Tuesday, 28 July 2015

episode 208 put on your dancing heart beats



she danced. carefree and wild. he watched. his heart picked her rhythm, her spirit, her every move was echoed somewhere within him. the minutes ticked by, a long interlude where two people connected breaking all barriers. the drums played, the colour flew, she moved, he stood eyes fixed on her, but his heart was beginning to traipse, you could feel it.

magan... immersed. melded. rapt. they danced. she with her being, he in his heart.

the director used the language of pictures and sound and created an unforgettable moment. when all fences and defences set up by the rational thinking dimaag world, helplessly tied to its three dimensions fell.

when the heart only spoke and what it said was the truth. when he had to listen to it because he was no fool. what had been heard clearly one evening when he couldn't forget a kiss, was heard again... dhadkane.

heart beat. 




dil ki dhadkan which had been muffled by the rage of the mind broke free.

the gullak had shattered, the bhang had been drunk, the girl who planned holi in her sleep though she slept on the poolside stone floor, the girl whose head he had to reach out to protect though he believed she was not true not pure, the girl who called him laad governor and gave him i o u notes for rs 300, the girl who chose black for him, she danced.

and his heart leapt at the sight of her.

that was all there was to it.

the dance was what it was all about for me. in most religious traditions, especially the ones more mystical, free spirited dancing is very much a part of worship. with body mind soul we relinquish the mortal, the material and reach out for what cannot die, what is not limited by dimension. and in our surrender and desire to reach, we make it to that point. once you touch that point you are changed in ways you can't always know but you do feel it. it never really goes away. mere nimboo doesn't do the trick.

almost at another plane this meeting of asr and khushi. cute, lovely, sexy, but lots of ecstasy there, more potent than the drug.



she switches glasses and makes him drink.

"ok!" says he abruptly and goes for the glass thinking it is the cannabis free thandai.

gotcha! says her smile. she's done her ramanchi... and fixed his little cheating.

he drinks in one go...

"aap ko kya lagta hai, aap bahut hoshiar hain, agar aap hoshiar hai toh hum usse bhi zyada hoshiar hai..." what do you think, you're very clever, then i am more clever than that. she is dopey, a bit drunk, and madly cute, he is melting. that touch of her colour still all over him. the touch of his perhaps making her feel things she'd felt a while back when all was well and he brought bangles for her.

he realises he's been had.

"kya hua, bolti band ho gayi?" what happened, cat got your tongue? and mad hatter says no prob, i'll say the words from you... "what the what the what the what the"... and she charges around among the merrymakers, a free spirit a fabulous sanka devi...




hic goes the laad governor.

she dances in gay abandon... unaware of the whole world the girl who loves to dance.

he comes looking for her and watches her from behind his sister and nani... dil ki baat in his eyes already.

she flails her arms and sways to the beat.

he steps forward and hugs his sister and grandma... eyes only on the ramanchi girl.

he is smiling at her, he needs to say something... "kitni sundar lag rahi hai na khushi?" his voice is just slightly slurred, his eyes delighted and feeling the high. khushi is looking so lovely, isn't she?

my heart flips... a boy in love adoring the girl he loves with his eyes, holding his dear ones. a boy who hasn't felt this innocent joy in years. only 27... what a life it's been. just when he thought he'd found someone, a treacherous night. barun is bringing a side of asr to light, a side never seen before and how masterfully he calibrates it.

"she's beeautiful"... oh asr, sundar isn't your word, is it... that was for di and nani... beeeautiful is she to you.

"thodi pagal hai but cute hai." she's a little mad, but she is cute. i always knew that's what you couldn't resist about her. that sanka. her trademark. from the day she told you about the mango juice, your heart valves were losing their tight set feel... coming a bit undone. you knew she was gorgeous, she was fiery, you couldn't bear to watch her get hurt, but that cuteness of hers laced with a particular looniness, that's what sealed the deal... there is no escape. stop trying.

if i am talking like a maniac to a character that does not not not exist, it's thanks to the tremendous work of barun sobti. you wanted to talk to asr so often, you wanted to laugh and die with him. this acting if someone is willing to give me back, promise ya free flow of bhang for the rest of your life.

and she laughs, eyes closed, lost in dance.

"uske baal, uski aankhe..." so lost he is getting, drawn into her...

"uski smile..." did anyone hear that voice, how it cut off on the smile at the end as though the word is already said in his head...

and he starts to make his way to her... pulled by her, a magnetic force around them, separating them from the crowd...



anjali almost sobs with joy... nani is happy, their chhotey has found his love.

he picks up another glass and takes a swig... he wants to reach her he wants to get rid of all his inhibitions...she is his bhang maybe today... drink to me with thine eyes...

makes his way to her on slightly unsteady feet...rabba vey is in and again before the whole wide world two lovers meet alone.

she stops, and seems to be confused, asking something...

he reaches her... eyes look at her with only a simple feeling... i am here he seems to say. they stand still as the world dances around them...

the silhouette shot reminds me of the sun on the day he tied a bandage on her engagement finger.



he reaches out, holds her hand and pulls her close. one swift movement... he looks at her, his heart in his eyes, no anger no pretense nothing. just him. i am here.

and he remembers her resting back on him the day they danced teri meri... a letting go, how he'd held her, how much he'd wanted her.

