Thursday, 12 January 2017

episode 24 (contd) rain talk... (vm)

i've let the caps remain unedited, fuzzy, as i'd made them off low res uploads, even in this state, they talk and say all they have to.

ab rona mat shuru kar dena.

now don't start crying.

so he had noticed the tears welling up in her eyes just a short while ago. when he insulted her, tried to force her to wear that skimpy thing in blue. and later when he just couldn't look away as she stood there all woman in red.

he had noticed her aansoo, and it had started hurting him somewhere. the first few times of the "har baar " her tears affected him. it was beautiful. what we saw in early july of 2011 had reference and context in a statement made months later on 21 september 2012. this is story telling, writing. and there was so much of it in ipk. even when it was clear that the story was being mauled, i always felt, the writers, led by ved raj and gautam hegde, tried their best to keep something of ipk alive (though i have railed against them as things got more and more frustrating and doubted their storytelling, the very thing i laud here and always loved).

and of course, the actors fought valiantly. especially barun. how hard he tried to hold on to asr while his own production house and the channel were busy letting him go to faceless "good" man hell.

as desperately perhaps as he was holding her shoulder in the scene that came just before he said that about crying.

every part of this episode felt extra carefully and lovingly crafted. the words, the framing, the lighting, the edit, the music, the perfectly timed sound effects of thunder lightning rain screeching tyres, and of course the acting. nothing faltered, everything fell into place and said much more than what was apparent. we were almost being invited to look deeper. go beyond the veil, that sheet of rain, find the hints and clues scattered just beneath the layer.

as the water streamed in torrents it was as though he was drowning. in her. his eyes said he'd forgotten everything in the turmoil of that moment, when he thought she was going to be hit by that car, and he just lunged forward, caught her, and felt her body close against him. something seemed to have taken the wind out of him, and it was more than the panic of the moment. he doesn't let go, even when it is fine to do so.

she notices first. then he. how his fingers grip her slight shoulder. then as though realising something he doesn't even want to look at, he pushes her away. one swift move. and as she looks on shocked, he turns and begins to walk away. the ocean ebbs... but not for long. again he turns. looks at her, now his gaze is holding on. he doesn't want to. but there it is.
the only thing to break the spell is anger. so it is summoned. and then the ocean surges back toward its shore, jacket in hand.

"kyon mujhe pehli baar aisa laga ki main... ki main shayad kuch galat kar raha hoon
main sahi hoon
main jo kar raha hoon, sahi hai
phir kyon
kyon mujhe ussi ka khayaal baar baar aa raha hai
sirf ussi ka chehra
mujhe bura nahi lag sakta
uss ladki ke liye toh kabhi bhi nahin
arnav singh raizada ko kissi ladki se koi faraq nahin padta!"

why do i feel for the first time that perhaps i am wrong? i am right. what i'm doing is right. then why? why are her thoughts coming to me again and again? only her face. i can't feel bad. no... and for that girl, never. no girl makes any difference to arnav singh raizada! 

those words throw a poignant light on the character of arnav singh raizada. wrapped among those simple direct sentences is a story of a man's whole life somewhere. there was a terrible "galat" in that life, and  that set him on the path to never be wrong, to do and be right. "sahi." in his eyes even the whiff of galat is intolerable. zero tolerance. why?
and that need to be right. so absolute. why? and why too that last sentence: no girl makes any difference to asr. why the accent on "kissi bhi"? what had happened that involved a girl and lots of galat? that was so central to his inner sense of himself? he could handle a lighter, less involved relationship like the one with lavanya, where obviously his and possibly her deepest part weren't involved, but he was determined "kissi ladki se koi farq nahin padta". powerful crux to a character. delving into it could lead to such riveting places. certainly there was lots more to the tale when it all started. i so wish we'd heard it all.

his mind plays back every instant in their lives when he was harsh, wrong in his action toward her: the snapping of the dori, the tearing of the dupatta, the dropping off from the upper floor, the forcing her to model. he can't bear it. he stops, and steps out into the rain, seeking answers, perhaps absolution.

we see the deep conscience of a man and his ability to examine himself. had he been the brusque, win at all cost guy, who uses his power, money, gender to get his way, would he have saved her, or walked back with a jacket, or screeched to a halt in the middle of the road to have that conversation with his self? his first one before us.

wonderfully though in the sentences, his admission that she has begun to enter his mind, transgress his sacred isolation. he is thinking of her, baar baar.

barun's body language was outstanding in this sequence. as though he is trying to fend off a terrible thing, stiffening his being up against the onslaught, putting his feet firmly on the ground so that he can't be knocked off them. first the storm in his eyes, then the growing resolve. no. he will not give in. when is the last time i saw such superb interpretation and direction.

