Tuesday, 1 December 2015

episode 249 string me along

shyam and khushi meet at the poolside and the scamming and scheming aspects of the show get going. i notice abhaas has gained a lot of weight and hair. his acting is more flat and loud, his music obvious. something tells me the makers are really worried about barun's impending time away. the first time i saw this episode, honestly the will and things just did not interest me by then, was exhausted by all the turmoil, completely unnecessary i felt then and even now, over the hero's decision to act in a film. too much information and for no reason... things happen when you do long term stuff, actors take breaks, manage it and get on with it... don't exhaust the audience... 

khushi looks at him, a desperation in her eyes... she has been completely bludgeoned by the revelation of the "sach." her mind is really not in a good place... if someone did that to me... or something like this happened, would i be able to keep completely sane and do the smartest thing or even the sanest? perhaps not. and really if i think of her state in 100/101 when her babu ji was unwell: a horror story out of nowhere, that one also brought about by this same man though she has no idea, she had lost it then too... she had yelled at arnav ji for paying. she had raved and then put her hand on her head and said, what am i doing... ultimately she had visited the real fear within her... i can't lose my father... not again... not a second time.

khushi and loss. where does this fear take her? here she fears she will lose him, her arnav ji. to fight and yell and shout at him is one thing, to hate him while he is with her is tolerable. to not know perhaps was better. for now she knows what he thinks of her... and a fear in her of losing the most precious one in her life maybe? if i look forward, it's the ankahi anjani soliloquy getting crystalised in her maybe. her heart sends her messages, her instincts know what she struggles with to acknowledge. but really she is not quite herself... baat aapki hai... she is at one level going to pieces. in that state this desperate act of depending on a known devil just might come about.

human, she is but only that. and a very bad decision she makes.

still, her head speaks to her, and she says, no..."chahe kagzat sahi bhi ho lekin hum unhen kissi bhi tarah ke dhoka nahin denge." she will not trick him in any way she avers. she is trying hard to remain sane while all goes crazy in her.

again, it was a brave attempt, but she had to buckle finally. on the bridge she had said, no, i won't tell you a thing if you have such a low opinion of me... but haalaat, circumstances... what a hold it has over us at times. in that case, it was her heart that needed to tell him... no no no, she wasn't the characterless harlot he thought she was.

this time too her heart will have its way.

the dori she was given and she will bring up poignantly... that makes us do things we wouldn't have if we were not tied to an idea, a feeling... 

he sits at his laptop, a brown shirt accentuating his incredible brownness, the bali dance comes to mind. the re-telecast has just shown it. a congealed concentrated hurt and turbulent pain in him... his feelings and thoughts are always deep as the ocean...bottomless really, they all go and merge and flow at some immeasurable depth below the surface that is so brown.

years ago, i had learned the word, "dun coloured", while trying to read the hungry tide by amitava ghosh. i did not finish the book... looking at this picture i kept thinking of the delta waters, the tide and the colour dun, maybe that is a bit dull and dirty and this sharper but that uniform brown covering seemed to speak of something not at all flat or monochromatic that lies beneath...

if you think such ghatiya things about me, then you are not fit to be told anything really... he is thinking of her and nothing else, his eyes move recalling her words...

ekbar aap humse poochkar toh dekhte... you should have tried asking me once. 

how can he not think of her? how can he not be anguished by her hurt... no one asked him to take the thread and hold it, but he did that of his own accord when he felt her pain and wanted to be the one to alleviate it, comfort her, say, sab kuch theek ho jayga... again 100/101 echo. he had not been pushed by anything other than an inner thing, an emotion. but then isn't an emotion really more compelling than most things... he had put his hand on her head. there was a promise in it, unbeknownst to him his heart had already made a deal... the biggest deal of his life.

there was no walking away, no reneging. more than the word that is uttered or given, is the word the heart has felt... he will try to go away, to break the deal... but will he succeed?

thoughts cascade... she hates shyam ji, his dhoka... but khushi ji ghar bahut suna suna sa lag raha tah aapke bina. that ingratiating sentence of shyams interrupts.

eyelids lift, a feeling thickens.

and the coffee bears the brunt of it... back one day, after hurting her unbearably, telling her koi matlab nahin hai... she means nothing to him, he had had a similar converstaion with a drink and a man servant..

arnav bhaiya, coffee?

nahin chahiye.

