The early years of Dilip Kumar, born Muhammad Yusuf Khan, are marked by a remarkably sensitive take on masculinity—one that is charming, feels deeply, exhibits love and vulnerability, tires of failures, is afraid and isn’t afraid to accept it. He cries in loneliness, is broken in his sorrows, and his anguish permeates through the screen to reach audiences in a way that never has since. Soft expressive eyes, an even softer gaze, a voice laced with emotion, depth and fragility, Dilip Kumar’s masculinity was fearlessly sensitive, bravely restrained. Details in his portrayals, subtle facial movements, control over body language, languid yet statuesque appearances have cemented Dilip Kumar as an actor of specifics, sensitivity and softness. With a voice that was mostly measured and controlled—especially in his early work, before the tropes of toxic masculinity cast him in roles of the proverbial patriarch—and dialogue that used the beautiful elasticity of language to convey more than just meaning, Kumar shaped the contours of the hero for commercial Hindi cinema, that was as human as human can be. He was not the larger than life hero who fought innumerable number of goons to emerge victorious single handedly; neither was he the tall, well-built man, who refused to fall in pain when hit—tropes that would later come to define the ‘hero’ in Hindi films. Kumar was the man who held his own in the face of blatant wrongs and loved with a full heart.