Tuesday, 1 December 2015

episode 248 talk to me

indu, (friend of mine, major fan of ipk)

thanks for that "phenk do". one of my can't think moments of ipk... and him walking, long loping strides as maula maula maula mere words pour over the scene which is almost movie like... the frolicking happy khushi, youthful leapy in white with diaphanous dupatta, engaging with the environment, giggly and animated... the tall, dour, dark stranger aloof from everything, older than his years, in black dense material, eyes inert, completely at odds with the environment, avoiding all contact and yet in command of it all. on a big screen i imagine this entrance into the dargah... and really maybe some day.

i can watch that walk forever i remember writing when we first saw this episode on blast.

i am frankly finding it really hard to bear that next week onward, he is hardly going to be around... once again, gone.

yes, that background music was moving and had a sense of something momentous in it. played again and again in the beginning. must look out, maybe it comes up again...

back to the girl in white and the man in black. something untouched about them, isn't there? he walks stiffly as he did in the initial episodes, well not that jerky, but still stiff. he has not yet got his modulations worked out perfectly, just getting into the role, but i found all of it perfect. raw... real. and despite all flaws, you couldn't look away.

he makes contact.

so does she.

with me.

curious, we speak of this episode now. there they met for the first time under the open skies, standing on bare ground and confronted what they had no idea, the key was just an excuse...

and today again, a confrontation standing on bare ground, between heaven and earth. confronting one of the toughest things we ever have to face, a feeling for someone that is bigger than us. the incident on the terrace is just an excuse.

i look at how their eyes have changed, their body language... the growth of a relationship between two bookends.

i see she flinches at the memory of a pearl dori being ripped... in her mind that barrier has been crossed, now when she thinks of him, it's the kiss, it's a streak of sindoor.

on the bridge she also flinched, at the shutting of the door. and now she will try what she can to open that door and we know she will succeed. a streak of violence in their interaction always... gashes, wounds... through which a feeling could enter and grow.

aap aise jaa nahin sakte.

here was the first time she said it... and next monday we'll hear that again...

how many times i have said it after how many fights.

phenk do, he had told her. today he looked like he tried very hard to throw the key away because everything hurt too damn much.
with his insulting throw you away words... i know it is hard to walk away from being mrs arnav singh raizada. he used to hurt for a different reason then, but now it's cause is another... and a door has been opened that he might never be able to lock and throw the key away of. and maybe in her completely inspired reaction to that insult... she gathered the key and went and sat next to him.

indu, thanks for that trigger. i decided to point the gun at me and pull it.

a few more thoughts...

as they get into mortal combat mode, a desperate air in this rather unpretty spot. and there shooting at the kind of time when natural light is not making the shots more intersting in any way... everything is too bright. but all that doesn't matter, it's only about the acting really for me. the untrammeled intensity and sense of freefall in the air.

not freefall... skyfall. yes, a sheer complete plummet. as voices rise and fly, as expressions are pushed up. a dizzying, stomach emptying fall... everything is ending.

"khushi, tumhari himmat kaise hui..." how dare you, khushi...

"nahin hui... uss raat bhi nahin hui thi, lekin shayad humey himmat karni chahiye thi...taki cheekhke chillake kissi bhi tarah sacchai aapki kano tak pahunche..." i didn't dare, maybe i should have, that night i would have screamed and shouted and made you hear the truth.

"yeah, right... sach!" voice flies.

"jee haan, sach!" yes, the truth, sir! she shot back, no fear... woh sach jisse aap meelon dor hai..." that truth from which you are miles away.

nice delivery... crisp angry... not mopey. the girl who makes jalebi when she is mad at the world is here.

ek baar ek baar aap humse poochkar toh dekhte..

if only you had asked me once, just once. she is leaning toward him, an urgency t tell him the truth. shyam ji fooled us... tricked all into believing he is not shadi shuda.

instantly a response from her opponent. she tells him all. about shyam's deception and the situation i which she got engaged. asr responds to every inflection, every "sach"... percussions keep track. she finishes vehemently stating she'd rather die than have shyam's name associated with hers.

asr stands looking at her and then asks, had i asked you that night would you have told me?

she replies, of course she would have, but he was in such a rush to get married.

he so so wants to believe this. it's in
his eyes, his stance, his need is palpable. he comes close, but alas his mind, his dimag has a memory imprinted. chap gaya hai dimaag par... mit nahin sakta.

it is not erasable.