she remembers he'd wanted to kiss her... khushi has a strong sensual desire for this man. one that surprises her maybe at times. she can't forget that poolside. no matter how much he insulted and hurt her after that, her mind, her gut doesn't let it go. she wants that kiss. in her mind her palms are clutching her saree, her lips anticipate a touch. how will it be? how will it be? she seems to ask. a young girl who has never been kissed on her lips before. her man, the only man whose lips she wants on hers. but we can never say such things. just feel them.

the colour, the music, the drums, the bhang... they all say, feel. don't stop.



the gentlest sweetest smile touched his lips, he wanted to cherish this woman, i felt, like nothing he'd ever cherished before. everything to him, this crazy lunatic.

he remembered he had slipped on her payal. the touch of her soft skin, her little tautening of skin perhaps in his thoughts.

camera picked up anjali saying, today chhotey had done everything for khushi, yet he says he married her for di. exactly, i want to say. does he even know why he had to marry her? what a ridiculous response to what he saw on the terrace. would arnav singh raizada marry such a girl, or even pretend to? who was he protecting really? just his di and her baby? just his injured heart? or maybe just maybe, this girl... from that dangerous man.

suddenly they were aware of their surroundings...

he stepped back and swung her as he let her go, she whirled around and stared at him... a huge question in her eyes.




she had perhaps felt it... the quickening of her dhadkan as he came close. maybe she needed to know why. needed to know, does it happen to him too. she was filled with a funny wonder too... was this the man who'd said i hate you. and was he the same one she'd replied she hated too?

what a heady colour red is... spreads sublime confusion.

he smiled.

she smiled back at him... friends... relief... and she started dancing again.

he took his di and nani into the crowd and joined in the dancing...



a thought:

when episode started, khushi was smiling happy as she got into holi mood... now if she really hated asr, would she be able to do this? her life has been turned upside down, no explanations given. yet, she is happy and floaty here, all set to play the game of colours.

poignant, isn't it? our feelings, how they assert themselves.  when she realised who shyam was, she couldn't wait a second to take off his ring and fling it on his face, but here this man has dragged her off to a crazy place, makes her sleep on the floor by the pool, (really asr, you got to pay for this), refuses to tell her why he's done so... her only clue that reference to a chot... but something in her feels things for him, her happiness keeps erupting... when he is away during kidnap, not a day does khushi feel like herself... worried sick for him, missing him, by now she knows he believes what he believes... but she can't deny what she feels.

this understanding of our inner feelings i did love about ipk. a crazy maturity in it, an elegance. none of the usual hindi serial predictable stuff and no sanctimonious shoulds and shouldn'ts in this feeling.

lots of beautiful moments in the episode.

"khushi, kissi ko jaanne ki zaroorat nahin hai ki jab hum akele hotey hain toh kya karte hain..." no one needs to know what we do when we are alone. though we all know what happens, how our imaginations soar at the suggestion in a husky voice. almost as though he wished it were the way it sounded.

a knowing smile from di and nani, a blank hazy look from khushi...

"achha?" really? says she innocent and goofy and trusting. "par... bhang?" but... bhang?

girl after my heart, loves her liquor, sorry cannabis.

before she can say anything else he places his finger on her lips... again an intimacy..

"shh... main bhang nahin peeta," shh... i don't drink bhang. so granular and soft the voice. and is he getting a little lost in his drunken partner's eyes? this whole thing should be written in urdu with plenty of "hosh, aagosh, etc.," an akbar feeling in me... mami ji's influence no doubt.

takhliya, khamosh, kaneez... and so on. kaneez by the way means slave girl i think. nothing is politically correct about the whole moghul thing. yet, there's endless beauty and understanding of human nature there.

mami ji was in akbar a la mughl-e-azam form. i loved her lunacy and extreme angst at seeing her one and only son canoodling with his one and only love. sparkling acting from utkarsha naik always.


"aur ab... tum chup rahogi," and now, you'll keep quiet, says asr to kkg.

bhang girl does eye talk... boy smiles...

i am thinking kaneez sounds like kameez... shirt. oooh was the writer cracking a smart one about the white shirt knowing it will have a certain influence on the viewers. looks like the intoxicant was having an effect on me too.

nani ji's comment about love melting big mountains, this is but her little one was touching. pretty much the summary of the episode.

anjali hugged her laughing dancing happy bro. he was so thrilled, had anyone seen him like that in the longest time? the first time i saw this i remember fearing. who knows what hell might come into his life next. but no... instead came the gazebo and the poolside and nothing felt more perfect. 12 to 16 march, the best days of ipk after marriage, were going by and taking me to another plane.

he saw her dancing away and then he noticed a drunk man shoving her ever so slightly by mistake. the eyes grew steely and angry. his girl... how dare anyone touch her...

the man who had told her this marriage wouldn't mean a thing... it was on "sirf chhe mahine ke liye," went up to the man and asked brusquely, "tuney meri biwi ko haath kaise lagaya", how could you touch my wife.

his wife. meri patni. such possessiveness, ownership in his voice. why did i have no problem believing he meant as much, he who had been so terrible just a few nights before. who made her sleep on the floor. yet i knew no one loved her more than he did. no one.

oh the colours of asr, in barun sobti's character sketch. 









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