"jiji toh sabse zyada. aur upar se aaj jiji ka... woh darasal aaj hamari jiji ka janamdin hai...
pata nahin hum aap ko yeh sab kyon bata rahein hain.. woh asal mein hamse chupi sahi nahin jaati... issliye hum kuch zyadahi bol dete hain."

most of all jiji. and on top of that today is her... actually today's my jiji's birthday... don't know why i'm telling you all this... actually i can't take silence... that's why i speak a bit too much.

khushi can't handle silence... tells us of an inner turmoil maybe? and on the other hand, he can't take noise... likes khamoshi. 

khushi kumari gupta was lovely today, even more beautiful than in that red saree of hers i thought. sanaya's delicate features gleamed highlighted by the light reflected off the water clinging to them. she was slim and enchantingly vulnerable looking at this time, and the camera seemed to adore her innocent yet strong and always a bit nutty khushi.

she was like chandni raat and he like dhoop. and she was about to get really mad at him for all the terrible things he'd put her through.

"maaf kijiye...par woh issi khitab ke layak hain... kyonki woh.."

forgive me, but he is fit for that title, because...

and smoothly, almost tenderly, akash cuts in:

"sakht hai, (a little pause and a smile)
unka swabhav aisa ho gaya... bahut hi kam umr mein unpar bahut zimmadari aa gayi thi..."

he's tough... he's become like that. at a very tender age a lot of responsibilities came upon him...

how much love for that rude man in his cousin's voice. and the story begins to open. something happened to him at a very young age. something that made him so hard. when i connect it to the man in question's own breakdown in the rain, the rain seems to enter my heart, healing and hurting at once. screenplay, oh the sheer brilliance of it here.

"hum yeh sab nahin jaante...
par aapke swabhav aur unke swabhav mein kitna antar hai... aap kitne sajjan purush hai, aur woh, rakshas hai, rakshas!"

i don't know all that, but there's such a difference between your behaviour and his... you seem like such a good man, and he, he is a monster, monster!
at rakshas, the biggest testimony to asr's character, the driver turned with almost a glare at the one calling his boss all sorts of things. akash gestured: no, calm down. the man who barks and yells at all, seems to command a strong sense of loyalty from those he never bothers to be politically correct around. interesting. and again clever screenplay to say much without wasting any time. all these days we've seen how awful asr is, now it's time to wonder, is he?

while one man seemed to leave her in the downpour and walk away at a late hour, two men stepped up and offered safety, shelter. makan, shelter, a basic need came to mind. and what is the role of these two men? akash held firm in his resolve and refused to let her be, though khushi in her "i can manage" way urged him to go. he acted as a true friend, he was also the one to point out to her that she was special for she had dared to defy one whom everyone feared. shyam would offer her shelter too in the form of a husband one day, but that would be as much of a lie as his answer to her question as to why he stares at her like that. 

and the man who walked away? no, he didn't give her an umbrella, but he sheltered her in his arms, shielded her with his life. that car could have hit him.

a jacket and a dupatta. kapda, another fundamental requirement, clothing. he offered to cover her against the rain with something from his body. the amount of symbolism that holds especially in the context of indian weddings where a vastra from the man covers the head of the bride as a sign of "i take care of you food and shelter," is staggering. and the intensity in barun almost gave a sense of sanctity to that offer. off course, he then flung it at her, angry at his own feelings.

and she as much on cue it seemed, rejected the offer. angry at this heartless man, unwilling to take any help from him. whereas akash's offer of a gift for her sister got accepted. and so a lovely yarn was spun around how a man's gift of love, of hopes of union, of being her protector, her lover, reached the right girl. it was done so smoothly, left you breathless and happy.

the rain got mixed with a visual connection between another set of lovers who were not at all aware of their emotions. yet. but joined they were by a sneeze, thanks to a naughty storyteller.

haan, said she. choo, completed he.

and the deal was sealed. his eyes looked troubled and lost still. and then in walked nani and reminded him of a diya. torment again. only to be saved by mention of his sister's troubled state of mind.  kya? kya hua di ke mood ko? and after mami had given her account in the way only she can, he wanted to know if di had given that woman a piece of her mind. in the midst of this exchange, the cutest reaction from anjali to her lecture giving bro: go dry your own hair, a little towel fling (so you think you can get away with jacket fling). how cute and natural was daljeet here.

then the cutest smile from her brother, a little glimpse almost of that boy of "kam umr" on whom had come all that "zimmedari". there was a part of arnav singh raizada kkg would never have believe existed. today i am dazed by it, a few days down the road she will be too, by that same tenderness in the man for his sis. again, beautiful design, nothing is wasted, superfluous, gratuitous. every opportunity is taken to enrich the narrative. 

"tumhe nahin lag raha tum uss chhotey se employee ko kuch zyada dhyan de rahe ho?" 

don't you think you're giving an insignificant employee a little too much attention?

"enough, lavanya... number!"

"khushi kumari gupta... itni asani se chaain ki saans nahin lene doonga tumhe."

khushi kumari gupta, not letting you get off the hook so easily.

chain ki saans. she has robbed him of his peace of mind, how can he let her rest. our journey to faraq padta hai and humari dhadkane has begun in earnest.

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