Sunday, 31 January 2016

episodes 96/97/98 honeymoon trail




na tumhari baat sunni hai aur na tumhari shakal dekhni hai... i don't care ki tum kahan jaati ho, kya karti ho... i don't give a damn.

not that he'd lied. in that rush of anger, he really thought he meant it. he didn't want to see her face, nor talk to her, he didn't care where she went, what she did, he didn't give a damn. the mood was very rhett butler, must say. scarlett had gone too far.

anger. his friend, his foe, his mate. that anger was needed if a little boy whose mother was torn from him suddenly and terribly, whose world was scattered like a string of pearls, snapped; the pearls falling and crashing, their sound sharp, repetitive, on the hard floor echoing... if that little boy were to survive this calamity, he needed to find something within him. the boy found his rage and made it his own.

and today, a young woman who intrigued him with her strange ways, who stayed in his head long after she'd left, who came up with the most bizarre plans to get him to do what he didn't want, and try as he might he couldn't get her out of his life, today, she had driven him straight round the bend on a road which he thought would be serene and uneventful.

"thodi hi der mein sochogi, ki kaash tumne mujhe  jaane diya hota..." in a short while you'll wish you'd let me go, he promised. khushi's pranks had not only completely thrown his nainital plans into disarray, now, to ensure that he doesn't stalk off without eating, without a car, in a foul mood and brooding, khushi had done a super filmi thing. "nahiiin!" she'd practically declaimed, gathered the crowds around and said, he can't leave her like that, it's not even been two hours and 24 minutes (er, khushi... natural born melodrama script specialist, that's what you are) that the two had eloped and got married... and all because the food was too hot, he was leaving? not her fault... aunty ji was to blame. poor aunty ji looked ashamed for causing such trouble. uncle ji gathered large turbaned men to bar the man from leaving, editors made a nice chutney of the scene showing different sets of large men from different camera angles, but none the less, what khushi had set out to do was achieved.

asr's adios plans were foiled. leaving a tawny eyed creature in orange red anger.

he'd watched the theatrics nonplussed. this is not a man who likes such campy things, most of all he will not tolerate someone trying to get the better of him. and there's khushi, raising eyebrows, smiling as if to say, "got ya." oh this is intolerable.

i must say, i understood his ire perfectly. and as the bhangra proceeded and the midway fun of that highly unsubtle nature that seems to be dhaba fare got going, i was glad to see a nasty expression enter his eyes, and a mean lopsided smile take shape. he had another idea and this one would not please drama queen. the king of gussa meant to win this round.

"aur agar shaadi aaj hui hai, toh suhag raat bhi aaj hi hogi na?"
so if the marriage took place today, the suhag raat must also happen tonight, right? khushi had not remembered how shatir the hungry angry young man could be. what?!!! wedding night? aunty jiii uncle jiii...

his "chale?" was a bit different from the tender one just a while back when her dupatta had fallen and he'd shown how keenly he understood her needs and respected them. he slung her on his shoulder with one easy tug, caveman style, and took her, protesting screaming kicking, to the "honeymoon suite."

there in  the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere, he let his anger take over... "shhh!" he spat out. peremptory. at the end of tether.

you started the drama, i'll end it. today you've crossed all limits... before i wake up tomorrow morning, disappear from here. i don't give a damn. and he left her alone in the room and walked off to get some sleep in a comfortable bed.

she sat there petrified, the lights went out, she was frozen in terror. in a second the mood had been expertly changed from fun and light to dark and tense.

"devi maiyya raksha karna..."
thoughts of the night at the guest house in my mind. the hours ticked by, she sat alone in fear.

he wakes up, the day registers. first name on his lips... "khushi" enquiring, then getting worried.. "khushi?!!" memory comes, and an expletive... oh shit. in an instant, he's up, the quilt flung off, quickness in every move. urgency.

where is she.

"aaj bhi hume tez gadi se darr lagta hai... hume andhere mein jaane se dar lagta  hai," she's scared of speeding cars and the dark even now, he is horrified as he recalls.

this was the thing about his anger. when it came it blinded him to everything completely. perhaps taking his mind to the state it was in on a day from hell. everything went blank, all he knew was to hit out against everything. go away... go away... take this terrible reality away possibly was trapped in silent screams within him. it blocked out everything.

everybody.

even khushi.

but when he calmed down, the enormity of his actions swamped him, making him feel terrible, guilty, just downright bad. i don't know why i am like this he will say to la soon, he does this without thinking or knowing... "anjaane me"... but when he realises what he's done he is just so ashamed of his actions.

he found  her. he also realised she'd been alone through the night, without light or fan, sitting... and as if that weren't enough, she had high fever.

all because he was angry. "dammit" under the breath.

and the cave man turned into the gentlest being on earth as he lifted her and carried her to a comfortable place, lay her down tenderly and soothed her fever away.

