The eulogies continue to flow in for Indian film actor Dharmendra, who passed away a month ago at the age of 89. It was a loss felt by aficionados of Hindi films everywhere. But perhaps we from that fraternity can all take comfort in the fact that the original ‘he-man’ of Indian cinema lived long enough to experience the golden jubilee year of Sholay, arguably the biggest Bollywood blockbuster ever and the film he will always be remembered for.

Much has been and will continue to be written about Sholay, but only those who lived through its heyday will have experienced what a phenomenon it was. Records were broken aplenty as the film’s characters became household names. It even spawned a whole new business opportunity in the music industry—the sale of vinyl LPs and cassettes of just the movie dialogue. It was all the rage in India, and even in Nepal you could traipse through entire neighbourhoods miming the film’s dialogues as they blared from shop after shop. The film became a huge hit even though it was hyped as a 70 mm production, and most of India, and certainly all of Nepal, had to make do with watching it on regular 35 mm screens.

The one place one could not watch Sholay, though, was Kathmandu, since Dharmendra’s films were never screened in the capital. That was for the simple yet still-to-be verified fact that the actor had said something about Nepal or Nepalis. From all accounts since his death, it appears that Dharmendra was what you might call a genuinely nice guy. There have been countless attestations to his warmth as a human being and his humility despite his stardom. Hence, it is all the more mystifying why he had generated so much animosity in Kathmandu.

Along with Dharmendra, there was also Nanda, another Indian actor, whose films were out of bounds in Kathmandu for fear, as the rumour went, that the offending theatre would be burnt down by angry mobs. That had been the case ever since I can remember, and that means going back to at least the early 1970s. As to why the duo had been declared personae non gratae by the valley’s movie halls, I have never received any concrete answer except for some vague allusion to both Dharmendra and Nanda having insulted Nepal/Nepalis at some stage in their career. Since the two of them had paired up in just two films (in 1964 and 1965), the said affront likely dates from that period as well, but, of course, nothing can be said with any certainty.

Hearsay and rumours

At a time when forms of communication were quite primitive in Nepal, and hearsay surely ruled the roost, we can never be sure if anything had even been said. After all, we do have a terrible record of getting all worked up when it comes to India and Indians saying or doing things that somehow hurt our national sensibility. Consider the infamous ‘Hritik Roshan Riots’ of 2000 over an apparent non-statement by Hindi film actor Hritik Roshan that he despised Nepal and Nepalis. The incongruity of anyone in their right mind saying anything like that did not prevent angry crowds from demonstrating against India and Indians and, for good measure, engaging in some vandalism as well. The rioters attacked anyone who ‘looked’ Indian, and that meant Madheshis (as well as dark-skinned Pahadis) were also targeted.

I still remember passing by the rather unfortunate spectacle of a silent rally taken out in its aftermath by Madheshis in Kathmandu, with placards proclaiming the simple fact: Madheshis are also Nepalis. The impact of that episode on the Madheshi psyche was justifiably exemplified in an interview by CK Raut, the secession-turned-mainstream Madheshi leader: “Prior to the Hrithik Roshan scandal in December 2000, I used to consider myself a true Nepali. That incident turned me into a Madhesi… I was an engineering student in Kathmandu and was staying there during my winter vacation. I observed it first hand; saw Madhesis severely beaten. Houses of Madhesis were burnt. I was a victim from my own close friends. That incident actually forced me to look at myself and search for my identity and nationality.”

A more recent example of an Indian movie generating heat in Nepal is from 2023, when the Hindi fictional film, Adipurush, was pulled from theatres in Kathmandu and Pokhara. The mayors of the two cities decided to take exception to the film’s reference to Janaki (supposedly the Hindu mythological figure, Sita) as a ‘daughter of India’ as opposed to, in the minds of the two city fathers, a ‘daughter of Nepal’ from Janakpur. It did not occur to either worthy that both characterisations are as meaningless as claiming that Muhammad was a ‘son of Saudi Arabia’, Jesus a ‘son of Israel’, or Buddha a ‘son of Nepal’.

Love and hate

We certainly have not seen or heard the last of real or perceived slights like the above. The fact of the matter is India and Indians will continue to play an outsized role in our lives and therein lies the irony of our love-hate relationship with our southern neighbour. Former prime minister KP Oli likes to brand himself the ultimate anti-Indian nationalist of Nepal. He even goes around taking credit for having reclaimed Nepali territory from India—at least cartographically—but when push comes to shove, he does chicken out. The Gen Z movement may have put paid to Oli’s desire to embark on an official tour to India, but despite his rhetoric to the contrary, it had long been clear that he was quite desperate to receive New Delhi’s support in person.

On the subject of Indian approval, I am reminded of an incident from a while back. After writer Manjushree Thapa had written her first novel, The Tutor of History (2001), an event to mark its release was held in Kathmandu. The chief guest was Sher Bahadur Deuba, prime minister, who in typical fashion arrived late and had to be ushered straight to the dais. Already seated there were two gentlemen. Deuba warmly greeted the one who ‘looked’ like an Indian and was an Indian while dispensing barely a nod to the one who ‘looked’ Nepali but was also an Indian. The first was Thapa’s editor at her publishing house in India, and the second was the late Indra Bahadur Rai, the towering figure of Nepali literature. Deuba apparently saw an Indian and a Nepali, and he knew exactly who he should curry favour with.