Tuesday, 17 November 2015

episode 239 the bride wore pink





it's a wedding again. only a month after a night of "haan ya na" and a dulhan who had no idea she was.

i can't help but think of that night, and despite all the jollity all around, the unstoppable mirth, i think of a man who became bridegroom and took a bride amid only tears and chaos. yes, weddings always mean a bit of chaos, but not the sort they saw within themselves and around them that night.

two dialogues got repeated too many times not to mean a thing... this is ipk, writers are clever with forming loops and echoes and reflections with the spoken word, to magnify a feeling, to nudge a memory, to create depth and texture.

so when there was that repetition of his "haan" changing everything, i had a feeling it was somewhere to remind us of that other night. when her "naa" couldn't change anything. she had no choice or he made sure she thought so that night. a tragic, intensely sad moment. but there was something sacred in what was to come.

on the flip side of that is today's "haan" where he had a choice but didn't know, and she made sure he didn't. a fairly comic, extremely lighthearted moment... and yet, was there to be a sacred moment soon? i couldn't see any sign of it anywhere in the din and rush of carrying carpets, fixing speakers, organising pandal, and avoiding rushing pesky kids... wedding milieu, wild wonderful and setting my teeth a bit on edge.

the other word was "dulhan", every time it was said, just after i had giggled, i'd remember a beautiful bride. was i to see her as dulhan again soon?

 
when you see a thing repeatedly, finally you might end up seeing something quite different from what you saw the first time. and this episode on this watch, brought me to a sacred moment on a rickety ladder.

i thought i saw a beautiful suhag raat in broad daylight, with all its longing, its nasha, its jadoo, its lifting of a veil, its looking into each others eyes, its palpitating heart stopping moments and its flowers.

now i might be completely imagining this and if anyone from ipk read this they'd probably be rolling on the floor laughing, but i saw what i saw teehee.

a comic air, errors galore, constant activity, great blocking... things were going along in a happy frolicking pace. khushi sang about the season to bug the laad governor, bua ji and asr got into lovely little conversations and both abha parmar and barun sobti were very good together. but i missed my asr... this pulverizing of the waistcoat man is frankly just plain tiresome for me.

he came out... stood on the steps, i remembered him standing just there a little over a month ago, so happy, in brown suit, come to see his girl... to floor her.

perfect stranger walked up to him and asked in a familiar manner if he were free. long thinking look, then a "nahin", oh barun did never quite let asr go, did he.

finally he figured out that he has been taken for a ride by his dear loving caring sharing in everyone's sadness wife.

"oh no no!" said the man.

"oh no? koi taqleef hai ka, babua..." is there a problem, shot back his jodi for the episode, bua ji.

a relationship has been made, and whatever we may say, the boy is well brought up, knows what is in good taste and what is not, plus after the initial faux pas he is very circumspect.

"oh no..." emphatic and hot, "koi taqleef nahin hai, bua ji." an abs sweetheart, this tycoon.

but to himself, "yeh kahan fas gaya mein" what have i got stuck in, ugh.

happy khushi came bounding out with spatula held aloft of , sanka at a high.

she asked him to move from where he stood.

"kyun?" came the brusque reply.

next thing, the speaker had got him, he almost passed out.

"haw aapke kaan toh bilkul tamatar ke tarah laal ho gaye hain..." ha, your ears have gone as red as a tomato, she said with an innocent sweet look. she had taken her revenge for the rudolph the red nose comment that morning.

why do i get the feeling he likes this sparring, it excites him... someone not scared of him, not kowtowing, and someone so pretty too... there's spice and myrrh in the air suddenly among all the pink and chaos.

pink again. the other night the mosquito net. way back a dupatta falling over an astonished girl's head. all moments of murmurous attraction, things not said because perhaps there is no need to.

"arre, aur phool chahiye..." we need more flowers said the bride's mother and made way for that moment i think of as sacred.

a beautiful silent act of love, just a ladder, a girl and a boy who wants to be with her. and that gust of wind on a pink dupatta.

she rushed to get the flowers which are at a height, but he is instantly alert, "khushi! khushi wait..." always protective of her... no matter whether it's mohabbat or nafrat.

she's up, reaching for flowers, he arrived, concerned at the sight of wobbling step ladder.

"khushi, chadne se pahle sidi ki position check kar leti!" his rough admonishing hid that care he feels.