"khushi, khushi,"
how can a monster sound so sweet.

"amma... babu ji..." khushi needs her own, her care givers, delirious she seems to be. his eyes darken, sadness at his own behaviour and worry about her in them.

"khushi, uthkar doodh pilo... phir dawai khani hai..." khushi, get up and drink your milk, you have to have your medicine after that...

a pair of most caring arms lifted khushi up by the shoulders and brought her close toward his heart, looked as though he just wanted to gather her up and embrace her, enfold her with his arms, like the most precious thing life had given him. maybe the director had slowed down motion, maybe the cinematographer had got the perfect magnification and angle, perhaps the lighting was perfect, but could just that have created that sense of drawing into oneself in the scene? or was it the phenomenal understanding of a moment in a characters's life that somehow barun and sanaya seemed to have.

rabba vey and a gust of wind, rustling by, as he lifts her up, a scene i'll remember long.

shashi gupta knows the truth.



he could get angry, he could walk away, he could  shout and ignore, but he could not ever not love his drama queen. she could call him names, she could fight, she could even hate him, but she could never not love her gussa boy.


97


sunlight streams in through the window. he sits by her and tends to her, bathing her fevered brow, watching over her...

he begins to move his hand away and she turns her face, resting a soft childlike cheek against his hand, nestling in trustingly. in the silence of his heart there's a truth, when no one's watching, he won;'t push it away. his heart moves before his head can. she snuggles more against his palm, he slides down from the bed, to keep her comfortable, leave his hand where she wants it.

he remembers how she'd fed him the previous day. all attention and immense care.

he remembers the threat, get out before i get up tomorrow morning.

i'm sorry, khushi, i'm so sorry, the words fill the air, so still all around. not a trace of anger or worldliness in him now. just a boy, a girl, and a real feeling. what else is a honeymoon.

he reaches to gently ease his hand out and remembers a tear, rolling down from her eyes. his arms around lavanya, a tear sliding down khushi's cheek, the cheek resting so peacefully in his palm right now. why did she cry?

why do i feel at this moment, he knew, he knew exactly what was going on, within both of them.



she's better, they are leaving their "suite," a gentle air about him, concerned,
 

"khushi?... tum... theek toh ho na?" khushi, you're ok, aren't you?

"hum dilli wapas apne aap chale jaayenge..."
i'll get back to delhi on my own, she offers, obviously still hurt by his ruthless anger. he's about to tell her not to be like that, he couldn't leave her... or so his body language indicates.

and the jeep with wild people arrives.

asr and khushi confront the goondas. babuji confronts shyam.

right versus wrong... pure versus evil. 



a fascinatingly well constructed segment of intercutting between the two scenarios. as shyam takes on his most virulent form, dhaiya ho begins to play. his music from day one. which clearly means, that day when he met khushi as protector, even then he was not. he was always something cringingly dark, convoluted, and coiled. some day we'll construct the perfect story for him.

at the dhaba, as asr's anger is triggered by a man pushing khushi, his music holds sway.

both men are willing to kill someone... for khushi. but only one of them loves her. yet he leaves her alone in darkness without a covering the whole night. it's complicated... maybe because it's real?

"haan mar daloonga, isski himmat kaisi hui tumhe haath ..." yes, i'll kill this man, how dare he touch you... you are mine asserts his heart, his gut, mine, and i will always be yours, holding you loving you, making sure no one hurts you... mine... do you hear me? and don't you forget that, dammit. but his head can't hear at the moment. too much anger. his friend. his foe. his mate.

he's beating a man relentlessly, kicking, pummeling, hurling, hitting his head against the floor... a hand on his shoulder, and he returns to reality.




98


 
blood on knuckle, a shaken man at the wheel. he has nothing to say to her. silent. he remembers her voice rising, "aap ko ho kya gaya?" what's happened to you.

he has no answer, just questions plague him, "kya ho gaya tha mujhe? why did i react like that?" what happened to me what happened to me what happened... his mind buzzes. te answer his heart and gut knew, his mind, his dimaag had not yet heard. his anger was protecting his heart, reflex action. his buddy, his temper. no nothing must hurt his fragile heart again, not if his gussa has anything to do with it.

tense silence. khushi chirps in, "dilli aa gayi..."

not a word.

finally she can't take it, she has never seen him like this. all through, despite all her nautanki, it's all been about her wanting to bring good things to him really. a little pyaar time with la, when that failed, a little pakoda to calm him, he won't have it... then some food at the dhaba, something nourishing, he hasn't eaten the whole day and he fainted in the morning. but he wouldn't listen. then the nahiiin natak, so that he wouldn't be stuck alone on the highway, minus car, awfully hungry. always about him. her laad governor whom she even in the third person calls, "aap" with a strange kind of respect, and yells at as though she has every right to, she has no idea why her eye wells up with a tear when he holds another, or why her expression turns to melancholy when someone else speaks of marrying him... all she knows is that she is worried about him, this anger, this out of control fury is no good for him. and if it's not good for him, she can't bear it... it's not good for her.

