John Howard, Australia's former prime minister, once called Donald Bradman “the greatest living Australian.” He was inspired not just by the cricketer's unmatchable feats but “by the quality of the man himself.” Many a batsman have fancied themselves to be the new Bradman. All have fallen short. All are destined to do so. The Don defined the very art of batting. So too The Thespian has spawned an entire genre of acting. He has mesmerised three generations of cine-goers. Women have drooled over him, men have stood transfixed. Constant has been the passion for his metier. Dubbed the Tragedy King for his vivid portrayal of such roles, he had to seek therapy so as to not get consumed. All-time classics such as Devdas and Mughal-i-Azam firmly ensconced him at the top of Indian cinema for decades.

Copycat actors emerged to grab his mantle in the '70s once he started receding from public exposure. Of these, only two, Amitabh Bachchan and Shah Rukh Khan, have been able to wear the crown of superstar long enough like him. Both unabashedly partaked of the Dilip Kumar School of Acting, parlaying forgery into enduring success. None of them denies it. Imitation, after all, is the best form of flattery. The legend of Kumar endures, witnessing the success of the colourised version of Mughal-i-Azam re-released in 2004. An original Picasso is worth millions, a counterfeit, no matter how lookalike, virtually nothing.

For all its economic progress, India still stands accused of not making world-class products. It is said that the Indian Institute of Technology engineer continues to be the country's finest export. Bollywood's contribution in furthering India's image abroad is often overlooked, perhaps because it is felt that it is only the Indian diaspora that consumes its products. But how is it that in the four corners of the globe — be it Iran or Kenya, Russia or China — if people are familiar with any contemporary Indian it is most likely to be Amitabh Bachchan or Shah Rukh Khan? Such is the power of the brand that Dilip Kumar has helped create.

As in reel life, where Kumar placed dedication to his craft and loyalty to his peers well above pecuniary gain, so too in real life has he taken up causes dear to him, no matter how unpopular. He has consecrated himself to bettering Indo-Pakistan relations, which he himself has expressed exasperation with, likening them to a slippery slope.

He has taken to resurrecting that melodious symphony of different languages, Urdu, which he believes has come to the point of being orphaned in the land of its birth, India. He has strived to feed the poor, mend the sick and help the riot-hit. He does not tout his humanity, preferring to lead the life of a near-recluse.

For his cinematic and philanthropic accomplishments, Pakistan conferred upon him its highest recognition, the Nishan-i-Imtiaz, making him only the second Indian after former Prime Minister Morarji Desai to be so honoured. Along the way he has shrugged off mindless allegations of being a traitor or at least an enemy sympathiser with the gentility and old-world charm characteristic of his generation and upbringing.

Today's Bollywood actors are principally measured by how much money they make as the unbridled pursuit of wealth has become the mantra of new-age India. With the passing away of many of Kumar's contemporaries, very few can relate to him. A Bharat Ratna for him will preserve his timeless appeal. Far from being an honour for him, it will be a celebration of his life and all that he represents. That art is greater than lucre. That commitment to one's country does not mean hating another. That India still remains a country where the conscience is free and the tongue able to utter native tones. His is an example to be set aloft for young and future generations.

The Indian government waited too long to give the Bharat Ratna to another doyen of Indian cinema, the late film-maker Satyajit Ray. Only on his deathbed did he receive it and only after he had won an Oscar for Lifetime Achievement. Perhaps that is why the auteur valued the golden statuette over his countrymen's accolade. Why then is the Indian government dilly-dallying in paying homage to another great and noble man? The waiting is inexplicable and quite frankly, infuriating. Inconceivable, surely, that Pakistan's equivalent acclaim has something to do with it.