"neeche aao!" come down, he hollered in full asr mien. bet she felt all sorts of sensations when he talked like that. there's some sort of indelible love in that possessive angry way. like he has a right over her.

"aa rahe hain," i'm coming she said with an irritated most wife like, there goes my husband again sort of way, and she turned... he watched most concerned.

and a gust of wind came to blow a dupatta. wind, dupatta, something was about to happen.

she got more and more flummoxed by flying dupatta. the wind stayed and played.

"hume kuchh dikh nahin raha!" i can't see a thing, she said panicking as the dupatta covered her eyes and head.

"khushi, stop it!" he yelled. and began to climb up the ladder, to reach her.

not a word, no music, just wind gushing steady, urgent, as he went nearer and she waited in pink veil... she looked through the veil and suddenly it all changed... notes of rabba vey entered. the whole world ceased to be, it's just you and me, here on a space between heaven and earth, why do i feel what i feel, and you? what is it that you feel? i can't stop looking at you or wanting to be near.

he stood on a rung a little below her looking at her entranced...

a long time ago he had seen this very face through another pink veil when he didn't believe in love, when he had only anger and disbelief in such matters... but he had been struck even then...



today it's this girl he is mad about and no matter how angry or hurt, something reaches him the moment she is near...

she stared at him through the veil and her eyes sought things that her conscious mind said she will not.

he was rapt... just looking at her was all he seemed to be capable of suddenly.


slowly he took the veil down to reveal her face... a suhaag raat ritual. the way he held the veil and pulled it down to reveal her face, there was that sense of an important act. something much more than the literal meaning.

if there was a rapt mesmerised feel to the way he looked at her, in her eyes a funny sort of hunger for a second. a need.


she was embarrassed, he was just there gazing at her, to be with her is all he seeks, she lurched forward, he caught her. oh the heat of that coming together, even in a long shot there is desire everywhere.

as she averted her eyes there was suddenly a flicker of urgency, a question in his.



then the moment was over.

he let go of her shoulder. "tum neeche jao..." go down, he commanded.

"uh hamare phool?" but my flowers?

"phool main le aaonga!" i'll get the flowers, divine yelling and taking charge...

and then it happened.

she lost balance, and it all came tumbling down.




that falling felt significant. symbolic. together they are constantly in a plunge, falling ever deeper into an emotion, holding on to each other never letting go, who knows where it is taking them.

on the floor scattered with petals of marigold, together they lay, winded and then feeling things.

hey hey... heyheyhey.

as they tried to sit up the petals showered down. the brats had tipped the flower basket (okay, this bit was shot pretty badly, the gravity defying basket almost snatched my attention away from the magic unfolding).



he just lay there watching. in no hurry... i loved that look on his face, he has taken the veil off his bride's face, he has seen her, he is enamoured, now he will lie with her and revel in her. not suhaag raat? i loved this entire bit of episode, the pace, the colours, the emotions, the sheer scorch.

she realised and was too smitten herself to do much about things.

marigold petals all over, yellow, orange, in the colours of the sun, spiritually significant and always at weddings and auspicious occasions, a certain sensuality to soft, plush petals. finally the entire tokri fell.

"phool toh.." she smiled.

"i know..." he agreed. they almost sounded like friends... or lovers, a bit shy, a bit lost.




rabba vey. she started to smile.



and he smiled back at her. it was perhaps their first uncomplicated, warm and private smile looking at each other with nothing but pleasure and love. yes, just that... love. was she dulhan for a moment there? and did he again give a "haan?" this time not without knowing what he said yes to.



soon we were rushing to generator and khushi had again taken umbrage at his arrogant little i am arnav singh raizada and started plotting. i thought he wanted her to succeed at fixing the machine. the advance retreat of asr khushi was a delight after such a long gap. he flicked her cheek, she was miffed. he sat next to salman with cotton in his ears looking a dish. he was devastatingly rude to the little boy with his "i don't care." the boy spilled the beans, the busy businessman plays games on his laptop... er asr, did i hear right? this must be new if that is the case... your pagal biwi is having an effect on you.  anyway now he is going to be mechanic. oh h where is his waistcoat?

shyam stole the will... could have been a great track but alas.









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preeto and a wedding episodes
episode rambles
fanfiction








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