations on others to further his ego.
Dileep Kumar was a gentleman, a tribe largely lost to Indian cinema.
It’s often joked that ‘Lifetime Achievement Award’ is a one-way ticket given to actors, whom the public wants to see retired. Lifetime Achievement Awards could therefore also be called ‘Aging Gracefully Awards’ and if one doesn’t take the cue, he better be prepared for tougher scrutiny by the public.
For a man who could easily withdraw from the arc lights of Bollywood for apparently no reason other than bad box-office performance or simple reluctance, Dilip Kumar continued to be revered (despite controversies of the sort that could prompt lesser actors to take refuge on social media and cry hoarse) because he knew when to quit and when not to.
He stood up to Bal Thackeray and refused to relinquish the civilian honour bestowed upon him by Pakistan.
He had his principles to support his moral ground. He had said: “I have worked for the poor, I have worked for many years to bridge the cultural and communal gaps between India and Pakistan. Politics and religion have created these boundaries. I have striven to bring the two people together in whatever way I could.”
That the man, who was neither born nor brought up in Mumbai, could still become the ‘Sheriff of Bombay’ also tells us of the spirit of solidarity that once existed in the cosmopolitan city.
Today, fissures abound, and perhaps, Dilip Kumar went to his deathbed, a pained man.
But beyond politics and the nexuses that have become part of Bollywood rests the deep and continued relevance of Dilip Kumar.
He is the thespian, the legend… and to date, his tragic-hero take in ‘Devdas’ remains unparalleled.
He didn’t need to quiver his lips and bite his teeth; he didn’t have to contort his facial muscles, taxing and tearing them apart in Herculean effort, like we saw a superstar do.
All he needed was to look into the camera, and pathos flew, emotions bonded, and we saw the wounded heart the actor wanted to portray.
He had the gravitas that came from self-respect; he was humane, that came from a struggled past; he cared… and that came from a good heart.
He loved — on-screen and off. He lost too — on-screen and off.
But in loving or losing, falling or winning, Dilip Kumar never let go the essential dignity — that differentiates between good and bad.
Yusuf Khan was a good man. Dilip Kumar was a good actor.
Bollywood had probably learned to miss Dilip Kumar.
But for countless others, whose life was touched or changed by Yusuf Khan, the void will be painful, extremely.