chai de doon?

maine kaha na nahin chahiye!

i always enjoyed his unpretentious way with servants, and had a feeling they appreciated it too. they knew whose bark was worse than his bite... and who was there if they needed anything... in a world of fake and empty performance appraisals and and then sweetly worded stabs in the back... where sacking is called separation, i like this not sugarcoated honest human interaction... this gets trust, loyalty and involvement in work, all of which are priceless if something of meaning is to be done.

nani and di and mami worry... what's with him. i feel happy though, it is good to see him back at home, in his natural space. with his bunch of women fretting caring loving... families are so much about getting into each others lives sometimes claustrophobically even, but maybe it's good to get a little asphyxiated and then yell, shout... a funny joy in it.

di classically is ready to get juice for him, all problems can be solved by eating and drinking, and since he is the westernised sort, what could be more calming than some juice, it does wonders. yes it does, of course, but really you must pour it into the shoes to get the full goodness of juice. in fact, assure you it is really good for the heart when you do that.

nahin di, mujhe kuch nahin chahiye, i'm fine.

okay i am lying dead now, where did he get that "foine" from, amrika, vilayat, where... it is lethal and should not have been allowed to clear customs.

so cute, his di and nani are unimpressed by the deadly accentiya, they want to know about chottey and the khatirdari at sasural...

manorama and bua ji settle for a skirmish over the phone... was there not enough fawning over the son in law? mami must find out, humre arnav bitwa after all... she of the killing accent herself? haan? serbhees naat okay? haan? very bads moods... he has come back with.

buaji does a neat backhand shot... "baccha log jab lambi chhuttiyan ke baad jab school wapas lautte hain na, toh thode din dukhi rahte hain." when kids return from long holidays they are a bit down for a few days.

asr apparently gets the pyaar in their adrak wali chai which his home kaaffee doesn't have.

while it sounded great, i couldn't agree. yeah, he is a bit of a loner, and people around often don't get him. but this is where he is himself, especially in his room. and i like to see him walk in with that distracetd air handing over his bag to op, knowing this is his castle, no one bugs him here, he doesn't need to smile and be nice.

a sister tries to understand why her brother and his wife don't look happy... iss rishtey mein toh aap hi ko thoda sabr rakhna hoga. she advises khushi that it is she who will have to be patient in this relationship. there bua was at asr telling him sanka devi's virtues, here di monitors the relationship her bro has with his wife. so terribly natural where i come from. and most irritating.

brown man comes, speaks only to di, ignores the girl he thinks of all the time, a button decides it is time to do something about it and falls... krishna i think... something is always playing and playful around here.


khushi picks up the button.

she did say that she had not taken the string, the dhaga, of her own volition... true. but it was she who picked up what would be sewn with the string.

that they met was perhaps not of her doing, fate/god/life call it what you will presented that. but to take it forward or not, that was her decision, not even his... chal khushi chal, go khushi go, she had admonished herself and run after him in the dargah, he in fact had walked away... episode 3, unforgettable scenes... strangely all these scenes have been playing in my mind...

and now instinctively the button she picks...

just as he has put a hand on her head... she has allowed the sindoor to touch it... coerced or not, her decision somewhere... once that is done and she is patni... and to use durga's word, premika, which she is even though she doesn't know it... she takes care of things, even when things fall apart.

that is the role she plays, she wants, she holds dear.

something about rotten sweets babli and bhabs and mr a... why was it necessary to strip payal of her payalness? okay, moving on...

"sirf ek button hi toota hai usske liye poori shirt change karne ki kyazaroori hai?" only a buttin is off, what's the need to change the whole shirt because of that, says anjali.

aur khushi ji hain na? and khushi is there, isn't she?

a tiny picture imprinted in the head, and the impact on a whole relationship, a little moment that destroys a lifetime... and yes, khushi ji is there... she will mend it.

he looks at her stricken almost. the look for the day was reminiscent of a classic time, 40s fifties, the faces looked more intense, the styling heightened it... his hair, her make up, colours. a time of more intense emotions maybe.

the sister for whom two lovers came closer and then clashed in a tempestuous storm, is here working to make sure the storm settles... not knowing her place in the eye of it.

a pair of eyes looked terribly sad and hurt.

another pair lifts its gaze, dun showing fury, hiding hurt.