"dekhiye aap kuch toh boliye... hum jaante hain ki humne aapko bahut pareshaan kiya, lekin aap kuchh bol nahin rahe hain toh hume kuchh ajeeb sa lag raha hai... (ajeeb, again that word, it is the defining word for the nature of their love story, along with hamesha and vishwas and dammit maybe?) waise toh aap hamesha hume daant-te hain, chillate hain, hume apni aukat ki yaad dilate hain...waise kariye na. iss tarah  aap ko chup baith-te hue humne kabhi dekha nahin hain..."look, please say something... i know i have driven you crazy, but you're not talking and that feels so strange... otherwise you scold me, shout, (and then remembering, she adds with enthusiasm), remind me of my status... why don't you do all that. i've never seen you sit quietly like this...

"aap kuchh toh boliye na... hume daant lo... daant lo aap..."
say something... just scold me...

"just shut up," cold silver ice in his voice.

"shut up? devi maiya ki jai ho
," she's relieved, delighted to be insulted, at least he spoke. he hasn't spoken in three hours... she makes the mistake of reminding him of what he did, prattles away, if he could do this to a guy because he pushed her, what would he do if the guy dared hit her...

"get out." the words shot out like a bullet.

he didn't want to be reminded of his loss of control. why was he behaving like this, what was the matter with him? arnav singh raizada has never felt this sensation before. it feels alien, scary, threatening to him.

"kyun ab humne kya kiya?"
what did i do now? she has been here before, she is flummoxed but not unduly shocked... till his second, through gritted teeth, expanded, emphatic:

"get... out."

she is hurt, terribly, again. he slaps money into her hand, brusquely helps her take off her seat belt. classic that struggle of hers with the belt, all her agony in that jerky unfocussed movement, even shyam letting her down never hurt her perhaps as much as this man's blow hot blow cold. she leaves.

when he enters home, restless, seething, confused, grazing anger within, the screenplay uses a cute, wacky foil to contrast with his state of mind and throw it into relief. op. all gleaming smiley face asking for chhotey saab's attention, getting entangled with him like a playful kitten (perfect man for khushi to play ankh micholi with when she gets bored being rich at the raizada home). he tells op to get off his back and enters his den. a question searing.

"kal tak main usse pareshan tha toh phir aaj kya ho gaya hai mujhe?" till yesterday i was irritated with her, then what happened to me today?

even when you were "pareshaan" you averted your gaze to hand her her dupatta, turned away to give her privacy. even when you were angry, you carried her to a room and left her in a safe place, not in the jungle. when you realised your folly, you rushed to find her, mortified at the state you discovered her in, when her cheek rested on your palm you only felt the flow of tenderness within, not a single instinct to draw away, when you gathered her up you were caring toward a girl who had driven you batty through a harrowing journey... and then when a  man touched her, you lost it. yet you haven't a  clue what's happening to you.

as you didn't all those times you couldn't stop thinking of her... after bersarai and the sindoor incident, the day you ran like a maniac to find her in a crumbling edifice, the sunday afternoon you thought she wasn't coming back and ached, the endless times you repeated to yourself she's going away to lucknow for hamesha and couldn't think of anything else. you put up with her mad plans, get angry but can't get rid of her from your mind, you can't bear to see a tear in her eyes, i could go on.

yet you don't know what's happening to you. i guess the drive from faraq nahin padta to faraq padta is an arduous one, sometimes in the middle of it is a honeymoon suite.

96/97/98



and along this difficult route, another milestone has been covered, shashi gupta is the only one who knows the terrible danger approaching his chhutki, and ever since that single shot on a car window that speaks of knowledge on one hand and the eternal denial of truth on the other, shyam knows what he has to do if he is to get khushi. and that has led him to turn into a killer, even worse. khushi's father is in hospital fighting for his life. a killer lurks undetected among the din and cry of emotion, coiled, convulsing, uncouth, just by the side if the ditch.




......................
fanfiction








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