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A Sunday Evening With Dharmendra And His Passion, Poetry

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The first time I met the shy poet who did not know that he had written some very sensitive poetry and said that he was only making an attempt to try out a different art which he knew was very difficult because he also knew that writing poetry was not a gift everyone was blessed with, that shy poet was the superstar for all time, Dharmendra, I had liked his poem so much that I asked him to keep writing…….
I next met the same poet in his starry bangalow  and saw that he had taken me seriously ( or taken himself seriously and had taken the writing poetry with all the dedication and sincerity
He had very good company in his younger brother, Ajit Singh Deol ( the father of Abhay Deol ) who wrote some great poetry that kept what he wrote to himself or at the most exchanged it with his brother, Dharam Paaji ( Ajit Singh who was a not so successful actor, died some time ago ) and Dharam ji seemed to have lost touch with poetry and was spending more time on his farm house in Lonawala from where he worked like a true farmer, like the son of the soil he always wanted to be
It was Sunday, November 10 when I met him in his Juhu house where he the poet in him was in full flow
For more than two hours it was just Dharmendra, the poet ruling the waves and time which kept passing and made his poetry richer
Dharmendra who believes that Urdu is the best language to discuss the most beautiful and even the most difficult and painful emotions, also has been writing all his poetry in Urdu which is a language which is very dear to his heart
In the two hours that I and my young friends from London, who are singers and composers  Raja Kaasheff & Rubayyat Jahan and the veteran PR man and filmaker who has now taken to writing and has got his first book, ” Yaadein Zara Zara ” published, kept listening to the voice lived by millions for more than fifty years as he decided one poem after another, one poem more intense and lovable than the other, one poem more sensitive than the other and as he kept us zapped with his flaw of thoughts, I wondered if this was the same man we called Garam Dharam
He seemed to have a poem on every thought, every occasion, every incident that had left a deep mark on his heart and soul, he had a poem he had written when he was fascinated be his idol, Dilip Kumar and asked himself every morning whether he could be at least some like Dilip Kumar, he had poems written about the time he spent during his struggling days in Bombay, and he had written poems about endless love, limitless bravery and courage which have been his guiding lights, he had written about the common man, the farmer and the ” war ” between the rich and the poor and his love for his motherland
I specially liked a poem which he written after he had visited the Churchgate station in Bombay after years and after long gap in dear relationship and how Churchgate and the Eros Cinema and the surrounding areas welcomed him as their long lost friend
He could have gone on and on because he was now an ambassador of good poetry and good poetry can never easily come to an end
The sun was setting, at any other time in the past it would be his time to fall for his love for many years, alcohol, bug now his evenings were spent with some old friends playing a game of cards and then listen to some news and some vintage music and then to bed to rise early and excercise at the gym inside in compound, sometimes with one of his sons, Sunny who is now an MP, Bobby who made a dashing entry in a thick beard while his father was still deep well of poetry and all he could get from his father was a ruffle of his hair
And just before the maha Dharam Kavita Samelan was to get over, his man brought him a rose which he said a women brought for him every Sunday whether he was at home or not, the strong Dharam had a few drops of tears in his eyes as he kissed the rose and said it was the love of such billions down the years that had made him the Dharam he was. The final lines were a description of himself in his own words. He had decided this poem on KBC with Amitabh Bachchan sitting in front of him and the scene and what he said about himself is still going viral
Mahaan Maa Ki Mamta Azeem Baap Ki Shafqat Ka Azeem – o – Shaan Ik Ehsaan Hoon Main,
Insaniyaat Ka Pujaari, Choton Ka Laad Pyar Baro Ka Adar Samaan Hoon Main,
Duniya Saara Ban Jaye Ik Kunmba
Ekta Ki Hasartoon Ka Armaan Hoon Main,
Neyki Meri Shakti Hai
Kisi Vadd Se Darta Nahin Main,
Aisa Adam Samaan Hoon Main,
Mohabbat Hai Khuda Aur Khuda Hai Mohabbat Khuda Ki Mohabbat Ka Ik Farmaan Hoon Main,
Pyar Mohabbat Duayein Aapki
Sechti Hain Jazbaat Ko Mere
Isileye Aaj Bhi Jawan Hoon Main,
Khata Agar Hojaye Baksh Dena Yaaron Ghaltiyoon Ka Putla Aakhir Ik Insaan Hoon Main
I was trying to find wrinkles on the face of the eighty four year old most handsome actor of Indian Cinema and in those very few wrinkles, I could read a thousand different stories of the times then, now and forever.


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Tags: Bollywood, Bollywood News, Bollywood Updates, Television, Telly News, Dharmendra, Poetry,  Dilip Kumar, Ajit Deol

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