Sunday, 13 December 2015

episode 259 woh baat

just saw 259. a beautiful dream and dreadful reality converged and created sharp contrast. in one world he skipped like a callow lover around the pool, free and wafting, in another there were ropes. binding him, making movement impossible... she sat touched perhaps by both and yes that phonecall and figured out, yes, there's khatra. danger... she knew stalked her arnav ji. seemed as though there was again communication at another level.


the more i think about it, the more i feel there was something musical in the episode. i know nothing about music in a formal way... yet the beginning felt like a soft gentle deep opening introducing the basic notes of the piece. then there was a lyrical movement asking you to fly away to another world. the next movement changed mood tone everything but stayed with the fundamental notes and their ascent and descent, it left fantasy just like that, hit reality running... breathlessly. tied and bound, gun pointing at it and there was a complete change of rhythm and pace. a crescendo was reached and then cut off.

episode could have ended there happily, but for some unknown reason, maybe just to kill time, there was that akash payal nani bit... like a song that didn't belong. and the disturbing cop station ha ha scene. but i'll just ignore them i guess.

gust of wind entered frame and wrapped around them creating a place away from the material world, as they sat in their own spaces, physically at a distance, emotionally completely connected. her tears flowed and seemed to take him close to a point close his. she held her phone and pressed it to her heart... with his voice in it, it was almost a part of him, and of course the only place she wanted to hold him at that moment was her heart.

the moment seeped into the story. the girl who had fallen into his arms one evening and set up emotions that tore into him, and yet he couldn't walk away with his swagger and his faraq nahin padta; the boy who snapped her dori and filled her with yearnings and longings she couldn't understand, and who made her hopping mad, who had wronged her... these two at last had found out what really ailed them. it was nothing else, just that old simple truth... the one that doesn't care a hoot what anyone says or doesn't, does or doesn't, not even if anyone has character or hasn't... it just is and it is all that matters.


supercedes all, doesn't it.

how simply he said it at last. how enchantingly she held the feeling and reciprocated. gust of wind and rabba vey must have thrown a party that night... at last these two had got it. at long last. so who could blame the wind for hanging around to enjoy the moment.
the two of them said nothing... just held a moment close and took it into themselves... like they needed it to breathe... to and the phone is disconnected.

she is weeping and he looks helpless, upset, not like his usual self at all.

a hand enters frame and it's the first sign that something is terribly wrong. beginning of kidnap...

an asr turn of head and icy glare at the whoever.

first notes of kidnap soundtrack with the jagged drumming comes in. a little taste of what's to come.

a gun is pointed at his head. i was shattered, and i must say i loved the kidnap sequences, well most of them, they were shot really well. raw and scary and palpable. 

how terribly gorgeous is asr looking even though his jacket is gone... only shirtsleeves, hair mussed, but the eyes, the stance, all asr.

and then come in the ropes. the reality dose is getting worse. good acting can sometimes be hard on the viewer. really. 

he sits in that terrifying space, ready for whatever is on its way... is it death.

and we escape to another world. khushi walks down the corridor to her room, on the way she recalls how angry he had been when he found out she was engaged... when he thought he had lost her... how both times he had said "faraq padta hai, kyunki..." he had always loved her... even then even when he hurt her all the time. it was all about this feeling, this one, nothing else.

i have mentioned earlier how i thought she almost instantly grew into a woman after embracing this truth. by the time she reached her room, she was all woman and a woman very much in love. so much, that her mind conjured a powerful image of him... here, looking beautiful, come all the way to tell her with all of himself... he loves her.

khushi, i love you.

into the second movement of the theme we went.

khushi wore bridal red to meet her man. he lit a candle to dispel the darkness, he stood there looking gentle and tender and so very loving, a light in his eyes. she was no longer afraid... she stepped into his world and held out her hand. he looked a little sad as though upset at having hurt her, she kept her fingers firmly on his lips. shh, not a word, no regrets.

aaoge jab tum balma... when you come, my love, flowers will bloom in my garden. the rain will come down... dancing. the first time i saw this, i had actually heard the song several times during that very day... no idea what was waiting for me at midnight.

he gestured gently and she saw he had brought a gift. a string of pearls. he was returning all those scattered pearls of the first meeting to her. how deftly the composition enriched itself with context. she was so happy, she let him put it on around her neck, and just as he moved in closer to wrap her in his arms and make love to her, she turned and in the way of filmi, slightly flaky khushi ran away from him, fully expecting him to follow just as in the movies no doubt. 
he didn't disappoint, he did a slomo run after her by the poolside where they always met to battle, to kiss, to love, to hate. and caught her and held her and she buried her face in his chest, her smile lit up the night. he was so content with her in his arms, but then he frowned... he was again assailed by remorse. she said to him not to feel like that. no. there was no need.

barun sobti and sanaya irani took what might have become impossibly embarrassing to watch to such sweet perfection, i couldn't even think, i was pretty silly gooey in a fairly dead state. i mean, did you see the look in his eyes, and she was suddenly just that bit provocative, that bit shy, wooing her man almost. 

