Wednesday, 31 August 2016

episode 331 a touch of your colour




he saw her dori was coming undone...

he played with her, held her in his arms, pulled her in.

"chhoriye, hume chhoriye," she demurred, perhaps thanks to force of habit. they were in a public place virtually and the man in a brown suit looking rather princely was asking her to do things she was so wanting to do willing to do perhaps even waiting to do a la eliza dolittle's father,  yet, how to? ladki you are, sharam you must have... besharmi is the exclusive right of the laad governor.




"really?" he murmurred provocatively. if anyone knew kkg's heart and mind it was possibly this man... only him.

a rabba vey took the moment on a dizzy trip, an intimate possessive moment, bodies intimately nestling against each other.

his hand moved to her hip, just where her lehenga's waistband sat and pushed slightly, turning her around.




his hand reached a place she had no notion it had reached and brushed against her mehendi... and took his share. there is no separation perhaps in this love, no yours and mine... he would not put mehendi he'd said and then decided otherwise... once he'd casually picked her dupatta and rubbed haldi off his face, leaving her marked perhaps, today he wants her to mark him it seemed... something so sensuous and giving in that gesture at once...

maybe it was not there in the idea, but more in the acting... might have been just sensuous otherwise, not such a sexy surrender.

she was losing it in the meanwhile. one of those rare occasions when we'll see khushi come undone at the nearness of this man, his compelling sexuality managing to penetrate her perennial happy sweet girl demeanour... making her feel like a woman, go a little crazy, crave, shiver all over, forget her to do list for a moment, just give in to him.

such a man woman moment and explored with such grace. again i have to wonder at the chemistry that is so touched by light joy gripping excitement absolutely enchanting and absorbing, arousing yet without a single streak of darkness or something sort of sleazy embarrassing it is... never seen this kind of sexually explosive chemistry without a trace of the unwholesome.

it's a rare thing... please smart producer, grab it and use it in your next film, telefilm, whatever.




with absolute concentration, the man who had snapped her dori once, in a secluded room when they were utter strangers, tied her dori slowly, making sure it was secure... shielding her with his body.




something had pulled at him when that dori had come apart and pearls had scattered and a girl had flung her hair over her back to hide her body, looked back at him with tears in her eyes... maybe something in him yearned to set that right every day, in whatever way possible... he wasn't  a brute, an egregious monster, the moment had made him so, for all that had lain torn in him she had touched and yanked hard at... without knowing... without ever meaning to.

the mehendi soothes him perhaps, tells him with its saffron touch, a hurt ends, colour returns... reminded me of the day he had given her a bindi and all the dhakdhak... always a little game a little winning in his moves... 




when she would have walked away he held up his hand, his head down just a little, like a little boy showing what he has done... a plea in his eyes maybe? why did i think of the day he held the payal up and showed her by the poolside... something so very touching in his expressions, then and now... it seemed to say, all of me... take all of me...

a little mark of mehendi sat on his left palm. her mehendi.

she had said no to his embrace earlier, her mehendi might get spoilt... but now she had to run to him and hug him close, happiness in her eyes, her smile, her heart.




were there tears in his eyes...

a chance at happiness for a man who had lost all sense of it when he was  a mere boy.

bit by bit a heart healed and hoped again, tried to believe... but would life leave asr unbroken this time?

unaware though wary of the deceit around him, he danced... giving in to her and nk's persuasion... of course he might have seen danger lurking in his home right before all, but right then an old ipk devise, lights out, came calling and he never saw shyam... neither did dadi see garima... a foolish hide and seek and one whose consequences would be horrific continued.




she is handicapped, she is pregnant... her own husband is going to smite her... a sadness mills around me... what was this, was this even necessary?
a delightful interlude with bua ji and nk had started the episode.

"bahut sarmate ho tum nand kissore..." bua ji had yelled at the quaking nk, you are too shy. he of course couldn't control those visions of bua and he about to tie the knot, she in her fancy white wedding gown...

"abhi se gala sookhne laga beha ke naam pe!" your throat has started getting dry already at the thought of marriage, she teased in her loud bua way... the thought of what is to come in 332 freezes my brain, nk's horror film is about to start.








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