his eyes lose focus, when they come back to her face, the anger is back, the music, the mayhem... just for a few short seconds the temptation to believe... to feel with his heart not think with his head...

soft husky voice, "tumhe kya laga..." what did you think, if you had told me that night i'd have believed you with my eyes closed?

she knows, it's over.

i have never seen anyone clap with one hand, i believe what i have seen and heard, i have heard you say this and i have seen you... tum dono ko ek saath... agony enters his voice... ek doosre ki baahon mein... "baahon" seemed to fall away.

sanaya did most of her close ups with a double, i have a feeling had he been there, we would have seen a more arresting performance.

as he felt his life almost ebb away at the thought of the two in each others arms, he came back with renewed ire and a pretty darn good question: yeah, if you are so sachi and shyam so bura, why have you not tried even once to tell me the truth... why did you let my di worship that man like god...

got to love this mind. valid, pertinent question.

"chilla chillakar kyun shyam ki asliyat sabko nahin bata hai..."why didn't you scream out to all who this man really is?

he asks this because he would. but she didn't. different personalities, different compulsions.

"mujhe kuch batane ki koshish kyun nahin ki?" why didn't you try to tell me? again and again he says how much it matters to him to matter to her.

she is in a qaundary. why didn't you tell me, khushi... khushi, i am talking to you... answer me, dammit, main kuch poochh raha hoon.

he can't stay away and disconnected any more... he so damn well wants to believe... struggling with his dimag, wanting to give dil a chance... astonishing progress in asr... would he have wasted so much time if it were anyone else? but here, he hopes somewhere, in some corner of his mind that what he saw was not true. maybe he even suspected it, but prisoner as he is to that past of his, the belief that women are dangerous, pretty girls from not so wealthy backgrounds trap men and ruin lives... life's little irony again, that is exactly the profile of the girl that he adores.

he lunges forward and holds her face in his hands, his body arched toward her and almost begs her to make this truth go away. in almost tender tones, anger coated he says, why, khushi, why... you who always speak so much, why are you silent?

lovely words: kyun, khushi kyun... tum jo hamesha itni baate karti ho woh aaj itni chup kaise rah sakti ho.

good catch, writer...

"tum jiske paas har sawal ka jawab hota hai woh kuch bol kyun nahin rahi hai?" you who has the answer to every question why are you not saying anything?

a very vulnerable man on a hot and bothered and killing bridge. holding his wife's face, looking into her eyes.

the first time i saw, i thought this is where the famous mu would end.

she started talking, she said nothing because even one word from her would have wrecked his di's life. the one he loves so much...

it did sound like a lame excuse... and after what he'd said, she didn't bother to understand or apologise for not trusting, instead a self righteous tone of voice.

he does not believe... no more stories, he retorted blocking her out.

"chap gaya mere dimaag mein woh pal... jab maine tumhe aur..."

he can't say it another time.

"ab nahin mit sakta."

it is over.

you saw what you wanted to see... she starts again.

he reels away from her in anger, in fury... enough! bakwas band karo.

aggression wildly rising he threatens her and then, hurting madly within, reaches out to draw blood.

"main achhi tarah samajh sakta hoon ki mrs arnav sing raizada banke jo paisa, aaram aur shaan milta hai usse jaane dena..."

ohhho ho.. he is hurting, he is nastier and nastier...

low and husky and insulting, "koi pagal hi hoga jo isse chhor dega..."

rabba ve... beautiful beautiful beautiful

this is love, in its most red form.

redder than even desire.

a full crane or trolley or whatever shot, two contenders two lovers two gladiators on a bridge. who will slay whom.

and he walks away. a tear falls. again she starts when she hears the door.  she wipes her tear and goes home with him.

everything is horribly tense naturally now. khushi is fretting. asr is cut off from everything, imploding.

a beautiful scene as khushi stands in her room, holding the dress that she had been wearing as the truth came out. an avalanche of thoughts, and a realisation...

"unhen hum par vishwas karna hi hoga... hum aise nahin jee sakte...  yeh jaankar ke... unke soch humare baare mein itni..." he must believe her... she can't live like this... knowing... this is what he thinks of her.

what he had asked her in many ways... don't i matter to you, she answered that really here... you matter to me too too much, i can't live if this is what you think of me.

there was really no need to name this love.

now the suv is gone, soon barun will go away too, and everyone is getting ready for that. 

adele singing skyfall, a misunderstanding soars and sings its own mad song.  

 credit: uploader

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