then arrived the tackiest prop on earth and fantasy... the bottle which carried the message. even that couldn't ruin it for me. i love you, khushi said the note.

and a mirage melted away.

oh he had even in that gentle avatar of his managed to do an advance retreat... after all, this was a classic asr khushi moment, if a legendary couple's signature was a certain way they hugged or turned their heads or whatever... asr khushi's advance retreat was their thing... part of them, uniquely... right from the day they met, back in episode 2. thrilling this touch of things peculiar to them and always in an easy, unforced way. created memorable things, most brands would kill for such signatures.

she was startled to find herself in her yellow green churidaar kameez again. what was that. what happened.

and we shifted to reality. also the device of intercut.
music changed. a feeling of pain and torture and disquiet all around. ropes, darkness. he sits looking helpless, perhaps exhausted and asleep, still sitting. his eyes open, he is groggy, eyes unfocused... he looks around... and we see for the first time where he sits tied and captured.  the phone lies before him. a slight lightening of expression, his hand reaches out, fingers enter frame, a will in them.

the phone is too far away. he tries his best to reach it, dragging his chair toward it, herculean effort just to get to that tine little thing. breaks out in sweat, very tired, he's almost collapsing, the ropes hold him back... he is trying to say something, is it "khushi"?

and she is instantly touched it seems as we cut to her in her darkness, wearing a bright yellow... not bound, not stationery, in fact moving... in thought, in emotion, in body. she feels a darkness, she sits down as though winded by it.

cut to him, he has pulled himself up again. and he tries valiantly once more to reach that phone... he is not giving up.

cut to her, a surge of energy and she gets up and starts pacing... music moves from sombre to a faster pace.

"humey pata hai. humara man kah raha hai ki kuchh toh bura hua hai aapke saath.." i know, my mind says, something bad has happened to you.

again we go to him and he is still trying... but now his fingers register his flailing strength. and he seems to lose momentum, something is dragging him down. his head lolls back, eyes begin to shut.

she is in fully up and about as he diminishes... calling him, calling aman... trying to figure things out. no, aman knows nothing about the scotland deal.

he lies there in his chair, fragile, unconscious.

she calls the airlines... there was no flight to scotland from delhi three days ago.

"iska matlab?" and fear comes to clutch her heart.

cut to him...and his captors come calling. there's the man in the jacket. now in shirt and looking the ruffian he is. three or four guys, rough, henchman variety, they actually touch his face and slap him around abit. oh no, not agood sign. "kya hua issey?" what's the matter with him...

he is a diabetic, get his meds, if anything happens to him "boss" will kill them. ah so there's a boss. "mar toh nahin gaya hai yeh?" hasn't died has he? and asr's head flops to the side. ugh.

cut to khushi, she sits cogitating. why did he say he is in london if he is in scotland? she goes through her thoughts and reaches where we had started out... again like music coming back all the way to the first notes.

"khushi, i love you."

aur woh baat.

and those words.

why did he say those words to me. suddenly? and the way he said the words? unke baat karne la tarika? he has never spoken to me like this before...

she recalls how he had said she was having an affair, that she has no character... a vulnerable beauty in khushi at this moment. the man she loves who has told such horrible things to her, worse still believed what he has said...

jinhone humse itna kuchh kaha...
who said so many things to me...
itna rulaya... made me cry so much...
itni taqleef di... gave so much hurt...
jinhone humey sach sabit karne ka mauqa tak nahin diya... who didn't give me a chance even to prove the truth...
unhone hi humse kaha ki... he told me...

and she thinks of the words again. something oneirical (ha... that word) in the entire sequence, even though it is reality.

woh itni badi baat itni asani se kaise kah sakte hai...
how can he say such ahuge thing so easily.

and in asani was the cue to the next thought.
the opposite of that asani... mushkil. difficulty.

zaroor, she averred, woh koi mushkil mein honge.
he must be in some difficulty.

if all is going well there's no way he'd say such abig thing to her. she is sure.

kahin unhe koi khatra toh nahi?

danger... khatra. she has reached the right word.

she had not said a word when he said, "khushi, i love you."

but in the last few minutes she has talked constantly, with others, then herself... and come to the right conclusion... sensing him. his words. beyond its obvious meaning. feeling his mind, knowing his ways...

kahin unhe koi khatra toh nahin?

why did it sound like "arnav ji, i love you," to me.

she stood up, now sure. i know, my heart says, he is in some sort of danger.

beautiful. there was that ipk kind of writing here. with its little games and surprises, and such a mad understanding of emotion. new music played in the background as season changed at ipk. this was the first time we saw him in captivity, and her becoming absolutely a woman, his woman... barun was so good in these shots, hard to believe he was actually doing two shifts shooting some happy sukhi role somewhere. sanaya was lovely, at long last energy in her now that she has spoken to him... and moreover he has said woh baat.

i thoroughly enjoyed the intercutting and the two spaces both similar in some ways and completely different too. seemed like they were again communicating at another plain... sensing each other, deciphering, desiring, moving in unison, never quite apart. and yes, it did feel like a piece of music composed with inspiration. 

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