There are stars whose light fades quietly, and there are those whose glow lingers long after they slip beneath the horizon. Dharmendra’s passing on November 24 falls into the latter realm, an extinguishing that feels less like an ending and more like the dimming of a constellation that once guided our diasporic worlds.

For Indo-Caribbean families across Trinidad and Tobago, Guyana, Suriname, and later in the GTA, his movies were not mere entertainment. They were a cultural compass, a bridge to an ancestral India we had never seen, but which we carry in our bones.

Born in 1935 in Nasrali, Punjab, he came from “a small village in Punjab’s Ludhiana district”, as producer Anand Pandit reflected, adding that his “early life in rural Punjab shaped him”. The son of a farmer who witnessed Partition’s ruptures, Dharmendra embodied a humility that resonated deeply with our Indo-Caribbean communities, our histories marked by displacement, punitive plantation labour in the Caribbean, and later migration to Canada.

Pandit’s further observation captures the essence of Dharmendra’s enduring appeal: “When audiences saw strength, warmth, dignity, and emotional honesty on screen, it was not a performance. It was who he genuinely was.” That authenticity made him a fixture in the emotional architecture of our diasporic childhood.

It is arguable that he was the most favourite actor for Indo-Guyanese and Indo-Trinidadians. He became a familiar presence, a staple, in households where his films were replayed countless times, the steadfast companion through decades of social transformation.

His versatility made such devotion inevitable. After debuting in Dil Bhi Tera Hum Bhi Tere (1960), Dharmendra went on to portray, and pioneer, a gifted actor’s range of depth and gentleness. His romantic era established him as a national heart throb, even after he cemented his status as an action icon. But for many in our diaspora, it was his Veeru in Sholay, playful, flawed, and unforgettable, that will be eternally recalled in the years ahead.

He also redefined cinematic romance. Pandit described his partnership with Hema Malini as one marked by “grace, restraint, and a quiet poetry”, a combination that elevated the emotional vocabulary of Bollywood and our diaspora.

That cinematic pairing became a moral and aesthetic anchor for our diaspora communities navigating new worlds for its sincerity; for its dignified articulation of love that felt like solid ground amid migration’s uncertainties. Mumtaz, recalling their collaborations, wrote simply and tenderly, “Dharam Ji, you were and you are always with us! May you rest in peace.”

His humanity extended far beyond the screen. In a 2007 interview with Lehren Retro, Dharmendra spoke candidly about his struggle with alcohol: “I used to drink heavily, but I have realised that it doesn’t go with me… it’s the worst thing.” He added, “Now, when I have left drinking, I feel like I enjoy more than what I used to do.”

That humanising self-awareness, coupled with the confession that he tested his resolve “on that plane to LA”, revealed a man whose strength included a vulnerability we know and live, yet still thrive as a diaspora.

When news of his passing spread, Bollywood turned sombre; and that grief echoed across the Caribbean and the here in the GTA. We recalled how his films travelled with us in the second migration across the kala pani in suitcases as VHS tapes, to later illuminate our living rooms in Toronto, Brampton, Malton, Scarborough.

Our travelling with his movies meant Dharmendra was more than an actor; he was continuity, carrying forward the emotional and cultural threads that migration often frays; that we were keeping alive the ties that bind.

Dharmendra’s light has dimmed, but the vastness of his constellation remains. We continue to watch his movies in our homes, his roles offering dignity and tenderness, his memory bridging worlds across India, the Caribbean, and Canada, with the same quiet strength that defined him.

In our mourning, we honour the cultural inheritance he gifted to us: a lifelong reminder that even across dark seas, some stars never stop shining and showing us the way.