a box full of dhaga is given to the girl, whose dori was snapped that made a tie the most carefully tied knot perhaps couldn't.

he stood helpless and maybe just wanting her approach... while his sister supervised. she walked to him.

she tucked a needle between her teeth, then resolutely held his shirt front ready to sew on the button. di left looking pleased.

as di left he looked up, a gaze full of consternation fixed on khushi's bent head till then... 

they are together, and that somewhere is enough, a sense of two of them in each other lost is here, rabba vey trills in. i think of him standing by the poolside looking at her payal held aloft in his wondering hand. now she is almost pressed against the seena he doesn't have. some primal pure feelings, do they ever change.

the world keeps turning and new emotions emerge, take shape and touch and change things within... but that untouched thing i think remains. that's what reminds of their earlier days and later helps in resolving conflict...

it helps us too.

he let his eyes go blank... and held her hand stopping...

di has left... drama karne ki koi zaroorat nahin hai.

a silent murmuring look from a girl in a terrible quandary, almost a life and death situation...

he turns away, she hurts her hand on the needle...

where is the place for pretense anymore... he has put a hand on her head, a string has been tied in his heart... where is the struggle then.


and on that cry, comes back another one, outside by the pool, when he saw her blood on a glass...

all tied by a string neatly, from day one... a tale of an emotion... its journey through the bedard days of life... it's nishana never faltering...


where is the pretense, the anger the hatred...

not since the day he picked her out of a crumbling building, something elemental in it... could he return to don' care blithely.

she looks at him and he must look away though... only to lift his gaze again to her face, searching, searching for so long, ever since that terrace.

"hum drama nahin kar rahein..." i am not doing drama. lovely easy dialogue, life like... "dhaga hume zabardasti thamna pada... hamari marzi nahin thi..." i had to hold the string, didn't have my consent... sanaya's voice has planted it in my head and gut...

a wait, a beautiful moment as he listens intently, listening for something, and she looks up at him, and director sends in rabba vey... in every moment, in conflict or in hate, in disgust or in despair, in all things ugly too it was love and even death do not us part...

a mid shot, we can't breathe, this is just to allow us to, because now she will come back in with a heart stopping...

"lekin ab jo baandh diya hai toh..." but now that it is tied, then...

and a memory... he is holding her and telling her he has married her because he thinks she is having an affair, she has no character... he is holding her so tight, so rough..

he looks at her and stars get thrown and chucked.. they scatter on the floor.

a frame smashes on the road...

break break break...

but she can't.

he flings her away...

she steps closer... like a dance they move, one frame in the mind the other in reality... like that night of teri meri... writing the story of their lives

she comes in closer... to his heart.

kyun khwabon pe tere saayein hain...

and she picks another stitch...

kyun khamoshi hain zubaan meri ashkon se kah paaoo na...

it was all about these feelings really, which is why nothing else ever mattered... we didn't really need anything else...

sanaya's eyes told an epic today. they had been lying a bit dormant for a while, like a writer taking a break, or blocked... but a break is always good.

the eyes said so much, reading them will take a lifetime... or the kidnap time... to ponder to feel to let in and let nothing else matter.

yin and yang here.. shivshakti too... that eternal duality which wants to merge and become whole.

she sewed on, their faces inches from each other, did they look into each other's eyes... or did their gazes just miss each other's...?

a classic shot, her mouth on the thread, close to his chest, she pulled and cut the string... tying it even tighter. no doubt to some place beneath or between the aorta and the heart chambers...

he stood motionless. maybe not even breathing...

she wanted to talk to him... just for a moment... he ignored her, shrugging on his jacket. he left.

anjali came back and shyam joined them soon. di who is so good at gauging chhotey and khushi ji's every mood continued being curiously clueless in reading her husband's words. shyam's manipulation went on... a note of the hindi serial entered the frame.

but the beauty of what happened before was what mattered.

a little ipk style at the end... he looked tired and ddg in his meeting. she charged into his office wanting to tell him bahut zaroori things, but would she be able to tell him everything this time? alas. this is khushi... who runs to tell him all... just like he had gone to tell di everything that night.

asr is in his office, there has been a take over in london.. everything obviously has to be remodeled.

"i think we need new machinery.

what the!

this kind of behaviour is not acceptable..."

me giggling, i hate that not acceptable ridiculous phrase... who cares what is or isn't acceptable. lifewa just happens.


because you don't 
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